"Clockwatching" (3/?) - Hiatus Fic
TITLE: Clockwatching (3/?)
AUTHOR: mae_vaughan
RATING: PG13
PAIRING: Chase/Cameron
WARNINGS: None.
SUMMARY: "Time is too slow for those who wait; too swift for those who fear; too long for those who grieve; too short for those who rejoice. But for those who love, time is eternity." - Henry Van Dyke
NOTES: I genuinely appreciate all of the love and reviews I've gotten for this so far. I'm glad people enjoying reading, as I'm enjoying writing it. Thanks to enigma731 for beta and for also allowing me to pick her medical brain again for this chapter as well.
PREVIOUS: Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two
Chapter Three
December 24th, 10:44PM
It’s taken every ounce of strength that Cameron has left in order to remain focused and collected during her trek from the surgical lounge on the second floor back to her own safe haven of concrete walls in the basement. Although it’s only been just over four hours since Chase was brought in and her world skidded to a drastic halt, the desperate pain in Cameron’s chest feels as if she’s been fighting back a flood of tears for far longer. Her destination, once again, is the ER locker room and, as she rushes through the door, she’s determined to make it under the cascading waters of a shower before she actually allows herself to cry.
Unlike the last time she escaped to these tiled walls, however, the locker room is now occupied by two young residents and one of her fellow attendings. Cameron forces herself to walk slowly and casually past them, denying them eye contact the entire time. She can feel them watching her, knows that they’re longing to ask how she’s doing and whether or not there’s any news about Chase, but she’s also almost certain that none of them will say a word if she continues to ignore their presence.
Barely breathing now from the heaviness within her chest, Cameron stops at the bench in front of her own locker and achingly peels off the warmth of Chase’s fleece, placing it carefully on the wooden slats of the bench. Determined to display a mask of effortlessness, she begins removing her watch and earrings, as well as the pager from her waistband, and gently lays them on top of Chase’s jacket. She reaches into the breast pocket of her scrub shirt just as casually and pulls out her cell phone along with the folded photo from Chase’s wallet. She pauses momentarily, silently choking back tears as her eyes once again read the date on the back of the snapshot, and it’s an absolute blessing when she finally hears the rest of the room’s occupants leave her to her private agony.
Reluctantly, she places the photo on the bench beside the other items and inhales a slow, deep, ragged breath before taking a few steps across the room to start the water in one of the shower stalls and place a towel on the hook just outside of the curtain. As she allows the water to run in order to heat itself before she steps inside, Cameron returns to her locker and removes her scrub shirt, shoes and socks, leaving her thermal undershirt and scrub pants in place as she turns to spin the dial on her locker. Magically, it opens on the first attempt despite her still-shaking hands and her newfound haste to jump into the shower and release the tears. But as she quickly pulls it open, her world stops yet again at the sight before her eyes. There, hanging sweetly from the top shelf of her locker, is a sprig of mistletoe with a bright red note card tied on by a string of silver ribbon. Eyes welling up with bittersweet tears, Cameron quickly blinks them back again so that she can focus on the shiny silver writing that spells out Chase’s incredibly thoughtful surprise.
You owe me a kiss.
See you when you get home.
Merry Christmas, love.
Cameron audibly chokes on the air in her lungs, no longer able to fight back against the steady waves of heartbreak and tears that are now charging with the power of a tsunami. This man - this wonderful, adorable man - is now lying unconscious three floors above her, and this endearing message may well be the last thing she ever receives from him, the last words he’s ever physically written. The realization is terrifying, and the burden of that coupled with the relief of finally knowing he survived the initial surgery is an utterly unbearable combination of emotions.
In an instant, Cameron turns and sprints to the locker room entrance, turning the deadbolt to ensure that she remains alone, then begins stripping the rest of her clothing away as she runs back toward the now-steaming shower and collapses behind the curtain.
As water cascades down her naked, sobbing form, Allison Cameron finally lets go.
----------------------
11:57PM
If she were at home instead of at the hospital, Cameron knows, the water pelting down on her from the shower head above would have started running cold long ago. But as the steam continues to rise around her in her grief, she realizes that this may be the first and only time she’s ever been truly glad to be showering at work instead of in the comfort of her own apartment. She’s been crying for over an hour now, having flown through the first four stages of grief in a manner that would baffle most psychologists.
