Title: Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light Part 2
Title: Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light Part 2
Author: kaitlia777
Author's e-mail/website: kaitlia777@yahoo.com
Fandom: Law & Order UK
Summary: The aftermath of 5x6 Deal.
Type / Pairings: Matt/Alesha
Main characters: Ensemble
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some fairly graphic medical stuff
Spoilers: If it’s aired, then it’s fair game!
Beta: N/A
Disclaimer: Don’t own any of the recognizable character, just taking them out to play!
Author's Notes: I'm pretending anything after 5x06 didn't happen.
As Matt’s surgery stretched on for seemingly endless hours, friends from the department drifted in and out and Caleb eventually had to leave. Both Ronnie and Alesha promised to keep him updated as he left with a pair of uniformed officers.
Time passed and heralded the arrival of several more Devlin siblings. Alesha knew he came from a larger family, but she’d never met any of them before. Maggie was the youngest, born a mere 10 months after Matt. Their mother referred to them as her twins.
Next to arrive at the hospital was Maura, the oldest of the lot, followed closely by Maeve and her husband. Last to arrive was Michael, a few years Matt’s senior and a bit of an odd duck in the family. His features were broader, heavier and he was several inches taller than his little brother.
That was how he referred to Matt. As soon as he’d entered the room, he’d demanded someone tell him what had happened to his little brother.
When a loved one joined the police service, there was always the possibility of having them hurt in the line of duty. It was a worry that niggled at the back of the mind, never completely leaving…but there was always the hope that the call would never come.
Today, that hope had been dashed.
The waiting room was cool, despite all the bodies and Alesha wrapped her arms around herself. The thin scrubs she’d exchanged her bloodstained clothes for did little to stave off the chill.
“My boy thinks very highly of you.” Alesha almost jumped when Mrs. Devlin spoke into the silence, looking across the room at her.
As the words registered, she felt a smile tug at her lips. “I feel the same,” she replied, noting that Ronnie suddenly found the linoleum floor rather amusing.
When Matt recovered, she was certain Ronnie would tease them about this.
After what seemed to be an eternity, a young man emerged from beyond the swinging doors and looked at the group of them. “Devlin family?”
He looked a bit startled when they all rushed him, but quickly composed himself to say, “Matt made it through surgery just fine. We managed to re-inflate his lung and patch the tears in his aorta. Now, he’s going to be kept on a ventilator for a few days to allow his lung to heal with as little stress possible.”
Again, he was rushed, this time caught surprisingly strong hugs from Matt’s mother and sisters. Alesha found herself smiling and embracing Ronnie and Natalie.
Matt had survived.
Agatha Saint had been a nurse for over 25 years, had worked in the Intensive Care Unit of St. Anne’s for the last 10 and had seen just about every injury imaginable come through the hospital doors. When she’d been handed the chart of one DS Matthew Devlin, she read the facts without pause.
The young man (handsome thing, wasn’t he) had been shot twice in the chest (once in the upper left quadrant, right of the nipple, two inches from midline, and again in the upper right quadrant, below the pectoral, three inches from midline). His lung had been punctured and collapsed by one, though he’d been fortunate not to have any ribs shattered. It was a relatively simple injury to repair and he was on a ventilator to assist his breathing while his lung recovered.
Bullet number two, that had been the one that caused some worry. Scans showed the bullet hit Devlin’s aorta twice. Injury to this huge blood vessel is fatal 85 percent of the time. The aorta is shaped like a candy cane, its arch coming out of the top of the heart before curving down. The bullet punctured both the arch of the aorta and a large vein that touches it, making a channel between the two ---- and because pressure is higher in an artery, blood was flowing back into his own vein, preserving it.
The bullet then exited from the descending part of the aorta, leaking blood into the chest, but all in all it was a one in a million shot, dangerous and potentially deadly.
Considering the placement of the injury, Dr. Manos repaired the lower tear by threading a sleeve-like stent up through a leg artery and popping it open, blocking the leak with what's essentially an artificial lining. It took a graft more than half an inch wide and 2 inches long to fit the detective, but it worked, stabilizing him. The upper tear, on a curved portion of the aorta took a second, smaller patch.
Until recently, cardiac surgery required cracking the patient’s chest, a traumatic procedure which left them vulnerable to all kinds of infections and required an extended recovery period. Not that he’d bounce back from this in a matter of days, he was still on the vent, had a tube thorocostomy and a variety of IV meds dripped into his veins, but that was preferable to having ones chest split open.
