Chicago Med fic: In a Heartbeat (1/4)
Title: In a Heartbeat
Disclaimer: I got nothing.
A/N: Set in a post-S6 world but written before I saw S7. So it’s technically AU, but it plays heavily on the themes of Will trying to recover his decimated career. No beta. Fills my heart attack square for hc_bingo.
Summary: Will’s so worried about getting his head in order that he completely overlooks the heart of the matter.
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
-o-
When Will first came to Chicago, he’d intended to quit the Med job on his first day. He’d been scared to stick around. The idea of putting down roots had seemed untenable.
Now, nearly a decade later, those roots were pretty hard to pull out. Now, ironically, he was terrified to leave.
That was how he’d ended up at Med, even after Ms. Goodwin had unceremoniously fired him for a crime that he had only partially committed. When she learned the truth, she had relented. If Will had had an ounce of self respect left, he probably would have declined her offer and stuck it out with his plan to start fresh elsewhere. Except that hadn’t been the plan. The plan had been to stay in Chicago, find his happily ever after and be a Canaryville boy until the day he died.
That was the dream, and Will wasn’t sure what the reality was at this point. Natalie had left and taken Owen with her, and Will had ruined every other relationship he’d started in Chicago. His professional trajectory was somewhere between stagnant and disaster, and although Ms. Goodwin had taken him off probation after three months, he still felt tenuous after six months back on the job.
Really, the only thing he had going for him was that he was actually still employed at Med.
The job he’d tried to quit was now the one he was clinging to in desperation.
It was pathetic, and Will knew it. But it was all he could do.
So, six months after his fall from grace, he’d been working to rebuild. His personal life, his career, his professional respect, his relationship with his brother -- all of it.
He put his heart into it, holding nothing back.
Funny how he was foolish enough to believe that his heart would be enough.
-o-
Will was struggling to make amends, but he was really about the only one. After the flurry of disasters six months ago, life had largely returned to normal in the ED. Archer’s tenure had been short and contentious. He spent a good three weeks trying to rip the ED apart, and while the rest of the staff had chafed, Will had just kept his head down and trusted well enough. Ethan finally intervened, coming back to partial duty early, and Archer had been fired not long after.
Will helped out as best he could until Ethan was back on his feet, and the ED handled the rest of the changes better. April left to pursue her schooling, and Natalie had relocated to Seattle to start over with her family. April and Ethan were still doing the long distance thing, having reconnected over Ethan’s near-death experience, and Will kept in touch with Natalie just to make sure that things were going well.
They were, as best he could tell. She was happy; she was settling in. Like everyone else, she was moving on.
Everyone except Will, that was.
The problem was that, even off probation, Will knew he didn’t deserve to be there. He’d gone over it in his head countless times, and there was no reason for Goodwin to offer him his job back. She’d been justified in firing him. Maybe it had been sentiment that pushed her to keep him on, and he had been tempted to say no. If not for Jay, Will probably would have run instead.
It would have been easier, in some ways, to avoid the humiliation of coming to work each day, knowing he hadn’t earned his spot. It would have caused him a lot less anxiety, that much was sure.
But he owed it to Jay to stay in Chicago. With all Jay had lost in recent years -- and with his upcoming wedding to Hailey -- Will didn’t want to bail on his brother like he always did. If Will was going to grow up, then he was really going to grow up.
Of course, that sounded good in theory.
In practical application, it was a lot of work.
A lot of work.
He was basically starting his career over from zero, and there was almost no promise of advancement. He had to rebuild his reputation from scratch, and it required constant work. Will went out of his way to be the best now. And not just for flashy surgeries and big procedures. He did it in the little things. He was always available for a consult. He was always the first to volunteer for extra shifts, and he spent twice as long making sure that his charts were absolutely impeccable.
He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in six months, and he didn’t see it getting better -- well, ever. Goodwin was always watching him, even when she said she wasn’t, and he couldn’t escape the reality that he was always one mistake away from termination.
To compensate, he threw himself into his work even more. He started skipping meals when he took on extra teaching duties. He kept a stash of power bars, bananas and energy drinks in his locker to keep him going. The caffeine probably did nothing for the anxiety, and he often felt like he needed to take a few minutes in the bathroom, just to breathe, to calm down, to get his heart beating normally again.
He had to listen to the anxiety for once. He had to lean into it. He’d spent too many years ignoring his better judgement, and that was what got him into this mess. The anxiety was a sign of self awareness, and every time his heart beat out of his chest, he had to think, he was finally doing something right.
-o-
Yet, the anxiety was still anxiety. When he was working with a patient, he generally felt okay, but he felt rundown each night, too winded to even bother pretending like life was normal. Then, as his diet suffered, his indigestion picked up. The burning was persistent, not responding to the antacids he started popping at the risk of kidney stones, and he woke up feeling worse than when he went to bed.
The worst, however, was interacting with his colleagues. In the ED, everyone was unfailingly polite. Ethan seemed to have taken him into confidence after his return to work, and Will found it stressingly vexing. His heart started pounding every time he needed to have a professional conversation, and when he happened to cross paths with Ms. Goodwin, he almost couldn’t breathe altogether.
He had started to actively avoid her, for all the good that did. By keeping his head down and making sure he dotted every i and crossed every t, he was able to avoid being summoned to her office most of the time. But she had a habit of being involved in her hospital, and sometimes Will just couldn’t get away.
Today was one of those days.
The worst part was he didn’t see her coming. He was finishing up with a patient, having just sanitized his hands. Swinging out of the exam room, he was on his way to promptly update the chart when she was standing right in front of him.
His heart squeezed so hard in his chest that he literally felt sick. The blood drained from his head and he thought he might pass out.
Of all things, she smiled at him. “Dr. Halstead, it’s good to see you.”
It was funny that she sounded like she meant it.
Will took a split second to breathe again, and his heart fumbled its way back into rhythm. “Yes,” he said, and his voice sounded as pitchy as it did when he was in puberty. He somehow managed to smile. “It’s good to see you, too.”
She gave him a funny look, which he naturally deserved. He wished he could get out of there, but running out on his boss was even worse than actually talking to her. “Are you doing okay?” she asked with a furrowed brow.
“What? I’m fine,” he said quickly.
His assurance only seemed to temper her response even more. “You look a little under the weather.”
His heart was pounding again. His chest hurt and he felt a low roil in his gut. He thought of countless lies and abandoned them each. “Nothing serious,” he said. “My stomach’s been a little off, is all.”
“Oh?” she asked, her concern peaking.
He quickly shook his head. “Just indigestion -- really. It’s been hard to sneak in time for a full meal these days.”
His continued efforts to deflate her line of questioning seemed to be backfiring. “You really should make the effort, Dr. Halstead. I have seen the hours you’re pulling lately. That’s not healthy.”
“Oh, well, I’m just trying to be part of the team,” Will said.
She nodded along as though she understood. “Being part of the team doesn’t mean you have to take one for the team,” she said. She reached out, gently patting his arm. “So, take care of yourself. We need you at your best.”
He withdrew with a small, rapid bob of his head. “I will,” he promised. “You can count on me.”
Her look turned a little quizzical as she started on her way again. “I don’t doubt it.”
He watched her go, holding his breath until she was out of sight. He slumped forward, taking a small gasp for air. He rubbed his chest, feeling even worse than before. He’d said too much; he’d revealed too much. Now she was going to have her eye on him even more. Now she was going to question if he could even do his damn job.
He closed his eyes, sighing.
Now he was going to have to work harder than ever. He couldn’t afford another crisis right now, not when her opinion of him was already so low and not when his reputation around the ED was already so bad. He had to be on the straight and narrow. He had to keep his head down and stop attracting attention.
Opening his eyes, he felt weary and tired as he got to work that morning, still rubbing his chest.
-o-
Will worked nonstop through the morning, skipping all his breaks and avoiding all distracting conversation. He used to enjoy downtime in the ED, but he found it unbearable now. People were still polite to him, but that almost made it worse. Facing their pity, knowing that he didn’t deserve to be here like they did, made his need to perform even more pronounced.
For all the good it seemed to be doing him.
Six months in, and he felt like he was just further behind. No matter what he did, he couldn’t catch up.
By the time he stopped to eat, it was already 1:30 in the afternoon. He thought about just skipping it altogether -- he still had an energy bar or two in his locker -- but Ms. Goodwin’s words were heavy invectives. Instead, he made a point to go down to the cafeteria, ordering a salad and an apple with a bottle of water, before sitting himself down at a small table alone at the back.
He wasn’t remotely hungry, even though his stomach gurgled, and he stuffed in as much as he could before he started to feel sick. Then, right when Crockett smiled at him across the cafeteria with the intention to join him, Will waved him off and got up under the pretense that he was on an important call.
In truth, he made a beeline to the bathroom where he promptly threw up in the toilet.
Food just didn’t taste right.
He didn’t feel right, either.
Flushing the toilet, he left the stall and splashed cold water on his face. It didn’t do anything to make him look or feel better.
No matter.
Will would just keep faking it until it made it.
Or until he fell apart.
Whichever came first.
-o-
Will worked late, but he made another effort to eat a real meal for dinner. He picked up his favorite from a place he used to frequent -- a chicken sandwich and a side salad. However, by the time he got it home, he found his appetite for it had vanished. He took several bites, but the indigestion had surged into his chest again, making him unable to eat more than a few bites.
He put the rest in the fridge, and he tried to find some solace in the fact that he tried.
He was still trying.
Even if it was never enough.
-o-
Exhausted though he was, Will couldn’t sleep any better than he could eat. Every time he laid down, heartburn woke him right back up again. After tossing and turning miserably for awhile, Will went out to the living room and leaned back in his chair. Turning on the TV, he massaged his shoulder and worked his jaw. He watched reruns and infomercials until he couldn’t think anymore and morning mercifully arrived.
That way he could wake up and do it all over again.
-o-
Today, however, Will had to make a stop before work.
The gym.
He’d always made time for the gym in the past. As a doctor, he knew how important exercise was, and he’d seen too many people cycle through the ED with the same regret of not sticking to an exercise regimen. He wasn’t some die-hard about it, but he enjoyed running and basic cross training.
At least, he used to.
Now, when he went to the gym, he was too tired to maintain his old stamina. It seemed to be getting worse. Over the last week, every time he tried to exercise, he was instantly drenched in sweat. Once or twice, he’d stopped early to throw up instead. He was at the point where he really should have just stayed home for extra sleep except for two small problems.
One, he wasn’t able to sleep.
Two, he wasn’t going to the gym by himself today.
No, today, he had his weekly meeting with Jay. Sometimes they played racquetball, but today Jay had requested basketball.
Did Will have time for this? Not really. Did Will have the energy for it? Not at all.
But he couldn’t be naive about things, not now. One of the main reasons he’d agreed to come back to Med was because he couldn’t imagine leaving his brother. Running away and rebuilding in a far flung location -- that was what Will did when things got tough. But he knew how much that had hurt Jay in the past, and he wasn’t about to do it again. His relationship with Jay was the only thing he had going right at the moment. He wasn’t about to jeopardize that for anything.
Besides, Ms. Goodwin had been clear. He needed to take care of himself. Getting exercise, staying active and maintaining robust personal relationships were all critical facets of self care. Dr. Charles would surely be proud of him for the effort.
Even if the execution was a little lacking.
He was sore and sluggish. He wasn’t sure what part of him was suffering more: his brotherly banter or his basketball game. To his credit, he did his best with both. It was just that, as with many things in Will’s life these days, his best was nowhere near enough.
They did a few minutes of warmups, during which Will missed nearly every shot he threw up. Dribbling down the court was a chore, and he must have aggravated a muscle in his shoulder. The joint had been achy on and off, but today it was nearly unbearable.
And his stomach still wasn’t settled. He hadn’t eaten since last night, but the burning and pressure had continued to persist. In fact, if anything, it was worse now. And nothing helped.
Things only got worse when the game actually started. Jay went at him hard, and Will kept up for about two plays before he had to take a breather and get a drink. He wasn’t thirsty, but it was the only excuse he could come up with. Drinking the water only made this worse. The pressure had built up in his stomach and spread through his chest and neck.