Depression reared its ugly head first, causing Cameron to sob uncontrollably until she could hardly breathe any longer. The only thought in her mind had been that of losing Chase and how she wasn’t sure she’d survive another loss of that magnitude. It had lasted nearly thirty minutes, overwhelming in its power, before subsiding just enough to allow anger to take over instead. Grateful that she had locked the door and was assuredly alone, Cameron had screamed at the universe for its cruel nature in trying to take Chase away just as she was finally starting to believe in love again, before quickly refocusing her anger on Chase himself. She had been suddenly furious with him for endangering himself just to try to protect her instead, and she had wanted so badly to kill him herself for putting her through such unnecessary anguish.
Eventually, though, the rage had instantly backtracked into the realm of denial, and Cameron spent a good ten minutes shampooing her hair and convincing herself that there was simply no way anything else could go wrong now. The doctor in her knew better, however, and the peaceful state of denial quickly jumped erratically toward bargaining, where Cameron found herself promising a God she no longer believed in that she would reconsider the idea of faith if only He would keep Chase alive somehow.
After a momentary lapse into denial once again, Cameron now finds herself on the brink of acceptance. As she massages conditioner into her golden locks and soaps down her tired body to remove the physical strains of the day, her mind begins to consider Chase’s strength under pressure and what she imagines he would do if the situation were reversed. She thinks back to that night, just over a year ago, when Chase had comforted her with stories of the ICU and how good doctors managed to maintain control even under the harshest of circumstances. Chase has always been the strong one, even in the earliest days of their working together. Cameron suddenly remembers their first year working side by side under House, both before and after the arrival of Foreman, and how Chase used to fight her tooth and nail about making things too personal with their patients.
She knows this situation is entirely different - Chase is her boyfriend, the probable love of her life, not a random patient under her care - but Cameron still thinks she could benefit from trying to be like more him in intense situations. She used to find herself temporarily mesmerized by his skill during a crisis, watching him as she stood to the side, nearly paralyzed by fear. Chase has always been so quick to react; to take charge in a trauma and think with a clear, level head.
She is certain that he would tell her, yes, things are bad right now, but they’re far from catastrophic. She knows Chase would never give up on her when the worst-case scenario was still nothing more than a looming threat. And she also knows that the least she can do is to pull herself together and become a beacon of hope for his survival. He deserves more than to have his girlfriend considering the end whilst he lies, alive and well, in a recovery bed.
Washing the last of the soap from her hair and body, Cameron becomes resolute in her newfound optimism as she turns off the water and grabs the towel from the hook just outside. Wringing out her hair before wrapping the towel around her body, Cameron steps out of the shower stall and heads out toward her locker to redress quickly, intent on getting back upstairs as soon as possible.
-------------------------
December 25th - Christmas Day
12:23AM
Cameron rides the elevator back up to the ICU with a small smile on her lips and a new sense of peace in her heart. Dressed in clean scrubs (and Chase’s navy fleece, of course), with her wet hair pulled back into a tight bun, she thrills at the realization that it’s been two hours now since Chase was taken to recovery, and there hasn’t been a single warning sign of anything going wrong. Her beeper has been gloriously silent the entire time she’s been away, and Cameron’s now determined to move forward with the optimistic, Chase-like attitude she accepted as necessary before leaving her fortress of shower solitude. All she can think of, now, is getting to Chase and holding down a hopeful vigil of strength.
He’s alive, and he’s okay. And Cameron feels certain that as long as he continues to remain stable - as long as nothing else drastic swoops in to change the game - she and Chase will both pull through this crisis just fine. Perhaps, she thinks, even stronger than they were before.
As the elevator reaches its final destination and the doors slowly slide open, Cameron takes a deep breath and begins putting one foot in front of the other. Chase is only a few corridors away now, and she has no intention of leaving his side again until the surgical anesthesia wears off and he flashes her that charming smile that she knows he saves specifically for her. Cameron silently promises never to take that smile for granted again, if only she can continue seeing it every single day.