As was protocol, only two visitors were allowed in to see Mr. Devlin at a time. Not long after he’d arrived from recovery, his mother had been ushered in by a man the staff quickly learned was Ronnie Brooks, Devlin’s partner at the Met, not his father. They sat for a time, talking quietly, occasionally asking questions of the staff, as Mr. Devlin, Mattie, they called him, slept on.
He needed the sleep to heal.
That didn’t keep a number of people from rotating in and out of his room over the next several hours. It was clear he had a large family and was well liked by his colleagues. Normally, visiting hours ended at 8pm and family and friends were asked to leave, but there had been a gentle suggestion from a DCI Chandler that they should look the other way.
Maggie, one of Mattie’s sisters, and Alesha, a lovely young woman from CPS, stayed the night, both sworn to call as soon as he woke, no matter the hour.
“Someone needs to invent a caffeine IV.”
Alesha found nothing wrong with Maggie’s statement as the youngest Devlin stood and stretched. It was after 3am and they’d been watching over Matt, occasionally drifting off in the plastic chairs, but not really getting any rest.
They had downed a lot of coffee though and Maggie wandered off in search of refills.
Left alone with Matt, Alesha looked down at him, still and silent on the bed. The doctors and nurses assured them that he was doing fine, but he still hadn’t woken up, still looked so pale, still had a tube down his throat….
Gently, she reached out, brushing his hair back from his forehead, noting the softness. His skin was warm, not feverish, but alive and that was comforting. “Matt,” she said quietly, not really knowing what to say. After some internal debate, she simply breathed, “Wake up.”
When he didn’t react she slumped a little, allowing herself to lean forward and rest her head on the side of his bed, cheek beside Matt’s hand. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the room, the hiss of the ventilator and the squeak of rubber soled shoes passing in the halls.
A slight tug on her hair startled her and she sat up a bit, noting that her hair had gotten tangled in Matt’s fingers. Before she could reach out to untangle herself, the hand before her flexed, again tugging at her tresses.
Quickly, she looked up, meeting his confused gaze, and smiled.
She’d never been happier to see those baby blue eyes.
TBC….
Comments, pretty please?
Author: kaitlia777
Author's e-mail/website: kaitlia777@yahoo.com
Fandom: Law & Order UK
Summary: The aftermath of 5x6 Deal.
Type / Pairings: Matt/Alesha
Main characters: Ensemble
Rating: PG
Warnings: Some fairly graphic medical stuff
Spoilers: If it’s aired, then it’s fair game!
Beta: N/A
Disclaimer: Don’t own any of the recognizable character, just taking them out to play!
Author's Notes: I'm pretending anything after 5x06 didn't happen.
As Matt’s surgery stretched on for seemingly endless hours, friends from the department drifted in and out and Caleb eventually had to leave. Both Ronnie and Alesha promised to keep him updated as he left with a pair of uniformed officers.
Time passed and heralded the arrival of several more Devlin siblings. Alesha knew he came from a larger family, but she’d never met any of them before. Maggie was the youngest, born a mere 10 months after Matt. Their mother referred to them as her twins.
Next to arrive at the hospital was Maura, the oldest of the lot, followed closely by Maeve and her husband. Last to arrive was Michael, a few years Matt’s senior and a bit of an odd duck in the family. His features were broader, heavier and he was several inches taller than his little brother.
That was how he referred to Matt. As soon as he’d entered the room, he’d demanded someone tell him what had happened to his little brother.
When a loved one joined the police service, there was always the possibility of having them hurt in the line of duty. It was a worry that niggled at the back of the mind, never completely leaving…but there was always the hope that the call would never come.
Today, that hope had been dashed.
The waiting room was cool, despite all the bodies and Alesha wrapped her arms around herself. The thin scrubs she’d exchanged her bloodstained clothes for did little to stave off the chill.
“My boy thinks very highly of you.” Alesha almost jumped when Mrs. Devlin spoke into the silence, looking across the room at her.
As the words registered, she felt a smile tug at her lips. “I feel the same,” she replied, noting that Ronnie suddenly found the linoleum floor rather amusing.
When Matt recovered, she was certain Ronnie would tease them about this.
After what seemed to be an eternity, a young man emerged from beyond the swinging doors and looked at the group of them. “Devlin family?”