After several more lackluster plays, Jay mocked him. In frustration, Will managed to stay in the game for two more plays, finally landing his first basket. They were playing to 21, and Will was already down by 8. Humiliation was something he was used to, at least.
“Seriously, step up, bro,” Jay said, barely breaking a sweat. “You’re supposed to make these interesting.”
“Shut up,” Will snapped, unable to add much levity to his voice. “Give me the ball.”
Jay raised his eyebrows. “Oh, so that’s how it is today?”
The aching was intense enough that he was feeling lightheaded. He would have to take some Tylenol when he got into work. Something to take the edge off and just get through this damn day.
“Yeah,” Will said, gritting out the words as he tried to keep his breathing in and out, in and out. “That’s how it is today.”
Jay smirked. At least he hadn’t realized just how bad Will felt yet. “Check it, then,” he said, tossing the ball to Will with some force.
Too much force.
Will did his best not to grimace, but it didn’t really work. He checked the ball, receiving it back. He took a breath and held it, trying to counterbalance the pressure already built up in his chest. He made his move, charging forward, but his movements were sloppy and haphazard. He made it several dribbles toward the basket, charging almost blindly, when Jay easily tipped the ball and it went flying. He reached to stop it, but his fingers could get control and it skidded out of control and hit the wall.
“Off you!” Jay jeered, grabbing it.
Will was breathless when he got to the line. He could feel the heat in his face, sweat collecting in his hair. He wanted to stop, to think, to catch his breath, but Jay was all in. Will had to focus.
Seeing the ball in Jay’s hands, Will read his brother’s movements perfectly. He was about to feign to the left and do a straight line layup to the basket. It was a signature move, and one that Jay thought was rather clever. And it might have been -- had Will not been playing Jay one-on-one since grade school.
Will anticipated the move, but when he went to make the block, he found himself too slow. Sloppy and uncoordinated, he didn’t pluck the ball from Jay’s hands. He all but collided with the ball, sending it flying out of bounds and bouncing into the wall.
Worse, the effort seemed to leave him spent. He realized belatedly that his heart was about to beat out of his chest. He bent over, taking a moment to try to steady himself.
“Out off you,” Jay said, retrieving the ball with a small smirk. He was gloating, the bastard. “Again.”
“Whatever,” Will said, brushing his hair back off his forehead. It was sweatier than he remembered, and he took his time straightening back up.
“That’s your comeback?” Jay asked. “Did you catch something from the hospital or something?”
“What?” Will asked. He did his best not to visibly wheeze, even if catching his breath was harder than he wanted to admit right now. That past play had been intended as an elegant steal. Instead, Will had all but flailed into Jay and knocked the ball out of bounds. It was too silly to admit, and honestly, denial was his favorite coping mechanism now that running away from his problems was off the table. He summoned a look of incredulity. “No.”
Jay was watching him with a critical gaze, moving the ball outside the line to bring it in off Will’s out of bounds play. “You look off.”
The response was trained. It was practically a reflex by now. “Just tired.”
“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” Jay said with a scowl.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been tired for weeks,” Will replied with a matter of fact tone. He nodded at the ball in his brother’s hands. “Now, check the damn ball.”
The invective was straightforward enough. Jay pushed the ball, bouncing it toward Will on the other side of the baseline. Will bounced it back, and Jay let the play come alive. He faked hard to the right -- and then to the left. Will had played basketball with his brother all his life. He knew that this was his brother’s favorite fake. It would end with a hard push to the right, and Will moved to block, but he was a heartbeat too slow.
Literally.
He could feel his heartbeat now with even more acuity, a searing pain across his chest. He wheezed in earnest now, having no ability to hide it anymore. He was struggling to keep up, but by the time his sluggish feet got themselves in order, Jay had already scored an easy jump shot from inside the arc.
Rebounding his own ball, Jay looked back at him. “Seriously, man, that’s like the fifth shot in a row I’ve taken you for. You sure you’re okay?”
Panting hard, Will felt the sweat building up in his hairline and soak the back of his shirt. He approached his brother and took the ball with a huff. “Just shut up,” he muttered, taking the ball out of bounds. “Let’s go again.”
It was Will’s turn to check it, and he had plans for one of his more elaborate plays. It required speed and agility, and Will made it only two steps before it just wasn’t enough. His dribbling was sloppy, and his feet were just too slow. Easily, Jay stripped him of the ball, passing him without a second’s hesitation. Will half collapsed, resting his hands on his knees, while his brother scored again.
That was bothersome, of course. But the ache in his chest was spreading, and Will felt a new stiffness in his shoulder. He tried to roll it out, straightening back up as he felt rivulets of sweat down his face.
“Maybe you did catch something,” Jay said, throwing the ball to Will again. “I mean, COVID is still going around.”
“I’m vaccinated,” Will reminded him, taking the ball and trying not to show how winded he was. “And I’m also fine.”
Embarrassment was running deep now, and Will knew it was time to prove himself once and for all. His brother had enough to worry about -- being a cop was a lot more dangerous than being a doctor -- and Will couldn’t stand the thought of being another burden on his brother.
He was here for Jay.
He would push himself for Jay.
That was the way it was now. Will had spent most of his life living for his own selfish ends. Now, it was different. Now, he was focused on being the best he could be for other people. The best doctor for the hospital. The best brother for his family. That meant working the longest shifts. That meant playing the best games of basketball he could.
He couldn’t afford to fail again.
His mind set on the task now, Will took the ball. This time, he managed to control his dribble, almost checking Jay out of his way while he drove to the hoop. It wasn’t his most graceful attempt, but when he lobbed up his layup, this time, it actually sank through the net.
It should have been relief, but heat radiated through his chest instead, lighting like fire up his neck and down his arms. Even so, he grimaced until he smiled back to his brother. “See?” he said, as though he had just proved some kind of point. “I can still take you.”
It was all bravado, but it was really all Will had right now.
Jay rebounded the ball as it bounced away, and he half laughed as he turned back toward Will. “It’s like 2 to 12,” he said, dribbling the ball in a cursory fashion. “I’m still kicking your ass.”
It took all of Will’s effort to stay upright by this point. His vision was spotty but he did his best to ignore it along with all the other things he was feeling at the moment. Heartburn, shortness of breath, nerve pain, lightheadedness, nausea--
“Whatever,” Will said, blinking blindly and forcing himself to move. “You’re scared now.”
Jay was a good cop -- observant and smart -- but he was still Will’s brother. He knew all the right buttons to push, even when pushing said buttons threatened to make him keel over. “Oh, you think so?” Jay taunted. He lined up at the baseline, throwing the ball at Will to check it.
Will barely managed to get the ball back, and Jay was gone in an instant. He easily sidestepped Will, making a fast play around him, and driving straight to the basket. Will heard the sound, but he couldn’t turn to see it. In fact, he couldn’t see anything at all.
“And you were saying?” Jay said, the ire raising with familiar banter now. “Who’s scared?”
But Will couldn’t answer.
Hell, Will hadn’t even moved. His feet were still planted on the floor by the sideline, and now the spots in his vision were starting to take over. The pain in his chest had expanded, and he realized that the tightness was more pervasive than he’d allowed himself to realize. It was like a vice squeezing him and squeezing him and--
He couldn’t inhale now, it was so tight. His vision was all but black now, as his hearing tunneled like he was underwater. Jay was still gloating, but Will couldn’t make out the words over the incessant pounding of his heart between his ears.
His panic spiked. Fear gripped him. He was losing control now, he was losing everything.
“Will?” Jay asked from somewhere. “Are you okay?”
Will wanted to answer yes.
But the universe wasn’t keen on giving Will what he wanted these days.
He probably deserved that.
But Jay didn’t.
“Will!”
He was falling before he could stop himself, and the world rushed by him as everything went black. He was caught in the abyss for a moment -- suspended and held taut -- and he could feel his heart stutter to a stop as his lungs seized up. For a horrible, tremulous moment, that felt like that was it, that was everything, that was the end--
But then, his heart staggered back. His lungs expanded. With a gasp, Will opened his eyes.
“Will,” Jay said, leaning over him. “Stay still.”
The order didn’t make much sense. Will was flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the gym. Jay looked terrified.
“I -- what?” Will asked, blinking furiously as he tried to get his bearings. His head was still spinning, and when he tried to take a deep breath, it only made things worse.
“Just -- stay still,” Jay said, he was pressing down on Will’s shoulder to keep him in place. “Do you know where you are? Do you know what happened?”
Will’s vision was funny around the edges, but he recognized his brother well enough. “The gym,” he said, looking around at the lights. “We’re playing basketball. I -- got lightheaded.”
“And passed out,” Jay said, filling in that blank with a dour look. “I don’t think you went down hard, and you were only out for a second, but we need to get you to the hospital--”
Will drew his attention back to Jay in surprise. “I’m fine.”
It was a reflex to say, quick and automatic. The fact that he was strained for air, pained and flat on his back didn’t help prove his point.
Jay knew it, too. “You’re not fine,” he said, he sat back on his knees, his expression tight.
“Of course I’m fine,” Will insisted out of principle.
Jay looked like he was ready to blow a gasket. “Will, I just watched you pass out.”
“Exhaustion,” Will said, still struggling to take his next breath. “All those long shifts--”
“And you’re winded,” Jay said. “Even now, you can’t catch your breath.”
“We are playing basketball--”
All his explanations only served to make Jay more dubious. “Will, you don’t look right. I’ve noticed it all day, and your little swan dive proves it. I’m not messing around with this. We need to call the ambulance.”
Even as Jay insisted, Will had leveraged himself back into a seated position. Jay lingered close, hand at his back with his gaze intent. Under this scrutiny, Will knew that his wincing would not go unnoticed. Upright as he was, he found himself unconsciously guarding his chest.
Jay shook his head. “Your chest hurts, doesn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me, asshole?”
By now, Jay was digging in his pocket for his phone. Will eschew the physical discomfort. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not, Will,” Jay said with clipped syllables. He was logging into his phone now. “I’m calling 911.”
Will reached out, using his right hand on his brother’s forearm. “Jay, seriously, stop. I’m just -- exhausted. Overworked. Stressed out--“
Jay hesitated, but the look he used was clearly strained. “Will--“
With his brother’s attention, Will capitalized. “All the hallmarks of a panic attack,” he reasoned even while his chest still labored for oxygen. “You have to let me breathe here. Let my pulse settle.”
To call Jay’s look dubious now would be an understatement. “You’re telling me you had a panic attack.”
He winced again, still struggling for air more than he cared to show. The tightness intensified, and Will felt his heart thud painfully in his chest cavity. “Maybe still having one,” he admitted.
Jay’s expression nearly broke. “Will--”
Will ignored him, starting to get to his feet regardless of, well, anything else. “Just help me -- help me get up.”
Jay made a small noise that showed his clear disagreement with this course of action, but Will was already clambering to his feet, leaning into his brother’s support as he pushed his way through a wave of dizziness to get upright. The pressure in his chest blossomed anew, and he fought back the urge to vomit. He was sweating again -- he could feel it, at the small of his back and across his front -- and he focused on small, hard breaths out through his mouth. “I just need to catch my breath,” he muttered.
Jay stood close, keeping himself a steadying force with one hand still on Will’s arm. “You need to go to the hospital.”
Will shook his head. “No, I’m fine--”
“No, you’re not,” Jay said, hissing harshly now. “You don’t look right. You don’t sound right. And I’m sure as hell not messing around with this. We call the ambulance.”
This was spiraling out of control faster than Will could keep up. Although he still felt a little woozy, he pulled away from his brother to stand on his own two feet. “No, look -- there’s no need for an ambulance,” he said. “I’m fine. I’m conscious. I’m ambulatory. I just need to get home and take a drink, lie down for a little bit, eat something.”
Jay clearly wasn’t buying. “This isn’t dehydration--”
“And you would know?” Will retorted.
But Jay’s eyes were like flint. “I saw you. I was right here when you went down. There’s no way I’m just letting you go home. None.”