Just as she passes the nurses’ station in the neurology wing, though, her pager begins to shriek for attention. Cameron stops dead in her tracks, heart momentarily skipping a beat, as she fears what the message may say. Slowly, she reaches down to her waistband to tilt the pager for a better look. The code is a 911 from the ICU desk, and Cameron instantly knows in her gut what must have happened. Still, she refuses to believe the worst until she sees it for herself, and suddenly she’s racing down hallways and around corners just like she had been hours before.
Finally rounding the last corner and passing through the entrance to the ICU wing, Cameron can already hear a cardiac monitor screeching from nearly fifty yards away. She stops momentarily, unsure if she actually wants to find out the truth, but breaks into a sprint as soon as she recognizes Cuddy stepping out of the patient’s doorway. Cameron knows now, for sure, that the morbid sounds are coming from Chase’s room.
“Cameron! Whoa!” Cuddy yells after noticing the panicked woman charging down the hallway. “Stop! Wait!”
Cameron finds herself suddenly held back by her boss’ arms, and the adrenaline in her system would have caused her to knock Cuddy flat on the floor in an attempt to get to Chase were it not for the sight of him through the glass walls of his room.
“Charge again! Clear!”
Cameron watches as a doctor she’s vaguely familiar with places the paddles on Chase’s chest, shocking him violently, his unconscious body lifting momentarily from the mattress with the jolt. Her face scrunches in agony at the sights and sounds, and Cameron is only partially aware of Cuddy stepping away until the sound of the sliding glass door closing reaches her ears.
“Don’t!” Cameron shouts desperately. “Leave it open. I know I can’t go in there, but just - I have to know exactly - leave it open.”
Cuddy looks back and forth between Cameron’s panicked, crying form and the chaos on the other side of the glass, but finally nods in hesitation before sliding the door fully open once again.
“He’s still in V-fib,” Foreman yells, staring at the monitors, and it’s the first time Cameron even notices that he’s there. She feels a momentary flash of relief that at least someone she knows and trusts is in the room, making sure Chase receives the best, but her mind returns to terrified dread as soon as Foreman reminds the team how long it’s been.
“Seven minutes?” she cries out to Cuddy in horrified despair. “He’s already been down for - he can’t take much more! Do something!”
“Again!” comes another command from within the glass confines, and Cameron can’t seem to look away despite knowing that the sight is slowly tearing her apart. “Clear!”
Cuddy remains silent in response to Cameron’s plea, but moves to stand beside her as they both stare unblinkingly at the nightmare unfolding before them.
“Still nothing,” shouts another of the ICU doctors. “Push another milligram of epi!”
Foreman turns instantly, rushing to grab the necessary syringe and do whatever he can to assist in keeping his colleague alive. Returning to Chase’s bedside, Foreman administers the drug quickly before checking the monitors. “Go again!”
“Charging - Clear!” and, again, the shock causes Chase’s body to rise up in that way she’s seen at least a million times in patients before, but Cameron’s never realized until now just how scary and unnerving the motion actually is.
“Still V-fib,” says one of the nurses, eyeballing Foreman and the lead attending equally.
“It’s been eight minutes, Dr. Foreman. You’re the neurologist here, but you and I both know we’re officially on the brink of permanent brain damage.”
Foreman takes a short moment to glance out the window at Cameron, seeing her tear-streaked face and remembering a time when she had refused to give up on him in his time of need, too. “One more time,” he tells the doctor across from him. “Give him one more shot before we call it.”
The attending nods and commands the nurse to raise the charge. “Clear!” he calls out, then watches the monitor himself, hoping for any reaction. “No change,” he whispers disappointedly, glancing back to Foreman in defeat.
Cameron holds her breath when she sees Foreman slowly let out a sigh before looking up to meet her eyes. And without a word, she knows what he’s thinking. “No!” she screams, moving to the open doorway but not stepping inside. “You try again, Foreman! Try again!”
“It’s been over eight minutes, Cameron. His brain function could be - ”
“Eight minutes is the baseline for possible brain damage! Not a guarantee! You’re the neurologist, so don’t you dare give up on him just because - ” she rambles frantically, stopping mid-sentence when she realizes she’s wasting time by talking. “Just - try again! Now!”