He looked a bit startled when they all rushed him, but quickly composed himself to say, “Matt made it through surgery just fine. We managed to re-inflate his lung and patch the tears in his aorta. Now, he’s going to be kept on a ventilator for a few days to allow his lung to heal with as little stress possible.”
Again, he was rushed, this time caught surprisingly strong hugs from Matt’s mother and sisters. Alesha found herself smiling and embracing Ronnie and Natalie.
Matt had survived.
Agatha Saint had been a nurse for over 25 years, had worked in the Intensive Care Unit of St. Anne’s for the last 10 and had seen just about every injury imaginable come through the hospital doors. When she’d been handed the chart of one DS Matthew Devlin, she read the facts without pause.
The young man (handsome thing, wasn’t he) had been shot twice in the chest (once in the upper left quadrant, right of the nipple, two inches from midline, and again in the upper right quadrant, below the pectoral, three inches from midline). His lung had been punctured and collapsed by one, though he’d been fortunate not to have any ribs shattered. It was a relatively simple injury to repair and he was on a ventilator to assist his breathing while his lung recovered.
Bullet number two, that had been the one that caused some worry. Scans showed the bullet hit Devlin’s aorta twice. Injury to this huge blood vessel is fatal 85 percent of the time. The aorta is shaped like a candy cane, its arch coming out of the top of the heart before curving down. The bullet punctured both the arch of the aorta and a large vein that touches it, making a channel between the two ---- and because pressure is higher in an artery, blood was flowing back into his own vein, preserving it.
The bullet then exited from the descending part of the aorta, leaking blood into the chest, but all in all it was a one in a million shot, dangerous and potentially deadly.
Considering the placement of the injury, Dr. Manos repaired the lower tear by threading a sleeve-like stent up through a leg artery and popping it open, blocking the leak with what's essentially an artificial lining. It took a graft more than half an inch wide and 2 inches long to fit the detective, but it worked, stabilizing him. The upper tear, on a curved portion of the aorta took a second, smaller patch.
Until recently, cardiac surgery required cracking the patient’s chest, a traumatic procedure which left them vulnerable to all kinds of infections and required an extended recovery period. Not that he’d bounce back from this in a matter of days, he was still on the vent, had a tube thorocostomy and a variety of IV meds dripped into his veins, but that was preferable to having ones chest split open.
As was protocol, only two visitors were allowed in to see Mr. Devlin at a time. Not long after he’d arrived from recovery, his mother had been ushered in by a man the staff quickly learned was Ronnie Brooks, Devlin’s partner at the Met, not his father. They sat for a time, talking quietly, occasionally asking questions of the staff, as Mr. Devlin, Mattie, they called him, slept on.
He needed the sleep to heal.
That didn’t keep a number of people from rotating in and out of his room over the next several hours. It was clear he had a large family and was well liked by his colleagues. Normally, visiting hours ended at 8pm and family and friends were asked to leave, but there had been a gentle suggestion from a DCI Chandler that they should look the other way.
Maggie, one of Mattie’s sisters, and Alesha, a lovely young woman from CPS, stayed the night, both sworn to call as soon as he woke, no matter the hour.
“Someone needs to invent a caffeine IV.”
Alesha found nothing wrong with Maggie’s statement as the youngest Devlin stood and stretched. It was after 3am and they’d been watching over Matt, occasionally drifting off in the plastic chairs, but not really getting any rest.
They had downed a lot of coffee though and Maggie wandered off in search of refills.
Left alone with Matt, Alesha looked down at him, still and silent on the bed. The doctors and nurses assured them that he was doing fine, but he still hadn’t woken up, still looked so pale, still had a tube down his throat….
Gently, she reached out, brushing his hair back from his forehead, noting the softness. His skin was warm, not feverish, but alive and that was comforting. “Matt,” she said quietly, not really knowing what to say. After some internal debate, she simply breathed, “Wake up.”
When he didn’t react she slumped a little, allowing herself to lean forward and rest her head on the side of his bed, cheek beside Matt’s hand. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the room, the hiss of the ventilator and the squeak of rubber soled shoes passing in the halls.
A slight tug on her hair startled her and she sat up a bit, noting that her hair had gotten tangled in Matt’s fingers. Before she could reach out to untangle herself, the hand before her flexed, again tugging at her tresses.
Quickly, she looked up, meeting his confused gaze, and smiled.
She’d never been happier to see those baby blue eyes.
TBC….
Comments, pretty please?