Will assessed his brother’s position, and quickly deduced that there was no way he was getting him to budge. Will had let this get out of hand, and he’d freaked his brother out. There was no simple way to rectify that except to play a little bit by Jay’s rules. “Fine,” he relented. “You can drive me to the hospital.”
It was more of a concession than Will wanted to make, but he sensed just how precarious his situation was here. Still woozy and lightheaded, Will’s heart felt ready to beat out of his chest. He was nowhere near steady enough to walk out of this gym by himself -- much less drive himself home. Jay was never going to consent to playing nursemaid at this point, not without getting cleared by a medical professional.
Will wanted to spare himself the indignity of an ambulance ride. A quick check up at the hospital could get him hydrated and calmed, and he would offer plentiful remorseful statements explaining how he would prioritize his own health more. Then, he could walk off with a diagnosis of a panic attack and exhaustion and call it a day.
Jay would be incorrigible about all of it, but at least it would be better than having Jay make an official call.
Jay was making his own assessments of Will’s offer. No doubt his brother still wanted the ambulance, but he also didn’t seem to like the idea of doing it against Will’s wishes. Will could make this easy or hard, and Jay didn’t enjoy beating his head against a brick wall for no reason.
He was waffling, but his brotherly concern was stronger than Will had anticipated. “I don’t know,” he hedged.
“Jay, seriously,” Will said, keeping his voice as plain and even as he could. “Ambulances are expensive and time consuming, and if I’m stable, then I shouldn’t be wasting services intended for real emergencies.”
This final plea was the practical one, the one that appealed to the civil servants in both of them. It was just enough to tip the scales. “Fine,” Jay said. He lifted a finger and pointed it at Will. “But I am driving you there and checking you into the ED myself, you understand?”
Will held up his hands in acceptance. “I understand.”
“Good,” Jay growled, and he reached out for Will again. “Then, let’s get this thing going.”
For this much, Will knew better than to argue.
-o-
Admittedly, trying to walk to the car without falling over was a bigger challenge that Will had fully anticipated. Whatever had sparked his symptoms had not fully abated, and he appreciated the full extent of a panic attack for the first time in his life. Sure, he’d seen people go through them before, but experiencing it -- the crushing pressure in his chest, the inability to take a deep breath -- made him second guess how well he’d treated patients in this state in the past.
His bedside manner was a secondary concern, however. His main concern was first and foremost: not passing out. After that, he was contending with the reality that he was freaking his brother out.
Jay was pretty hard to freak out in a lot of ways. As a soldier and a cop, Jay had seen things that Will hadn’t. He’d done things that Will couldn’t even imagine. He was trained for combat, and his skills as a first responder made him one of the most impressive cops in the city -- not that Will was biased or anything.
But Will knew Jay, and that was the problem here. He knew his brother’s tells. The way he held onto Will’s arm the whole way out of the gym. The way he opened his door when they got to the car. Hell, his brother actually helped him get his seat belt buckled before he started the car, and he watched Will breathe more than he did the road.
Jay was scared, plain and simple. He was a tough guy, through and through, but he wasn’t impenetrable. He’d been their mom’s rock during cancer. He’d made the hard calls with their dad. The last thing Jay deserved was this. Another family member in distress.
Losing Mom had been hard. Jay still carried resentments about Will not being there for the hardest parts. Seeing Dad slip away had threatened to break him, and Jay had nearly turned his career upside down in a quest to assuage his guilt and doubt.
Will couldn’t be the next one on that list.
The thought of doing that to his brother -- now.
Of course, if he wasn’t still suffering from shortness of breath and chest pains, it would be a little easier. Still, as it was, Will kept himself upright and talking the whole way in. Every time Jay looked to see if he was okay, Will forced a confident smile, and then reminded his brother to keep his eyes on the road or they’d both end up dead.
Will was so focused on not keeling over that he didn’t fully appreciate what he had agreed to until they pulled up outside the emergency entrance to the hospital. In theory, going to the ED made a lot of sense when you were suffering from symptoms like Will was.
However, this wasn’t just any ED.
It was his ED.
Will worked here. He knew every nurse, doctor and tech.
The second he walked in there with any hint of palpitations?
Well, he wasn’t going to get out of it very easily. They took heart symptoms very seriously -- and with good reason. It didn’t take much for someone to die unexpectedly from a MI. Will had done more than his share of cardiac workups, and he’d both saved and lost patients suffering from heart attacks. So, he got it.
But they had to understand.
He wasn’t having a heart attack.
There was just no way he could be having a heart attack.
Convincing Jay was hard enough.
Convincing his colleagues?
Will was starting to wonder if he should have insisted on a beeline to East Mercy instead. At any rate, it was too late to question it. Jay had parked the car in the emergency loading zone, and Will was so slow in getting out that Jay had circled around to help him.
This was embarrassing, and Will tried to put him off. So determined as he was, Jay all but ignored him, gingerly helping Will step by step to the ED entrance. It was humiliating to say the least, having his brother usher him ceremoniously up to the check in desk. A woman named Lydia was on duty today, and her eyes widened when she saw him.
“Oh, Dr. Halstead!” she exclaimed, looking both concerned and confused. “Did you forget your badge? Because I can get security to clear you--”
Will was about to apologize to her for the dramatic inconvenience, but Jay beat him to it -- with an even more dramatic inconvenience. “He’s not here for work,” he said abruptly, still holding onto Will’s elbow. “He’s having chest pains, shortness of breath--”
“Well, we were playing basketball,” Will tried to contextualize.
Lydia looked from Jay to Will with wide eyes.
“And he passed out,” Jay said. “He’s still winded. See?”
Will made every effort to smile, but the look on Lydia’s face deepened to obvious distress. “Let’s get you inside, Dr. Halstead,” she said, reaching for her phone.
“No,” Will said. He gestured back behind him as best he could with Jay hovering next to him. “There are all these people still waiting--”
Lydia looked dismayed. “But heart attack symptoms--”
Will flushed, and Jay’s fingers tightened on his arm. “I’m not having a heart attack,” Will said as quickly as he could.
“Just get him into a room,” Jay said, his voice barely in check.
Will felt ridiculous, but he was pretty sure he was going to feel more ridiculous if he continued to sit with Jay in this waiting room, making a very public scene. In this context, ready acquiescence really was his only option here.
Lydia had already buzzed them in, talking in hushed tones over the phone, undoubtedly to Maggie. Which meant--
Sure enough, as soon as they got through the doors, Maggie was there to meet him with her phone in one hand and a wide-eyed expression of concern on her face. “Will?”
Will wanted to assuage her doubts, but Jay’s vice grip on his arm wasn’t doing him any favors. “I’m fine, Maggie.”
Maggie came along his other side, taking his other arm. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Will said. “Jay’s just overreacting.”
“I’m not,” Jay said, and he worked with Maggie to guide him through the ED doors. “We were playing basketball this morning, and he was off. He just wasn’t right.”
“I was tired,” Will said, hoping the air of exasperation in his voice would be convincing enough. “I’ve been pulling long hours--”
“He had chest pains,” Jay said over him, looking directly across him to Maggie.
Maggie’s eyes were back on Will, even wider than before. “Will?”
Will shook his head, hoping to be dismissive. “Maggie, you know how many hours I’ve been on. Between the lack of sleep, the inconsistent meals, and the general anxiety of where I’m at right now--”
“And then he passed out,” Jay concluded, playing the trump card that Will would never be able to top.
As expected, Maggie’s jaw hardened. She looked ahead, nodding toward one of the rooms. “I want you in exam 2, okay? Right now with you.”
They were already walking that way, Will flanked on both sides, but he still mounted his protest out of principle for just how over the top this was. “Maggie, please--”
“Uh uh,” she said, fingers a little tighter on his arm now. “Don’t try to fight me. You know I could take you down at your best, and Jay’s right. You look like hell right now.”
Fortunately, it wasn’t a long walk to exam 2.
Unfortunately, it was long enough. Will felt sick again as they approached, and it was made worse by the fact that literally everyone on duty could see him. Maybe the fast trip on the gurney would have been a better route. The prying eyes were almost more than he could bear. He’d been living with their looks for six months now. What would the rumor mill come up with for his latest mishap?
“Crockett, you’re up,” Maggie called. “Bring Anna with you. Doris, too.”
“Just Anna,” Will said.
Maggie gave him a look, but Crockett had already crossed over to them. He, too, looked concerned. Apparently, being a little pale and sweaty was a thing this morning.
“Will? I thought that was you,” he said, conversationally enough as he fell in step beside them. “You’re looking a little peaky, there. Anna, do we have a chair for our boy here?”
Will immediately protested. Anna, a petite dark-haired nurse, was turning to get one, but Will adamantly shook his head. “I’ll be fine,” he said. He looked back to Crockett. “It’s a short walk to exam 2.”
“You got him?” Maggie asked, looking to Crockett.
“I got him,” Crockett said with his trademark confidence.
Maggie let go and glared at Will. “Listen to Crockett,” she said. “Or I swear to you--”
Will rolled his eyes, and Crockett smiled politely. “I’m sure Will is going to be the model patient,” he said, moving in next to Will where Maggie had vacated. “Anna, go ahead and prep the room.”
Anna squeezed ahead of them, but they were only a step behind as they got into exam 2. At this point, Jay had gone painfully silent, and Crockett was giving them both a thorough once over, surely trying to assess what he was dealing with here.
“Just let me know if you’re struggling,” he said. He didn’t take up Will’s other arm, which was a small grace. Instead, Crockett entered the room ahead of them, leading the way and trusting Will -- with Jay right at his side -- to follow.
Despite his insistence, the walk wasn’t as easy as Will would have liked to pretend. Although he felt better than he had back at the gym, he felt a far cry from normal. He’d been under the weather all week, but it seemed to be getting the better of him now.
The last thing he needed was to admit that, however.
Instead, he focused on one foot in front of the other. When they got to exam 2, Jay didn’t let go, guiding Will all the way to the gurney. Will felt ludicrous, being guided around like a small child, and he felt a wave of relief when he was finally seated and Jay was able to step away.
A little, anyway.
Jay still hovered.
“Okay,” Crockett said, bringing the exam room to life to run the trauma. “I know this is awkward, Will, but we’re going to cut your shirt off for now.”
“Not necessary,” Will said.
“Will, you know how this works,” Crockett said. Anna had already produced a trauma kit, unwrapping the scissors.
“Yeah, I do,” Will said, chuckling dryly. He reached down, pulling his shirt up and over his head. The fact that it hurt -- the fact that it made him struggle for air -- was notwithstanding. He wasn’t on the monitors yet. No one would ever know, and all he had to do was calm down. He handed the shirt to Jay, who accepted it reluctantly. “See?”
He supposed he was trying to prove some kind of point. Jay looked unimpressed by it. Crockett maintained an air of professional indifference. “Great,” he said instead, moving around Will. With a gentle push, he encouraged Will further onto the gurney’s surface. “Now, lie down for me--”
“Crockett--”
“Will, we’re going to need to examine you fully,” he said. “I missed the start of the story, but I heard that there was talk of chest pains--”
Will’s patience for this exercise was eroding by the minute. “Minor pains,” he said. “Stress or exercise--”
“Where were you?” Crockett asked.
Jay interjected. “Basketball. We meet at the gym, play one on one. He wasn’t able to hold his own today, and I’m not that good.”
Crockett nodded along with the story, and looked to Will again. “When did the pains start?”
Will sighed, feeling even more exasperated. The anxiety felt like it was coiled in his chest now, so dense that it hurt to take a breath. “I don’t know; it’s hard to say. They’re minor, coming and going for a few days now.”
“And when you say pains,” Crockett said. “Are we talking like muscle spasms? Or like your chest is tight?”
“I don’t know -- a little of both,” Will admitted, wishing he could provide more clarity to prove his case. “But I’ve been working crazy hours lately. Not enough sleep, high stress environment -- the aches and pains come with the territory.”
“But tell him about the shortness of breath--” Jay said, nodding at Will anxiously.
Crockett raised his eyebrows.
“A little, maybe,” Will barely acknowledged.
“You were so winded and sweaty, you actually passed out,” Jay said.