Foreman holds her penetrating gaze for no longer than five seconds before pulling his shoulders back again and nodding to the other doctors in the room. “You heard her. Again.”
And Cameron watches, as the seconds seem to fly by much faster than she’d like, Chase’s body being shocked again and again and again, until finally the ten-minute mark passes and she knows it’s becoming a lost cause. But just as quickly as she thinks it, there’s a noticeable change in the sounds from the heart monitor.
“Wait,” Foreman says, voice suddenly tinged with excitement, “wait - he’s back. Got a pulse.”
Cameron exhales the breath she hasn’t realized she’d been holding in, tears still racing down her cheeks from the fear. Now, though, they’re beginning to fall in relief. He’s still alive. She has maintained hope, and maybe even found a little bit of faith, and she was right to make them keep trying. He’ll wake up now, and she’ll be able to read him the riot act for scaring her so thoroughly.
“Wow,” she hears Cuddy whisper beside her, noticing her wipe a tear from her eye.
“What happened?” Cameron finally questions, although she already knows the answer, and watches carefully as Foreman begins to check Chase’s pupils and run the rest of the neurological exam.
“Septic shock,” Cuddy replies quietly. “I was starting to hope that the antibiotics had gotten ahead of any infection, considering that he’d made it through two hours already, but… it took over almost instantly. They paged me about his temperature, and his dropping BP, but by the time I got here his heart - he was already in arrest.”
Cameron nods slowly, swiping at the tears on her face, and takes a deep breath. “He’s okay, though. He’ll be okay, now. So it’s - it’s okay.”
“You sure found your optimistic side again quickly,” Cuddy laughs lightly in response, and Cameron can’t help but smile a little at how good it feels to be hopeful.
They both go quiet again, turning their attention to Foreman as he finishes up the tests and slowly turns to exit into the hallway where they stand.
“What is it?” Cameron asks after a moment of Foreman simply staring at her, expressionless. The feeling of impending doom starts to stir again in the pit of her stomach, but she tells herself to wait for the answer before making any assumptions.
“Cameron, he - ” Foreman begins, hesitantly. “He isn’t showing any response to pain stimuli. And his pupils are unresponsive to light. He - ”
“No,” she states firmly, already backing away. “No, I don’t - I don’t want to hear it.”
“I’m sorry, Allison. I really am. He’s in a coma.”
AUTHOR: mae_vaughan
RATING: PG13
PAIRING: Chase/Cameron
WARNINGS: None.
SUMMARY: "Time is too slow for those who wait; too swift for those who fear; too long for those who grieve; too short for those who rejoice. But for those who love, time is eternity." - Henry Van Dyke
NOTES: I genuinely appreciate all of the love and reviews I've gotten for this so far. I'm glad people enjoying reading, as I'm enjoying writing it. Thanks to enigma731 for beta and for also allowing me to pick her medical brain again for this chapter as well.
PREVIOUS: Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two
Chapter Three
December 24th, 10:44PM
It’s taken every ounce of strength that Cameron has left in order to remain focused and collected during her trek from the surgical lounge on the second floor back to her own safe haven of concrete walls in the basement. Although it’s only been just over four hours since Chase was brought in and her world skidded to a drastic halt, the desperate pain in Cameron’s chest feels as if she’s been fighting back a flood of tears for far longer. Her destination, once again, is the ER locker room and, as she rushes through the door, she’s determined to make it under the cascading waters of a shower before she actually allows herself to cry.
Unlike the last time she escaped to these tiled walls, however, the locker room is now occupied by two young residents and one of her fellow attendings. Cameron forces herself to walk slowly and casually past them, denying them eye contact the entire time. She can feel them watching her, knows that they’re longing to ask how she’s doing and whether or not there’s any news about Chase, but she’s also almost certain that none of them will say a word if she continues to ignore their presence.
Barely breathing now from the heaviness within her chest, Cameron stops at the bench in front of her own locker and achingly peels off the warmth of Chase’s fleece, placing it carefully on the wooden slats of the bench. Determined to display a mask of effortlessness, she begins removing her watch and earrings, as well as the pager from her waistband, and gently lays them on top of Chase’s jacket. She reaches into the breast pocket of her scrub shirt just as casually and pulls out her cell phone along with the folded photo from Chase’s wallet. She pauses momentarily, silently choking back tears as her eyes once again read the date on the back of the snapshot, and it’s an absolute blessing when she finally hears the rest of the room’s occupants leave her to her private agony.
Reluctantly, she places the photo on the bench beside the other items and inhales a slow, deep, ragged breath before taking a few steps across the room to start the water in one of the shower stalls and place a towel on the hook just outside of the curtain. As she allows the water to run in order to heat itself before she steps inside, Cameron returns to her locker and removes her scrub shirt, shoes and socks, leaving her thermal undershirt and scrub pants in place as she turns to spin the dial on her locker. Magically, it opens on the first attempt despite her still-shaking hands and her newfound haste to jump into the shower and release the tears. But as she quickly pulls it open, her world stops yet again at the sight before her eyes. There, hanging sweetly from the top shelf of her locker, is a sprig of mistletoe with a bright red note card tied on by a string of silver ribbon. Eyes welling up with bittersweet tears, Cameron quickly blinks them back again so that she can focus on the shiny silver writing that spells out Chase’s incredibly thoughtful surprise.
You owe me a kiss.
See you when you get home.
Merry Christmas, love.
Cameron audibly chokes on the air in her lungs, no longer able to fight back against the steady waves of heartbreak and tears that are now charging with the power of a tsunami. This man - this wonderful, adorable man - is now lying unconscious three floors above her, and this endearing message may well be the last thing she ever receives from him, the last words he’s ever physically written. The realization is terrifying, and the burden of that coupled with the relief of finally knowing he survived the initial surgery is an utterly unbearable combination of emotions.
In an instant, Cameron turns and sprints to the locker room entrance, turning the deadbolt to ensure that she remains alone, then begins stripping the rest of her clothing away as she runs back toward the now-steaming shower and collapses behind the curtain.
As water cascades down her naked, sobbing form, Allison Cameron finally lets go.
----------------------
11:57PM
If she were at home instead of at the hospital, Cameron knows, the water pelting down on her from the shower head above would have started running cold long ago. But as the steam continues to rise around her in her grief, she realizes that this may be the first and only time she’s ever been truly glad to be showering at work instead of in the comfort of her own apartment. She’s been crying for over an hour now, having flown through the first four stages of grief in a manner that would baffle most psychologists.
Depression reared its ugly head first, causing Cameron to sob uncontrollably until she could hardly breathe any longer. The only thought in her mind had been that of losing Chase and how she wasn’t sure she’d survive another loss of that magnitude. It had lasted nearly thirty minutes, overwhelming in its power, before subsiding just enough to allow anger to take over instead. Grateful that she had locked the door and was assuredly alone, Cameron had screamed at the universe for its cruel nature in trying to take Chase away just as she was finally starting to believe in love again, before quickly refocusing her anger on Chase himself. She had been suddenly furious with him for endangering himself just to try to protect her instead, and she had wanted so badly to kill him herself for putting her through such unnecessary anguish.
Eventually, though, the rage had instantly backtracked into the realm of denial, and Cameron spent a good ten minutes shampooing her hair and convincing herself that there was simply no way anything else could go wrong now. The doctor in her knew better, however, and the peaceful state of denial quickly jumped erratically toward bargaining, where Cameron found herself promising a God she no longer believed in that she would reconsider the idea of faith if only He would keep Chase alive somehow.
After a momentary lapse into denial once again, Cameron now finds herself on the brink of acceptance. As she massages conditioner into her golden locks and soaps down her tired body to remove the physical strains of the day, her mind begins to consider Chase’s strength under pressure and what she imagines he would do if the situation were reversed. She thinks back to that night, just over a year ago, when Chase had comforted her with stories of the ICU and how good doctors managed to maintain control even under the harshest of circumstances. Chase has always been the strong one, even in the earliest days of their working together. Cameron suddenly remembers their first year working side by side under House, both before and after the arrival of Foreman, and how Chase used to fight her tooth and nail about making things too personal with their patients.
She knows this situation is entirely different - Chase is her boyfriend, the probable love of her life, not a random patient under her care - but Cameron still thinks she could benefit from trying to be like more him in intense situations. She used to find herself temporarily mesmerized by his skill during a crisis, watching him as she stood to the side, nearly paralyzed by fear. Chase has always been so quick to react; to take charge in a trauma and think with a clear, level head.