Will shook his head quickly to contradict him. “I was barely out,” he said. “Like I said, I’m working too much. Sleeping too little. Eating crappy meals. I’ve had indigestion for days now -- this is all much ado about nothing, Crockett. I promise.”
“Well, we will determine that shortly,” Crockett agreed. “After you’ve laid down so we can monitor you. You know this is standard procedure.”
It was standard procedure, and Will did know it.
“Come on,” Crockett cajoled. “Just let us get started. Let Anna start the IV, get you on the oxygen clip, monitors--”
“Okay,” Will said, easing himself back against the gurney. It wasn’t fully reclined, which was good, but Will still felt unusually exposed in the supine position. “I know you have a job to do.”
Crockett smiled amiably. “Thank you,” he said. Then, to Anna. “Get the IV going, please. Saline.”
Anna murmured her agreement, and Crockett reached for another set of tools from the trauma tray.
While the nurse unfurled his arm, tying it off to get a vein for an IV, Crockett busied himself on Will’s other side. The nurse was tapping the vein, and Crockett clipped an oxygen monitor to his index finger. While the nurse got the needle in place, Crockett was measuring Will’s blood pressure. The IV flow was confirmed, and the monitors went live, and Will knew the trauma would transition to the next phase.
That was just how it was, after all. After an initial visual assessment and rough history, baseline vitals were established to start preliminary treatment. Now that he was fully hooked up, Will knew that the first line of vitals was starting to come through.
He glanced at Crockett, trying to get a read on the trauma surgeon’s assessment. Crockett had a better poker face than Will anticipated. “So?” he asked instead. “How bad?”
Crockett made a little face, but he didn’t obfuscate. “190/110,” he said.
“Okay,” Will said, craning his neck back to see the monitors for himself. He had asked how bad it was, but he had honestly been expecting better. “I mean, that’s borderline--”
“That’s high, Will,” Crockett said before he could finish. He was readily hooking up the EKG monitors to his chest. “High enough for us to be a little concerned about things right now.”
Crockett had an exemplary bedside manner with his laid back New Orleans accent and gentle treatment style. He and Will had never worked closely together before, and their minor run-ins regarding Natalie had hardly endeared them to one another. Will didn’t hold a grudge on that one, though. If anything, he knew that Crockett had gotten the short end of the stick there -- and without cause.
Will had gotten what he deserved.
And this -- Will didn’t even know what this was.
Crockett was a good doctor and a good person, and Will shouldn’t have had any issue with that.
Except that the other doctor was standing there, telling him that--
No, he wasn’t.
That wasn’t happening.
A cause for concern was one thing. It was a symptom, not a diagnosis.
“Fine,” Will said stubbornly. He pointed to the monitors. “Then, let’s get the test going. See what we got.”
It wasn’t flippancy, but it wasn’t exactly confidence either. It was more that Will knew that the longer he drew this assessment out, the longer it was until he could get back to real things in his life. Jay would never let him go home without a clean bill of health, and at this point, he wasn’t getting out of Med until he satisfied the bare minimum of tests involved for his symptoms.
Will was playing by the rules these days.
So it was time to play.
Crockett smiled at him, pressing a few buttons to create a live feed. The EKG monitor started beeping away, and Crockett busied himself adjusting a few more of the monitor settings. At the first reported value, Crockett kept his expression neutral, and Will watched anxiously until more readings came out.
“So?” he asked.
Crockett sighed, turning the monitor toward him and pointing to it. “I was waiting to see if it was a fluke, but it doesn’t look that way I’m afraid,” he said, tapping the screen. “You’ve got a whole line of ST elevations.”
Will leaned forward, feeling momentarily gobsmacked. He stared at the screen, willing it to change, but the next readout was the same as the first few.
“Could be a stress reaction,” Will said.
From the side, Jay stepped forward. He looked at the screen and then to Will. “What? What are we looking at?”
Crockett rocked his head a little, as though he didn’t want to openly contradict Will. “It’s not likely--”
Will blew out a breath and shook his head, ignoring Jay entirely for the moment. “No--”
Crockett didn’t want to contradict Will, but it was pretty clear he would. “Will, come on. These readings--”
Will drew back, crossing his arms over his chest and pretending like it didn’t hurt. “No. No way.”
Crocket offered him a sympathetic smile. “I wish I could say it wasn’t, but look at the ST elevations,” he said, pointing to the screen again. “I mean, it’s a pretty classic presentation.”
Jay stepped even closer, interjecting himself more forcefully this time. “A classic presentation of what?” he asked, looking bewildered between Will and Crockett. “What are we looking at here?”
This time, Will couldn’t bring himself to look at anything. The tension squeezed tightly across his chest, and he resisted the urge to massage his aching shoulder. He flushed hot and cold simultaneously, and his mouth was suddenly too dry to form words.
Crockett, being the good doctor that he was, noticed. He answered the question on Will’s behalf, like Will was just like any other shell-shocked patient in the face of a bad diagnosis.
“The EKG measures the way the heart works,” Crockett explained kindly for Jay. “We’re able to see if the heart is in normal rhythm or if there is something strange going on. Right here, these raised lines? Show ST elevations. They show that the heart function is operating well off the baseline.”
The explanation was thorough, and Will felt too tight to speak. He knew every word of it, but this time it was about him, his heart. None of it computed, and he could feel his heart rate rise, and he watched the lines spike slightly on the monitor with a self conscious pang while his blood pressure tipped up as well.
Jay, however, shook his head, fixated on Crockett. The fact that he was still at a loss was starting to visibly grate at him. “So?”
“So,” Crockett said, slowly and carefully with a long look at Will. If he was waiting for input, Will couldn’t bring himself to provide it now as his heart beated painfully in his chest. “This kind of movement is strongly indicative of a heart attack.”
Jay blinked at Crockett. “A heart attack?”
“It’s just one variable,” Will said, interjecting the argument with a fit of desperation. His chest felt tight again, like it had all week. He didn’t want to think about it. In futility, he shook his head. “It doesn’t mean--”
Crockett drew a breath and looked back at Will with some regret. “Will, I know this must be really hard -- I can’t even imagine -- but if you read this on any other patient, you would come to the exact same conclusion.”
“But we need to do a full cardiac workup--”
Crockett nodded along in total agreement. “And we will,” he said. “But we can’t ignore the obvious here. I’ve already got cardio on their way down, but we need to start treating this now.”
“Crockett--”
Nice and amiable as Crockett was, he was no pushover. “Whatever the cause, we need to get your blood pressure under control and boost your O2 levels. I’d also like to get some cardiac meds started to even out the arrhythmias, and we’ll work up the other tests and see what comes.”
In Will’s mind, the differential was still broad, but Crockett was right. Whatever the underlying cause, the symptoms needed to be addressed -- and could be addressed. Whether or not this was much ado about nothing, it would be irresponsible to not at least try getting his vitals in check.
“Fine,” he said, relinquishing his arguments for now. “We’ll treat the symptoms.”
Crockett looked pleased, and he tapped his tablet with his hand. “Great,” he said. “We’ll get another blood draw, and I’ll get you scheduled for a few tests, okay?”
“Okay,” Will agreed. He sighed, feeling just a tinge sheepish. “Thanks, Crockett.”
“I’d say any time, but let’s hope not,” Crockett joked on his way to the door. He nodded to Jay. “If there’s anything you need.”
Crockett cleaned his hands, closing the door behind him, and Will sank back against the pillows in exhaustion. He was more tired than he’d realized. The burst of adrenaline from checking into his own hospital had reached its pinnacle. Now that it was abating, the pressure in his chest was building again, palms sweating. He could feel the palpitations even before they registered on the monitor.
Closing his eyes, Will tried to breathe through it. Anxiety was a mental problem with physical manifestation. He’d seen it countless times. What would Dr. Charles say to him right now?
Knowing his luck, Dr. Charles would be the next to check on him. As a matter of friendliness, no doubt. And Will would be subjected to a full cardiac workup and a psychological profile.
Opening his eyes again, he turned to Jay. He was about to say something snarkily encouraging about the process, but then he saw his brother’s face.
Jay looked freaked.
Pale, drawn and wide-eyed, it seemed like his brother should be the one in the hospital bed, not him.
“A heart attack?” Jay asked.
In retrospect, Jay was probably entitled a little freak out. It sounded scary, and Will had never really thought much about how much a doctor could dictate with a speculative diagnosis before running the full differential.
“A suspected heart attack,” Will clarified, trying to sit up once more. He still felt diaphoretic, but if he could keep himself from being out of breath too much and have a conversation, he might be able to allay Jay’s fears.
Might.
There was no guarantee.
After all, Jay’s face showed now signs of buying that. “I saw you go down at basketball, man. You couldn’t breathe; your chest hurt--”
Will could not help but feel exasperated, even if what Jay was saying was technically true. “Which are both symptoms of countless conditions--”
“And now these ST things?” Jay pressed.
Will sighed, wishing his brother hadn’t picked up on that one. “They have to run more tests in order to put those readings in any kind of context.”
Will’s answer was entirely reasonable, but Jay seemed intent on playing devil’s advocate for the time being. “Why are you pretending like this isn’t a thing? Dad literally had a heart attack right in front of you. You’re the one who dragged him in to see a cardiologist.”
“Dad was old,” Will protested. He tried to flit his hands through the air, but the oxygen clip on his finger made that less poignant. “He had poor diet and no exercise--”
“And heart disease,” Jay insisted. “A condition you said was probably made worse by genetic factors.”
Will’s jaw tensed. Of all the things for his brother to listen to. Jay had a habit of ignoring doctors at every turn, but that point he found salient. “Jay, we don’t know what this is.”
Jay was digging in his heels now, classic Halstead stubbornness. “Or we do know, and you just don’t want to admit it.”
“Oh, and you’re the doctor here?” Will asked, wishing he could make a more effective case. The whole hospital gown was undercutting his credibility here.
“No, you are,” Jay snapped. He sat back sullenly, arms over his chest. “So I’m not sure why the hell you aren’t acting like one?”
That one hit, closer than Will wanted to admit. He was used to hospitals; they didn’t freak him out. He didn’t care about tubes or needles. At least, not when he was the doctor. Ordering tests was fine when he was the one in charge. Inserting needles and tubes -- totally normal when he was the doctor.
But to be a patient. To have his control stripped away. To be made vulnerable like this.
It was more than hard.
It was the feeling he’d fought so hard against all his life. He’d grown up having to prove himself. His old man had never thought he was good enough. He was always the butt of every joke at school. When other kids had parents visiting them at college, Will had been forced to do it alone. Of course he partied hard. There was nothing waiting for him at home except disapproval and disappointment. You did get through medical school on that.
A lot had changed, but here Will was. Vulnerable as ever.
Only this time, flat on his ass and hooked up to an IV, there was nowhere to run.
He shifted uncomfortably on the bed and shook his head. “Look, we won’t know anything until the cardio assessment is complete. So, let’s just wait and see, okay?”
Jay sat back sullenly.
This was not how today was supposed to go. This was not how any of it was supposed to go. Will was supposed to be getting things back on the straight and narrow. Will was supposed to be growing up. Will was supposed to be stepping up -- at the hospital and with his brother.
And with one minor episode of syncope, he’d managed to thwart all his effort on both fronts.
“In fact, you really don’t even have to stay,” Will suggested. “I mean, you’re supposed to be at work by now, right? Won’t Voight be worried?”
Jay glared at him, suggesting that Will had taken the wrong tact here. “Heart attack, Will.”
“Potential heart attack,” Will corrected again. “You should at least call in.”
Jay breathed out hard through his nose, getting to his feet. “Fine,” he said. “I’m going to be right outside, so I swear to God--”
Will held up his hands. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jay didn’t look wholly convinced as he got his phone out of his pocket.
“Seriously,” Will said. “I’m a patient in my own ED. Where do you think I could go?”
Jay accepted that, though he didn’t seem thrilled about it.
That was fine, Will conceded as Jay stepped out into the hall. He looked around the exam room with a long, hard sigh. Now that he was alone, he allowed himself a moment to rub his chest and gasp for air, trying to massage the kink of out of his shoulder.
Jay didn’t have to like this.