She is certain that he would tell her, yes, things are bad right now, but they’re far from catastrophic. She knows Chase would never give up on her when the worst-case scenario was still nothing more than a looming threat. And she also knows that the least she can do is to pull herself together and become a beacon of hope for his survival. He deserves more than to have his girlfriend considering the end whilst he lies, alive and well, in a recovery bed.
Washing the last of the soap from her hair and body, Cameron becomes resolute in her newfound optimism as she turns off the water and grabs the towel from the hook just outside. Wringing out her hair before wrapping the towel around her body, Cameron steps out of the shower stall and heads out toward her locker to redress quickly, intent on getting back upstairs as soon as possible.
-------------------------
December 25th - Christmas Day
12:23AM
Cameron rides the elevator back up to the ICU with a small smile on her lips and a new sense of peace in her heart. Dressed in clean scrubs (and Chase’s navy fleece, of course), with her wet hair pulled back into a tight bun, she thrills at the realization that it’s been two hours now since Chase was taken to recovery, and there hasn’t been a single warning sign of anything going wrong. Her beeper has been gloriously silent the entire time she’s been away, and Cameron’s now determined to move forward with the optimistic, Chase-like attitude she accepted as necessary before leaving her fortress of shower solitude. All she can think of, now, is getting to Chase and holding down a hopeful vigil of strength.
He’s alive, and he’s okay. And Cameron feels certain that as long as he continues to remain stable - as long as nothing else drastic swoops in to change the game - she and Chase will both pull through this crisis just fine. Perhaps, she thinks, even stronger than they were before.
As the elevator reaches its final destination and the doors slowly slide open, Cameron takes a deep breath and begins putting one foot in front of the other. Chase is only a few corridors away now, and she has no intention of leaving his side again until the surgical anesthesia wears off and he flashes her that charming smile that she knows he saves specifically for her. Cameron silently promises never to take that smile for granted again, if only she can continue seeing it every single day.
Just as she passes the nurses’ station in the neurology wing, though, her pager begins to shriek for attention. Cameron stops dead in her tracks, heart momentarily skipping a beat, as she fears what the message may say. Slowly, she reaches down to her waistband to tilt the pager for a better look. The code is a 911 from the ICU desk, and Cameron instantly knows in her gut what must have happened. Still, she refuses to believe the worst until she sees it for herself, and suddenly she’s racing down hallways and around corners just like she had been hours before.
Finally rounding the last corner and passing through the entrance to the ICU wing, Cameron can already hear a cardiac monitor screeching from nearly fifty yards away. She stops momentarily, unsure if she actually wants to find out the truth, but breaks into a sprint as soon as she recognizes Cuddy stepping out of the patient’s doorway. Cameron knows now, for sure, that the morbid sounds are coming from Chase’s room.
“Cameron! Whoa!” Cuddy yells after noticing the panicked woman charging down the hallway. “Stop! Wait!”
Cameron finds herself suddenly held back by her boss’ arms, and the adrenaline in her system would have caused her to knock Cuddy flat on the floor in an attempt to get to Chase were it not for the sight of him through the glass walls of his room.
“Charge again! Clear!”
Cameron watches as a doctor she’s vaguely familiar with places the paddles on Chase’s chest, shocking him violently, his unconscious body lifting momentarily from the mattress with the jolt. Her face scrunches in agony at the sights and sounds, and Cameron is only partially aware of Cuddy stepping away until the sound of the sliding glass door closing reaches her ears.
“Don’t!” Cameron shouts desperately. “Leave it open. I know I can’t go in there, but just - I have to know exactly - leave it open.”
Cuddy looks back and forth between Cameron’s panicked, crying form and the chaos on the other side of the glass, but finally nods in hesitation before sliding the door fully open once again.
“He’s still in V-fib,” Foreman yells, staring at the monitors, and it’s the first time Cameron even notices that he’s there. She feels a momentary flash of relief that at least someone she knows and trusts is in the room, making sure Chase receives the best, but her mind returns to terrified dread as soon as Foreman reminds the team how long it’s been.