Will wasn’t too fond of any of it himself.
Disclaimer: I got nothing.
A/N: Set in a post-S6 world but written before I saw S7. So it’s technically AU, but it plays heavily on the themes of Will trying to recover his decimated career. No beta. Fills my heart attack square for hc_bingo.
Summary: Will’s so worried about getting his head in order that he completely overlooks the heart of the matter.
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
-o-
When Will first came to Chicago, he’d intended to quit the Med job on his first day. He’d been scared to stick around. The idea of putting down roots had seemed untenable.
Now, nearly a decade later, those roots were pretty hard to pull out. Now, ironically, he was terrified to leave.
That was how he’d ended up at Med, even after Ms. Goodwin had unceremoniously fired him for a crime that he had only partially committed. When she learned the truth, she had relented. If Will had had an ounce of self respect left, he probably would have declined her offer and stuck it out with his plan to start fresh elsewhere. Except that hadn’t been the plan. The plan had been to stay in Chicago, find his happily ever after and be a Canaryville boy until the day he died.
That was the dream, and Will wasn’t sure what the reality was at this point. Natalie had left and taken Owen with her, and Will had ruined every other relationship he’d started in Chicago. His professional trajectory was somewhere between stagnant and disaster, and although Ms. Goodwin had taken him off probation after three months, he still felt tenuous after six months back on the job.
Really, the only thing he had going for him was that he was actually still employed at Med.
The job he’d tried to quit was now the one he was clinging to in desperation.
It was pathetic, and Will knew it. But it was all he could do.
So, six months after his fall from grace, he’d been working to rebuild. His personal life, his career, his professional respect, his relationship with his brother -- all of it.
He put his heart into it, holding nothing back.
Funny how he was foolish enough to believe that his heart would be enough.
-o-
Will was struggling to make amends, but he was really about the only one. After the flurry of disasters six months ago, life had largely returned to normal in the ED. Archer’s tenure had been short and contentious. He spent a good three weeks trying to rip the ED apart, and while the rest of the staff had chafed, Will had just kept his head down and trusted well enough. Ethan finally intervened, coming back to partial duty early, and Archer had been fired not long after.
Will helped out as best he could until Ethan was back on his feet, and the ED handled the rest of the changes better. April left to pursue her schooling, and Natalie had relocated to Seattle to start over with her family. April and Ethan were still doing the long distance thing, having reconnected over Ethan’s near-death experience, and Will kept in touch with Natalie just to make sure that things were going well.
They were, as best he could tell. She was happy; she was settling in. Like everyone else, she was moving on.
Everyone except Will, that was.
The problem was that, even off probation, Will knew he didn’t deserve to be there. He’d gone over it in his head countless times, and there was no reason for Goodwin to offer him his job back. She’d been justified in firing him. Maybe it had been sentiment that pushed her to keep him on, and he had been tempted to say no. If not for Jay, Will probably would have run instead.
It would have been easier, in some ways, to avoid the humiliation of coming to work each day, knowing he hadn’t earned his spot. It would have caused him a lot less anxiety, that much was sure.
But he owed it to Jay to stay in Chicago. With all Jay had lost in recent years -- and with his upcoming wedding to Hailey -- Will didn’t want to bail on his brother like he always did. If Will was going to grow up, then he was really going to grow up.
Of course, that sounded good in theory.
In practical application, it was a lot of work.
A lot of work.
He was basically starting his career over from zero, and there was almost no promise of advancement. He had to rebuild his reputation from scratch, and it required constant work. Will went out of his way to be the best now. And not just for flashy surgeries and big procedures. He did it in the little things. He was always available for a consult. He was always the first to volunteer for extra shifts, and he spent twice as long making sure that his charts were absolutely impeccable.
He hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in six months, and he didn’t see it getting better -- well, ever. Goodwin was always watching him, even when she said she wasn’t, and he couldn’t escape the reality that he was always one mistake away from termination.
To compensate, he threw himself into his work even more. He started skipping meals when he took on extra teaching duties. He kept a stash of power bars, bananas and energy drinks in his locker to keep him going. The caffeine probably did nothing for the anxiety, and he often felt like he needed to take a few minutes in the bathroom, just to breathe, to calm down, to get his heart beating normally again.
He had to listen to the anxiety for once. He had to lean into it. He’d spent too many years ignoring his better judgement, and that was what got him into this mess. The anxiety was a sign of self awareness, and every time his heart beat out of his chest, he had to think, he was finally doing something right.
-o-
Yet, the anxiety was still anxiety. When he was working with a patient, he generally felt okay, but he felt rundown each night, too winded to even bother pretending like life was normal. Then, as his diet suffered, his indigestion picked up. The burning was persistent, not responding to the antacids he started popping at the risk of kidney stones, and he woke up feeling worse than when he went to bed.
The worst, however, was interacting with his colleagues. In the ED, everyone was unfailingly polite. Ethan seemed to have taken him into confidence after his return to work, and Will found it stressingly vexing. His heart started pounding every time he needed to have a professional conversation, and when he happened to cross paths with Ms. Goodwin, he almost couldn’t breathe altogether.
He had started to actively avoid her, for all the good that did. By keeping his head down and making sure he dotted every i and crossed every t, he was able to avoid being summoned to her office most of the time. But she had a habit of being involved in her hospital, and sometimes Will just couldn’t get away.
Today was one of those days.
The worst part was he didn’t see her coming. He was finishing up with a patient, having just sanitized his hands. Swinging out of the exam room, he was on his way to promptly update the chart when she was standing right in front of him.
His heart squeezed so hard in his chest that he literally felt sick. The blood drained from his head and he thought he might pass out.
Of all things, she smiled at him. “Dr. Halstead, it’s good to see you.”
It was funny that she sounded like she meant it.
Will took a split second to breathe again, and his heart fumbled its way back into rhythm. “Yes,” he said, and his voice sounded as pitchy as it did when he was in puberty. He somehow managed to smile. “It’s good to see you, too.”
She gave him a funny look, which he naturally deserved. He wished he could get out of there, but running out on his boss was even worse than actually talking to her. “Are you doing okay?” she asked with a furrowed brow.
“What? I’m fine,” he said quickly.
His assurance only seemed to temper her response even more. “You look a little under the weather.”
His heart was pounding again. His chest hurt and he felt a low roil in his gut. He thought of countless lies and abandoned them each. “Nothing serious,” he said. “My stomach’s been a little off, is all.”
“Oh?” she asked, her concern peaking.
He quickly shook his head. “Just indigestion -- really. It’s been hard to sneak in time for a full meal these days.”
His continued efforts to deflate her line of questioning seemed to be backfiring. “You really should make the effort, Dr. Halstead. I have seen the hours you’re pulling lately. That’s not healthy.”
“Oh, well, I’m just trying to be part of the team,” Will said.
She nodded along as though she understood. “Being part of the team doesn’t mean you have to take one for the team,” she said. She reached out, gently patting his arm. “So, take care of yourself. We need you at your best.”
He withdrew with a small, rapid bob of his head. “I will,” he promised. “You can count on me.”
Her look turned a little quizzical as she started on her way again. “I don’t doubt it.”
He watched her go, holding his breath until she was out of sight. He slumped forward, taking a small gasp for air. He rubbed his chest, feeling even worse than before. He’d said too much; he’d revealed too much. Now she was going to have her eye on him even more. Now she was going to question if he could even do his damn job.
He closed his eyes, sighing.
Now he was going to have to work harder than ever. He couldn’t afford another crisis right now, not when her opinion of him was already so low and not when his reputation around the ED was already so bad. He had to be on the straight and narrow. He had to keep his head down and stop attracting attention.
Opening his eyes, he felt weary and tired as he got to work that morning, still rubbing his chest.
-o-
Will worked nonstop through the morning, skipping all his breaks and avoiding all distracting conversation. He used to enjoy downtime in the ED, but he found it unbearable now. People were still polite to him, but that almost made it worse. Facing their pity, knowing that he didn’t deserve to be here like they did, made his need to perform even more pronounced.
For all the good it seemed to be doing him.
Six months in, and he felt like he was just further behind. No matter what he did, he couldn’t catch up.
By the time he stopped to eat, it was already 1:30 in the afternoon. He thought about just skipping it altogether -- he still had an energy bar or two in his locker -- but Ms. Goodwin’s words were heavy invectives. Instead, he made a point to go down to the cafeteria, ordering a salad and an apple with a bottle of water, before sitting himself down at a small table alone at the back.
He wasn’t remotely hungry, even though his stomach gurgled, and he stuffed in as much as he could before he started to feel sick. Then, right when Crockett smiled at him across the cafeteria with the intention to join him, Will waved him off and got up under the pretense that he was on an important call.
In truth, he made a beeline to the bathroom where he promptly threw up in the toilet.
Food just didn’t taste right.
He didn’t feel right, either.
Flushing the toilet, he left the stall and splashed cold water on his face. It didn’t do anything to make him look or feel better.
No matter.
Will would just keep faking it until it made it.
Or until he fell apart.
Whichever came first.
-o-
Will worked late, but he made another effort to eat a real meal for dinner. He picked up his favorite from a place he used to frequent -- a chicken sandwich and a side salad. However, by the time he got it home, he found his appetite for it had vanished. He took several bites, but the indigestion had surged into his chest again, making him unable to eat more than a few bites.
He put the rest in the fridge, and he tried to find some solace in the fact that he tried.
He was still trying.
Even if it was never enough.
-o-
Exhausted though he was, Will couldn’t sleep any better than he could eat. Every time he laid down, heartburn woke him right back up again. After tossing and turning miserably for awhile, Will went out to the living room and leaned back in his chair. Turning on the TV, he massaged his shoulder and worked his jaw. He watched reruns and infomercials until he couldn’t think anymore and morning mercifully arrived.
That way he could wake up and do it all over again.
-o-
Today, however, Will had to make a stop before work.
The gym.
He’d always made time for the gym in the past. As a doctor, he knew how important exercise was, and he’d seen too many people cycle through the ED with the same regret of not sticking to an exercise regimen. He wasn’t some die-hard about it, but he enjoyed running and basic cross training.
At least, he used to.
Now, when he went to the gym, he was too tired to maintain his old stamina. It seemed to be getting worse. Over the last week, every time he tried to exercise, he was instantly drenched in sweat. Once or twice, he’d stopped early to throw up instead. He was at the point where he really should have just stayed home for extra sleep except for two small problems.
One, he wasn’t able to sleep.
Two, he wasn’t going to the gym by himself today.
No, today, he had his weekly meeting with Jay. Sometimes they played racquetball, but today Jay had requested basketball.
Did Will have time for this? Not really. Did Will have the energy for it? Not at all.
But he couldn’t be naive about things, not now. One of the main reasons he’d agreed to come back to Med was because he couldn’t imagine leaving his brother. Running away and rebuilding in a far flung location -- that was what Will did when things got tough. But he knew how much that had hurt Jay in the past, and he wasn’t about to do it again. His relationship with Jay was the only thing he had going right at the moment. He wasn’t about to jeopardize that for anything.
Besides, Ms. Goodwin had been clear. He needed to take care of himself. Getting exercise, staying active and maintaining robust personal relationships were all critical facets of self care. Dr. Charles would surely be proud of him for the effort.
Even if the execution was a little lacking.
He was sore and sluggish. He wasn’t sure what part of him was suffering more: his brotherly banter or his basketball game. To his credit, he did his best with both. It was just that, as with many things in Will’s life these days, his best was nowhere near enough.
They did a few minutes of warmups, during which Will missed nearly every shot he threw up. Dribbling down the court was a chore, and he must have aggravated a muscle in his shoulder. The joint had been achy on and off, but today it was nearly unbearable.
And his stomach still wasn’t settled. He hadn’t eaten since last night, but the burning and pressure had continued to persist. In fact, if anything, it was worse now. And nothing helped.
Things only got worse when the game actually started. Jay went at him hard, and Will kept up for about two plays before he had to take a breather and get a drink. He wasn’t thirsty, but it was the only excuse he could come up with. Drinking the water only made this worse. The pressure had built up in his stomach and spread through his chest and neck.
After several more lackluster plays, Jay mocked him. In frustration, Will managed to stay in the game for two more plays, finally landing his first basket. They were playing to 21, and Will was already down by 8. Humiliation was something he was used to, at least.
“Seriously, step up, bro,” Jay said, barely breaking a sweat. “You’re supposed to make these interesting.”
“Shut up,” Will snapped, unable to add much levity to his voice. “Give me the ball.”
Jay raised his eyebrows. “Oh, so that’s how it is today?”
The aching was intense enough that he was feeling lightheaded. He would have to take some Tylenol when he got into work. Something to take the edge off and just get through this damn day.
“Yeah,” Will said, gritting out the words as he tried to keep his breathing in and out, in and out. “That’s how it is today.”
Jay smirked. At least he hadn’t realized just how bad Will felt yet. “Check it, then,” he said, tossing the ball to Will with some force.
Too much force.
Will did his best not to grimace, but it didn’t really work. He checked the ball, receiving it back. He took a breath and held it, trying to counterbalance the pressure already built up in his chest. He made his move, charging forward, but his movements were sloppy and haphazard. He made it several dribbles toward the basket, charging almost blindly, when Jay easily tipped the ball and it went flying. He reached to stop it, but his fingers could get control and it skidded out of control and hit the wall.
“Off you!” Jay jeered, grabbing it.
Will was breathless when he got to the line. He could feel the heat in his face, sweat collecting in his hair. He wanted to stop, to think, to catch his breath, but Jay was all in. Will had to focus.
Seeing the ball in Jay’s hands, Will read his brother’s movements perfectly. He was about to feign to the left and do a straight line layup to the basket. It was a signature move, and one that Jay thought was rather clever. And it might have been -- had Will not been playing Jay one-on-one since grade school.
Will anticipated the move, but when he went to make the block, he found himself too slow. Sloppy and uncoordinated, he didn’t pluck the ball from Jay’s hands. He all but collided with the ball, sending it flying out of bounds and bouncing into the wall.
Worse, the effort seemed to leave him spent. He realized belatedly that his heart was about to beat out of his chest. He bent over, taking a moment to try to steady himself.
“Out off you,” Jay said, retrieving the ball with a small smirk. He was gloating, the bastard. “Again.”
“Whatever,” Will said, brushing his hair back off his forehead. It was sweatier than he remembered, and he took his time straightening back up.
“That’s your comeback?” Jay asked. “Did you catch something from the hospital or something?”
“What?” Will asked. He did his best not to visibly wheeze, even if catching his breath was harder than he wanted to admit right now. That past play had been intended as an elegant steal. Instead, Will had all but flailed into Jay and knocked the ball out of bounds. It was too silly to admit, and honestly, denial was his favorite coping mechanism now that running away from his problems was off the table. He summoned a look of incredulity. “No.”
Jay was watching him with a critical gaze, moving the ball outside the line to bring it in off Will’s out of bounds play. “You look off.”
The response was trained. It was practically a reflex by now. “Just tired.”
“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” Jay said with a scowl.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been tired for weeks,” Will replied with a matter of fact tone. He nodded at the ball in his brother’s hands. “Now, check the damn ball.”
The invective was straightforward enough. Jay pushed the ball, bouncing it toward Will on the other side of the baseline. Will bounced it back, and Jay let the play come alive. He faked hard to the right -- and then to the left. Will had played basketball with his brother all his life. He knew that this was his brother’s favorite fake. It would end with a hard push to the right, and Will moved to block, but he was a heartbeat too slow.
Literally.
He could feel his heartbeat now with even more acuity, a searing pain across his chest. He wheezed in earnest now, having no ability to hide it anymore. He was struggling to keep up, but by the time his sluggish feet got themselves in order, Jay had already scored an easy jump shot from inside the arc.
Rebounding his own ball, Jay looked back at him. “Seriously, man, that’s like the fifth shot in a row I’ve taken you for. You sure you’re okay?”
Panting hard, Will felt the sweat building up in his hairline and soak the back of his shirt. He approached his brother and took the ball with a huff. “Just shut up,” he muttered, taking the ball out of bounds. “Let’s go again.”
It was Will’s turn to check it, and he had plans for one of his more elaborate plays. It required speed and agility, and Will made it only two steps before it just wasn’t enough. His dribbling was sloppy, and his feet were just too slow. Easily, Jay stripped him of the ball, passing him without a second’s hesitation. Will half collapsed, resting his hands on his knees, while his brother scored again.
That was bothersome, of course. But the ache in his chest was spreading, and Will felt a new stiffness in his shoulder. He tried to roll it out, straightening back up as he felt rivulets of sweat down his face.
“Maybe you did catch something,” Jay said, throwing the ball to Will again. “I mean, COVID is still going around.”
“I’m vaccinated,” Will reminded him, taking the ball and trying not to show how winded he was. “And I’m also fine.”
Embarrassment was running deep now, and Will knew it was time to prove himself once and for all. His brother had enough to worry about -- being a cop was a lot more dangerous than being a doctor -- and Will couldn’t stand the thought of being another burden on his brother.
He was here for Jay.
He would push himself for Jay.
That was the way it was now. Will had spent most of his life living for his own selfish ends. Now, it was different. Now, he was focused on being the best he could be for other people. The best doctor for the hospital. The best brother for his family. That meant working the longest shifts. That meant playing the best games of basketball he could.
He couldn’t afford to fail again.
His mind set on the task now, Will took the ball. This time, he managed to control his dribble, almost checking Jay out of his way while he drove to the hoop. It wasn’t his most graceful attempt, but when he lobbed up his layup, this time, it actually sank through the net.
It should have been relief, but heat radiated through his chest instead, lighting like fire up his neck and down his arms. Even so, he grimaced until he smiled back to his brother. “See?” he said, as though he had just proved some kind of point. “I can still take you.”
It was all bravado, but it was really all Will had right now.
Jay rebounded the ball as it bounced away, and he half laughed as he turned back toward Will. “It’s like 2 to 12,” he said, dribbling the ball in a cursory fashion. “I’m still kicking your ass.”
It took all of Will’s effort to stay upright by this point. His vision was spotty but he did his best to ignore it along with all the other things he was feeling at the moment. Heartburn, shortness of breath, nerve pain, lightheadedness, nausea--
“Whatever,” Will said, blinking blindly and forcing himself to move. “You’re scared now.”
Jay was a good cop -- observant and smart -- but he was still Will’s brother. He knew all the right buttons to push, even when pushing said buttons threatened to make him keel over. “Oh, you think so?” Jay taunted. He lined up at the baseline, throwing the ball at Will to check it.
Will barely managed to get the ball back, and Jay was gone in an instant. He easily sidestepped Will, making a fast play around him, and driving straight to the basket. Will heard the sound, but he couldn’t turn to see it. In fact, he couldn’t see anything at all.
“And you were saying?” Jay said, the ire raising with familiar banter now. “Who’s scared?”
But Will couldn’t answer.
Hell, Will hadn’t even moved. His feet were still planted on the floor by the sideline, and now the spots in his vision were starting to take over. The pain in his chest had expanded, and he realized that the tightness was more pervasive than he’d allowed himself to realize. It was like a vice squeezing him and squeezing him and--
He couldn’t inhale now, it was so tight. His vision was all but black now, as his hearing tunneled like he was underwater. Jay was still gloating, but Will couldn’t make out the words over the incessant pounding of his heart between his ears.
His panic spiked. Fear gripped him. He was losing control now, he was losing everything.
“Will?” Jay asked from somewhere. “Are you okay?”
Will wanted to answer yes.
But the universe wasn’t keen on giving Will what he wanted these days.
He probably deserved that.
But Jay didn’t.
“Will!”
He was falling before he could stop himself, and the world rushed by him as everything went black. He was caught in the abyss for a moment -- suspended and held taut -- and he could feel his heart stutter to a stop as his lungs seized up. For a horrible, tremulous moment, that felt like that was it, that was everything, that was the end--
But then, his heart staggered back. His lungs expanded. With a gasp, Will opened his eyes.
“Will,” Jay said, leaning over him. “Stay still.”
The order didn’t make much sense. Will was flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the gym. Jay looked terrified.
“I -- what?” Will asked, blinking furiously as he tried to get his bearings. His head was still spinning, and when he tried to take a deep breath, it only made things worse.
“Just -- stay still,” Jay said, he was pressing down on Will’s shoulder to keep him in place. “Do you know where you are? Do you know what happened?”
Will’s vision was funny around the edges, but he recognized his brother well enough. “The gym,” he said, looking around at the lights. “We’re playing basketball. I -- got lightheaded.”
“And passed out,” Jay said, filling in that blank with a dour look. “I don’t think you went down hard, and you were only out for a second, but we need to get you to the hospital--”
Will drew his attention back to Jay in surprise. “I’m fine.”
It was a reflex to say, quick and automatic. The fact that he was strained for air, pained and flat on his back didn’t help prove his point.
Jay knew it, too. “You’re not fine,” he said, he sat back on his knees, his expression tight.
“Of course I’m fine,” Will insisted out of principle.
Jay looked like he was ready to blow a gasket. “Will, I just watched you pass out.”
“Exhaustion,” Will said, still struggling to take his next breath. “All those long shifts--”
“And you’re winded,” Jay said. “Even now, you can’t catch your breath.”
“We are playing basketball--”
All his explanations only served to make Jay more dubious. “Will, you don’t look right. I’ve noticed it all day, and your little swan dive proves it. I’m not messing around with this. We need to call the ambulance.”
Even as Jay insisted, Will had leveraged himself back into a seated position. Jay lingered close, hand at his back with his gaze intent. Under this scrutiny, Will knew that his wincing would not go unnoticed. Upright as he was, he found himself unconsciously guarding his chest.
Jay shook his head. “Your chest hurts, doesn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me, asshole?”
By now, Jay was digging in his pocket for his phone. Will eschew the physical discomfort. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not, Will,” Jay said with clipped syllables. He was logging into his phone now. “I’m calling 911.”
Will reached out, using his right hand on his brother’s forearm. “Jay, seriously, stop. I’m just -- exhausted. Overworked. Stressed out--“
Jay hesitated, but the look he used was clearly strained. “Will--“
With his brother’s attention, Will capitalized. “All the hallmarks of a panic attack,” he reasoned even while his chest still labored for oxygen. “You have to let me breathe here. Let my pulse settle.”
To call Jay’s look dubious now would be an understatement. “You’re telling me you had a panic attack.”
He winced again, still struggling for air more than he cared to show. The tightness intensified, and Will felt his heart thud painfully in his chest cavity. “Maybe still having one,” he admitted.
Jay’s expression nearly broke. “Will--”
Will ignored him, starting to get to his feet regardless of, well, anything else. “Just help me -- help me get up.”
Jay made a small noise that showed his clear disagreement with this course of action, but Will was already clambering to his feet, leaning into his brother’s support as he pushed his way through a wave of dizziness to get upright. The pressure in his chest blossomed anew, and he fought back the urge to vomit. He was sweating again -- he could feel it, at the small of his back and across his front -- and he focused on small, hard breaths out through his mouth. “I just need to catch my breath,” he muttered.
Jay stood close, keeping himself a steadying force with one hand still on Will’s arm. “You need to go to the hospital.”
Will shook his head. “No, I’m fine--”
“No, you’re not,” Jay said, hissing harshly now. “You don’t look right. You don’t sound right. And I’m sure as hell not messing around with this. We call the ambulance.”
This was spiraling out of control faster than Will could keep up. Although he still felt a little woozy, he pulled away from his brother to stand on his own two feet. “No, look -- there’s no need for an ambulance,” he said. “I’m fine. I’m conscious. I’m ambulatory. I just need to get home and take a drink, lie down for a little bit, eat something.”
Jay clearly wasn’t buying. “This isn’t dehydration--”
“And you would know?” Will retorted.
But Jay’s eyes were like flint. “I saw you. I was right here when you went down. There’s no way I’m just letting you go home. None.”
Will assessed his brother’s position, and quickly deduced that there was no way he was getting him to budge. Will had let this get out of hand, and he’d freaked his brother out. There was no simple way to rectify that except to play a little bit by Jay’s rules. “Fine,” he relented. “You can drive me to the hospital.”
It was more of a concession than Will wanted to make, but he sensed just how precarious his situation was here. Still woozy and lightheaded, Will’s heart felt ready to beat out of his chest. He was nowhere near steady enough to walk out of this gym by himself -- much less drive himself home. Jay was never going to consent to playing nursemaid at this point, not without getting cleared by a medical professional.
Will wanted to spare himself the indignity of an ambulance ride. A quick check up at the hospital could get him hydrated and calmed, and he would offer plentiful remorseful statements explaining how he would prioritize his own health more. Then, he could walk off with a diagnosis of a panic attack and exhaustion and call it a day.
Jay would be incorrigible about all of it, but at least it would be better than having Jay make an official call.
Jay was making his own assessments of Will’s offer. No doubt his brother still wanted the ambulance, but he also didn’t seem to like the idea of doing it against Will’s wishes. Will could make this easy or hard, and Jay didn’t enjoy beating his head against a brick wall for no reason.
He was waffling, but his brotherly concern was stronger than Will had anticipated. “I don’t know,” he hedged.
“Jay, seriously,” Will said, keeping his voice as plain and even as he could. “Ambulances are expensive and time consuming, and if I’m stable, then I shouldn’t be wasting services intended for real emergencies.”
This final plea was the practical one, the one that appealed to the civil servants in both of them. It was just enough to tip the scales. “Fine,” Jay said. He lifted a finger and pointed it at Will. “But I am driving you there and checking you into the ED myself, you understand?”
Will held up his hands in acceptance. “I understand.”
“Good,” Jay growled, and he reached out for Will again. “Then, let’s get this thing going.”
For this much, Will knew better than to argue.
-o-
Admittedly, trying to walk to the car without falling over was a bigger challenge that Will had fully anticipated. Whatever had sparked his symptoms had not fully abated, and he appreciated the full extent of a panic attack for the first time in his life. Sure, he’d seen people go through them before, but experiencing it -- the crushing pressure in his chest, the inability to take a deep breath -- made him second guess how well he’d treated patients in this state in the past.
His bedside manner was a secondary concern, however. His main concern was first and foremost: not passing out. After that, he was contending with the reality that he was freaking his brother out.
Jay was pretty hard to freak out in a lot of ways. As a soldier and a cop, Jay had seen things that Will hadn’t. He’d done things that Will couldn’t even imagine. He was trained for combat, and his skills as a first responder made him one of the most impressive cops in the city -- not that Will was biased or anything.
But Will knew Jay, and that was the problem here. He knew his brother’s tells. The way he held onto Will’s arm the whole way out of the gym. The way he opened his door when they got to the car. Hell, his brother actually helped him get his seat belt buckled before he started the car, and he watched Will breathe more than he did the road.
Jay was scared, plain and simple. He was a tough guy, through and through, but he wasn’t impenetrable. He’d been their mom’s rock during cancer. He’d made the hard calls with their dad. The last thing Jay deserved was this. Another family member in distress.
Losing Mom had been hard. Jay still carried resentments about Will not being there for the hardest parts. Seeing Dad slip away had threatened to break him, and Jay had nearly turned his career upside down in a quest to assuage his guilt and doubt.
Will couldn’t be the next one on that list.
The thought of doing that to his brother -- now.
Of course, if he wasn’t still suffering from shortness of breath and chest pains, it would be a little easier. Still, as it was, Will kept himself upright and talking the whole way in. Every time Jay looked to see if he was okay, Will forced a confident smile, and then reminded his brother to keep his eyes on the road or they’d both end up dead.
Will was so focused on not keeling over that he didn’t fully appreciate what he had agreed to until they pulled up outside the emergency entrance to the hospital. In theory, going to the ED made a lot of sense when you were suffering from symptoms like Will was.
However, this wasn’t just any ED.
It was his ED.
Will worked here. He knew every nurse, doctor and tech.
The second he walked in there with any hint of palpitations?
Well, he wasn’t going to get out of it very easily. They took heart symptoms very seriously -- and with good reason. It didn’t take much for someone to die unexpectedly from a MI. Will had done more than his share of cardiac workups, and he’d both saved and lost patients suffering from heart attacks. So, he got it.
But they had to understand.
He wasn’t having a heart attack.
There was just no way he could be having a heart attack.
Convincing Jay was hard enough.
Convincing his colleagues?
Will was starting to wonder if he should have insisted on a beeline to East Mercy instead. At any rate, it was too late to question it. Jay had parked the car in the emergency loading zone, and Will was so slow in getting out that Jay had circled around to help him.
This was embarrassing, and Will tried to put him off. So determined as he was, Jay all but ignored him, gingerly helping Will step by step to the ED entrance. It was humiliating to say the least, having his brother usher him ceremoniously up to the check in desk. A woman named Lydia was on duty today, and her eyes widened when she saw him.
“Oh, Dr. Halstead!” she exclaimed, looking both concerned and confused. “Did you forget your badge? Because I can get security to clear you--”
Will was about to apologize to her for the dramatic inconvenience, but Jay beat him to it -- with an even more dramatic inconvenience. “He’s not here for work,” he said abruptly, still holding onto Will’s elbow. “He’s having chest pains, shortness of breath--”
“Well, we were playing basketball,” Will tried to contextualize.
Lydia looked from Jay to Will with wide eyes.
“And he passed out,” Jay said. “He’s still winded. See?”
Will made every effort to smile, but the look on Lydia’s face deepened to obvious distress. “Let’s get you inside, Dr. Halstead,” she said, reaching for her phone.
“No,” Will said. He gestured back behind him as best he could with Jay hovering next to him. “There are all these people still waiting--”
Lydia looked dismayed. “But heart attack symptoms--”
Will flushed, and Jay’s fingers tightened on his arm. “I’m not having a heart attack,” Will said as quickly as he could.
“Just get him into a room,” Jay said, his voice barely in check.
Will felt ridiculous, but he was pretty sure he was going to feel more ridiculous if he continued to sit with Jay in this waiting room, making a very public scene. In this context, ready acquiescence really was his only option here.
Lydia had already buzzed them in, talking in hushed tones over the phone, undoubtedly to Maggie. Which meant--
Sure enough, as soon as they got through the doors, Maggie was there to meet him with her phone in one hand and a wide-eyed expression of concern on her face. “Will?”
Will wanted to assuage her doubts, but Jay’s vice grip on his arm wasn’t doing him any favors. “I’m fine, Maggie.”
Maggie came along his other side, taking his other arm. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Will said. “Jay’s just overreacting.”
“I’m not,” Jay said, and he worked with Maggie to guide him through the ED doors. “We were playing basketball this morning, and he was off. He just wasn’t right.”
“I was tired,” Will said, hoping the air of exasperation in his voice would be convincing enough. “I’ve been pulling long hours--”
“He had chest pains,” Jay said over him, looking directly across him to Maggie.
Maggie’s eyes were back on Will, even wider than before. “Will?”
Will shook his head, hoping to be dismissive. “Maggie, you know how many hours I’ve been on. Between the lack of sleep, the inconsistent meals, and the general anxiety of where I’m at right now--”
“And then he passed out,” Jay concluded, playing the trump card that Will would never be able to top.
As expected, Maggie’s jaw hardened. She looked ahead, nodding toward one of the rooms. “I want you in exam 2, okay? Right now with you.”
They were already walking that way, Will flanked on both sides, but he still mounted his protest out of principle for just how over the top this was. “Maggie, please--”
“Uh uh,” she said, fingers a little tighter on his arm now. “Don’t try to fight me. You know I could take you down at your best, and Jay’s right. You look like hell right now.”
Fortunately, it wasn’t a long walk to exam 2.
Unfortunately, it was long enough. Will felt sick again as they approached, and it was made worse by the fact that literally everyone on duty could see him. Maybe the fast trip on the gurney would have been a better route. The prying eyes were almost more than he could bear. He’d been living with their looks for six months now. What would the rumor mill come up with for his latest mishap?
“Crockett, you’re up,” Maggie called. “Bring Anna with you. Doris, too.”
“Just Anna,” Will said.
Maggie gave him a look, but Crockett had already crossed over to them. He, too, looked concerned. Apparently, being a little pale and sweaty was a thing this morning.
“Will? I thought that was you,” he said, conversationally enough as he fell in step beside them. “You’re looking a little peaky, there. Anna, do we have a chair for our boy here?”
Will immediately protested. Anna, a petite dark-haired nurse, was turning to get one, but Will adamantly shook his head. “I’ll be fine,” he said. He looked back to Crockett. “It’s a short walk to exam 2.”
“You got him?” Maggie asked, looking to Crockett.
“I got him,” Crockett said with his trademark confidence.
Maggie let go and glared at Will. “Listen to Crockett,” she said. “Or I swear to you--”
Will rolled his eyes, and Crockett smiled politely. “I’m sure Will is going to be the model patient,” he said, moving in next to Will where Maggie had vacated. “Anna, go ahead and prep the room.”
Anna squeezed ahead of them, but they were only a step behind as they got into exam 2. At this point, Jay had gone painfully silent, and Crockett was giving them both a thorough once over, surely trying to assess what he was dealing with here.
“Just let me know if you’re struggling,” he said. He didn’t take up Will’s other arm, which was a small grace. Instead, Crockett entered the room ahead of them, leading the way and trusting Will -- with Jay right at his side -- to follow.
Despite his insistence, the walk wasn’t as easy as Will would have liked to pretend. Although he felt better than he had back at the gym, he felt a far cry from normal. He’d been under the weather all week, but it seemed to be getting the better of him now.
The last thing he needed was to admit that, however.
Instead, he focused on one foot in front of the other. When they got to exam 2, Jay didn’t let go, guiding Will all the way to the gurney. Will felt ludicrous, being guided around like a small child, and he felt a wave of relief when he was finally seated and Jay was able to step away.
A little, anyway.
Jay still hovered.
“Okay,” Crockett said, bringing the exam room to life to run the trauma. “I know this is awkward, Will, but we’re going to cut your shirt off for now.”
“Not necessary,” Will said.
“Will, you know how this works,” Crockett said. Anna had already produced a trauma kit, unwrapping the scissors.
“Yeah, I do,” Will said, chuckling dryly. He reached down, pulling his shirt up and over his head. The fact that it hurt -- the fact that it made him struggle for air -- was notwithstanding. He wasn’t on the monitors yet. No one would ever know, and all he had to do was calm down. He handed the shirt to Jay, who accepted it reluctantly. “See?”
He supposed he was trying to prove some kind of point. Jay looked unimpressed by it. Crockett maintained an air of professional indifference. “Great,” he said instead, moving around Will. With a gentle push, he encouraged Will further onto the gurney’s surface. “Now, lie down for me--”
“Crockett--”
“Will, we’re going to need to examine you fully,” he said. “I missed the start of the story, but I heard that there was talk of chest pains--”
Will’s patience for this exercise was eroding by the minute. “Minor pains,” he said. “Stress or exercise--”
“Where were you?” Crockett asked.
Jay interjected. “Basketball. We meet at the gym, play one on one. He wasn’t able to hold his own today, and I’m not that good.”
Crockett nodded along with the story, and looked to Will again. “When did the pains start?”
Will sighed, feeling even more exasperated. The anxiety felt like it was coiled in his chest now, so dense that it hurt to take a breath. “I don’t know; it’s hard to say. They’re minor, coming and going for a few days now.”
“And when you say pains,” Crockett said. “Are we talking like muscle spasms? Or like your chest is tight?”
“I don’t know -- a little of both,” Will admitted, wishing he could provide more clarity to prove his case. “But I’ve been working crazy hours lately. Not enough sleep, high stress environment -- the aches and pains come with the territory.”
“But tell him about the shortness of breath--” Jay said, nodding at Will anxiously.
Crockett raised his eyebrows.
“A little, maybe,” Will barely acknowledged.
“You were so winded and sweaty, you actually passed out,” Jay said.
Will shook his head quickly to contradict him. “I was barely out,” he said. “Like I said, I’m working too much. Sleeping too little. Eating crappy meals. I’ve had indigestion for days now -- this is all much ado about nothing, Crockett. I promise.”
“Well, we will determine that shortly,” Crockett agreed. “After you’ve laid down so we can monitor you. You know this is standard procedure.”
It was standard procedure, and Will did know it.
“Come on,” Crockett cajoled. “Just let us get started. Let Anna start the IV, get you on the oxygen clip, monitors--”
“Okay,” Will said, easing himself back against the gurney. It wasn’t fully reclined, which was good, but Will still felt unusually exposed in the supine position. “I know you have a job to do.”
Crockett smiled amiably. “Thank you,” he said. Then, to Anna. “Get the IV going, please. Saline.”
Anna murmured her agreement, and Crockett reached for another set of tools from the trauma tray.
While the nurse unfurled his arm, tying it off to get a vein for an IV, Crockett busied himself on Will’s other side. The nurse was tapping the vein, and Crockett clipped an oxygen monitor to his index finger. While the nurse got the needle in place, Crockett was measuring Will’s blood pressure. The IV flow was confirmed, and the monitors went live, and Will knew the trauma would transition to the next phase.
That was just how it was, after all. After an initial visual assessment and rough history, baseline vitals were established to start preliminary treatment. Now that he was fully hooked up, Will knew that the first line of vitals was starting to come through.
He glanced at Crockett, trying to get a read on the trauma surgeon’s assessment. Crockett had a better poker face than Will anticipated. “So?” he asked instead. “How bad?”
Crockett made a little face, but he didn’t obfuscate. “190/110,” he said.
“Okay,” Will said, craning his neck back to see the monitors for himself. He had asked how bad it was, but he had honestly been expecting better. “I mean, that’s borderline--”
“That’s high, Will,” Crockett said before he could finish. He was readily hooking up the EKG monitors to his chest. “High enough for us to be a little concerned about things right now.”
Crockett had an exemplary bedside manner with his laid back New Orleans accent and gentle treatment style. He and Will had never worked closely together before, and their minor run-ins regarding Natalie had hardly endeared them to one another. Will didn’t hold a grudge on that one, though. If anything, he knew that Crockett had gotten the short end of the stick there -- and without cause.
Will had gotten what he deserved.
And this -- Will didn’t even know what this was.
Crockett was a good doctor and a good person, and Will shouldn’t have had any issue with that.
Except that the other doctor was standing there, telling him that--
No, he wasn’t.
That wasn’t happening.
A cause for concern was one thing. It was a symptom, not a diagnosis.
“Fine,” Will said stubbornly. He pointed to the monitors. “Then, let’s get the test going. See what we got.”
It wasn’t flippancy, but it wasn’t exactly confidence either. It was more that Will knew that the longer he drew this assessment out, the longer it was until he could get back to real things in his life. Jay would never let him go home without a clean bill of health, and at this point, he wasn’t getting out of Med until he satisfied the bare minimum of tests involved for his symptoms.
Will was playing by the rules these days.
So it was time to play.
Crockett smiled at him, pressing a few buttons to create a live feed. The EKG monitor started beeping away, and Crockett busied himself adjusting a few more of the monitor settings. At the first reported value, Crockett kept his expression neutral, and Will watched anxiously until more readings came out.
“So?” he asked.
Crockett sighed, turning the monitor toward him and pointing to it. “I was waiting to see if it was a fluke, but it doesn’t look that way I’m afraid,” he said, tapping the screen. “You’ve got a whole line of ST elevations.”
Will leaned forward, feeling momentarily gobsmacked. He stared at the screen, willing it to change, but the next readout was the same as the first few.
“Could be a stress reaction,” Will said.
From the side, Jay stepped forward. He looked at the screen and then to Will. “What? What are we looking at?”
Crockett rocked his head a little, as though he didn’t want to openly contradict Will. “It’s not likely--”
Will blew out a breath and shook his head, ignoring Jay entirely for the moment. “No--”
Crockett didn’t want to contradict Will, but it was pretty clear he would. “Will, come on. These readings--”
Will drew back, crossing his arms over his chest and pretending like it didn’t hurt. “No. No way.”
Crocket offered him a sympathetic smile. “I wish I could say it wasn’t, but look at the ST elevations,” he said, pointing to the screen again. “I mean, it’s a pretty classic presentation.”
Jay stepped even closer, interjecting himself more forcefully this time. “A classic presentation of what?” he asked, looking bewildered between Will and Crockett. “What are we looking at here?”
This time, Will couldn’t bring himself to look at anything. The tension squeezed tightly across his chest, and he resisted the urge to massage his aching shoulder. He flushed hot and cold simultaneously, and his mouth was suddenly too dry to form words.
Crockett, being the good doctor that he was, noticed. He answered the question on Will’s behalf, like Will was just like any other shell-shocked patient in the face of a bad diagnosis.
“The EKG measures the way the heart works,” Crockett explained kindly for Jay. “We’re able to see if the heart is in normal rhythm or if there is something strange going on. Right here, these raised lines? Show ST elevations. They show that the heart function is operating well off the baseline.”
The explanation was thorough, and Will felt too tight to speak. He knew every word of it, but this time it was about him, his heart. None of it computed, and he could feel his heart rate rise, and he watched the lines spike slightly on the monitor with a self conscious pang while his blood pressure tipped up as well.
Jay, however, shook his head, fixated on Crockett. The fact that he was still at a loss was starting to visibly grate at him. “So?”
“So,” Crockett said, slowly and carefully with a long look at Will. If he was waiting for input, Will couldn’t bring himself to provide it now as his heart beated painfully in his chest. “This kind of movement is strongly indicative of a heart attack.”
Jay blinked at Crockett. “A heart attack?”
“It’s just one variable,” Will said, interjecting the argument with a fit of desperation. His chest felt tight again, like it had all week. He didn’t want to think about it. In futility, he shook his head. “It doesn’t mean--”
Crockett drew a breath and looked back at Will with some regret. “Will, I know this must be really hard -- I can’t even imagine -- but if you read this on any other patient, you would come to the exact same conclusion.”
“But we need to do a full cardiac workup--”
Crockett nodded along in total agreement. “And we will,” he said. “But we can’t ignore the obvious here. I’ve already got cardio on their way down, but we need to start treating this now.”
“Crockett--”
Nice and amiable as Crockett was, he was no pushover. “Whatever the cause, we need to get your blood pressure under control and boost your O2 levels. I’d also like to get some cardiac meds started to even out the arrhythmias, and we’ll work up the other tests and see what comes.”
In Will’s mind, the differential was still broad, but Crockett was right. Whatever the underlying cause, the symptoms needed to be addressed -- and could be addressed. Whether or not this was much ado about nothing, it would be irresponsible to not at least try getting his vitals in check.
“Fine,” he said, relinquishing his arguments for now. “We’ll treat the symptoms.”
Crockett looked pleased, and he tapped his tablet with his hand. “Great,” he said. “We’ll get another blood draw, and I’ll get you scheduled for a few tests, okay?”
“Okay,” Will agreed. He sighed, feeling just a tinge sheepish. “Thanks, Crockett.”
“I’d say any time, but let’s hope not,” Crockett joked on his way to the door. He nodded to Jay. “If there’s anything you need.”
Crockett cleaned his hands, closing the door behind him, and Will sank back against the pillows in exhaustion. He was more tired than he’d realized. The burst of adrenaline from checking into his own hospital had reached its pinnacle. Now that it was abating, the pressure in his chest was building again, palms sweating. He could feel the palpitations even before they registered on the monitor.
Closing his eyes, Will tried to breathe through it. Anxiety was a mental problem with physical manifestation. He’d seen it countless times. What would Dr. Charles say to him right now?
Knowing his luck, Dr. Charles would be the next to check on him. As a matter of friendliness, no doubt. And Will would be subjected to a full cardiac workup and a psychological profile.
Opening his eyes again, he turned to Jay. He was about to say something snarkily encouraging about the process, but then he saw his brother’s face.
Jay looked freaked.
Pale, drawn and wide-eyed, it seemed like his brother should be the one in the hospital bed, not him.
“A heart attack?” Jay asked.
In retrospect, Jay was probably entitled a little freak out. It sounded scary, and Will had never really thought much about how much a doctor could dictate with a speculative diagnosis before running the full differential.
“A suspected heart attack,” Will clarified, trying to sit up once more. He still felt diaphoretic, but if he could keep himself from being out of breath too much and have a conversation, he might be able to allay Jay’s fears.
Might.
There was no guarantee.
After all, Jay’s face showed now signs of buying that. “I saw you go down at basketball, man. You couldn’t breathe; your chest hurt--”
Will could not help but feel exasperated, even if what Jay was saying was technically true. “Which are both symptoms of countless conditions--”
“And now these ST things?” Jay pressed.
Will sighed, wishing his brother hadn’t picked up on that one. “They have to run more tests in order to put those readings in any kind of context.”
Will’s answer was entirely reasonable, but Jay seemed intent on playing devil’s advocate for the time being. “Why are you pretending like this isn’t a thing? Dad literally had a heart attack right in front of you. You’re the one who dragged him in to see a cardiologist.”
“Dad was old,” Will protested. He tried to flit his hands through the air, but the oxygen clip on his finger made that less poignant. “He had poor diet and no exercise--”
“And heart disease,” Jay insisted. “A condition you said was probably made worse by genetic factors.”
Will’s jaw tensed. Of all the things for his brother to listen to. Jay had a habit of ignoring doctors at every turn, but that point he found salient. “Jay, we don’t know what this is.”
Jay was digging in his heels now, classic Halstead stubbornness. “Or we do know, and you just don’t want to admit it.”
“Oh, and you’re the doctor here?” Will asked, wishing he could make a more effective case. The whole hospital gown was undercutting his credibility here.
“No, you are,” Jay snapped. He sat back sullenly, arms over his chest. “So I’m not sure why the hell you aren’t acting like one?”
That one hit, closer than Will wanted to admit. He was used to hospitals; they didn’t freak him out. He didn’t care about tubes or needles. At least, not when he was the doctor. Ordering tests was fine when he was the one in charge. Inserting needles and tubes -- totally normal when he was the doctor.
But to be a patient. To have his control stripped away. To be made vulnerable like this.
It was more than hard.
It was the feeling he’d fought so hard against all his life. He’d grown up having to prove himself. His old man had never thought he was good enough. He was always the butt of every joke at school. When other kids had parents visiting them at college, Will had been forced to do it alone. Of course he partied hard. There was nothing waiting for him at home except disapproval and disappointment. You did get through medical school on that.
A lot had changed, but here Will was. Vulnerable as ever.
Only this time, flat on his ass and hooked up to an IV, there was nowhere to run.
He shifted uncomfortably on the bed and shook his head. “Look, we won’t know anything until the cardio assessment is complete. So, let’s just wait and see, okay?”
Jay sat back sullenly.
This was not how today was supposed to go. This was not how any of it was supposed to go. Will was supposed to be getting things back on the straight and narrow. Will was supposed to be growing up. Will was supposed to be stepping up -- at the hospital and with his brother.
And with one minor episode of syncope, he’d managed to thwart all his effort on both fronts.
“In fact, you really don’t even have to stay,” Will suggested. “I mean, you’re supposed to be at work by now, right? Won’t Voight be worried?”
Jay glared at him, suggesting that Will had taken the wrong tact here. “Heart attack, Will.”
“Potential heart attack,” Will corrected again. “You should at least call in.”
Jay breathed out hard through his nose, getting to his feet. “Fine,” he said. “I’m going to be right outside, so I swear to God--”
Will held up his hands. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jay didn’t look wholly convinced as he got his phone out of his pocket.
“Seriously,” Will said. “I’m a patient in my own ED. Where do you think I could go?”
Jay accepted that, though he didn’t seem thrilled about it.
That was fine, Will conceded as Jay stepped out into the hall. He looked around the exam room with a long, hard sigh. Now that he was alone, he allowed himself a moment to rub his chest and gasp for air, trying to massage the kink of out of his shoulder.
Jay didn’t have to like this.
Will wasn’t too fond of any of it himself.