“Seven minutes?” she cries out to Cuddy in horrified despair. “He’s already been down for - he can’t take much more! Do something!”
“Again!” comes another command from within the glass confines, and Cameron can’t seem to look away despite knowing that the sight is slowly tearing her apart. “Clear!”
Cuddy remains silent in response to Cameron’s plea, but moves to stand beside her as they both stare unblinkingly at the nightmare unfolding before them.
“Still nothing,” shouts another of the ICU doctors. “Push another milligram of epi!”
Foreman turns instantly, rushing to grab the necessary syringe and do whatever he can to assist in keeping his colleague alive. Returning to Chase’s bedside, Foreman administers the drug quickly before checking the monitors. “Go again!”
“Charging - Clear!” and, again, the shock causes Chase’s body to rise up in that way she’s seen at least a million times in patients before, but Cameron’s never realized until now just how scary and unnerving the motion actually is.
“Still V-fib,” says one of the nurses, eyeballing Foreman and the lead attending equally.
“It’s been eight minutes, Dr. Foreman. You’re the neurologist here, but you and I both know we’re officially on the brink of permanent brain damage.”
Foreman takes a short moment to glance out the window at Cameron, seeing her tear-streaked face and remembering a time when she had refused to give up on him in his time of need, too. “One more time,” he tells the doctor across from him. “Give him one more shot before we call it.”
The attending nods and commands the nurse to raise the charge. “Clear!” he calls out, then watches the monitor himself, hoping for any reaction. “No change,” he whispers disappointedly, glancing back to Foreman in defeat.
Cameron holds her breath when she sees Foreman slowly let out a sigh before looking up to meet her eyes. And without a word, she knows what he’s thinking. “No!” she screams, moving to the open doorway but not stepping inside. “You try again, Foreman! Try again!”
“It’s been over eight minutes, Cameron. His brain function could be - ”
“Eight minutes is the baseline for possible brain damage! Not a guarantee! You’re the neurologist, so don’t you dare give up on him just because - ” she rambles frantically, stopping mid-sentence when she realizes she’s wasting time by talking. “Just - try again! Now!”
Foreman holds her penetrating gaze for no longer than five seconds before pulling his shoulders back again and nodding to the other doctors in the room. “You heard her. Again.”
And Cameron watches, as the seconds seem to fly by much faster than she’d like, Chase’s body being shocked again and again and again, until finally the ten-minute mark passes and she knows it’s becoming a lost cause. But just as quickly as she thinks it, there’s a noticeable change in the sounds from the heart monitor.
“Wait,” Foreman says, voice suddenly tinged with excitement, “wait - he’s back. Got a pulse.”
Cameron exhales the breath she hasn’t realized she’d been holding in, tears still racing down her cheeks from the fear. Now, though, they’re beginning to fall in relief. He’s still alive. She has maintained hope, and maybe even found a little bit of faith, and she was right to make them keep trying. He’ll wake up now, and she’ll be able to read him the riot act for scaring her so thoroughly.
“Wow,” she hears Cuddy whisper beside her, noticing her wipe a tear from her eye.
“What happened?” Cameron finally questions, although she already knows the answer, and watches carefully as Foreman begins to check Chase’s pupils and run the rest of the neurological exam.
“Septic shock,” Cuddy replies quietly. “I was starting to hope that the antibiotics had gotten ahead of any infection, considering that he’d made it through two hours already, but… it took over almost instantly. They paged me about his temperature, and his dropping BP, but by the time I got here his heart - he was already in arrest.”
Cameron nods slowly, swiping at the tears on her face, and takes a deep breath. “He’s okay, though. He’ll be okay, now. So it’s - it’s okay.”
“You sure found your optimistic side again quickly,” Cuddy laughs lightly in response, and Cameron can’t help but smile a little at how good it feels to be hopeful.
They both go quiet again, turning their attention to Foreman as he finishes up the tests and slowly turns to exit into the hallway where they stand.
“What is it?” Cameron asks after a moment of Foreman simply staring at her, expressionless. The feeling of impending doom starts to stir again in the pit of her stomach, but she tells herself to wait for the answer before making any assumptions.
“Cameron, he - ” Foreman begins, hesitantly. “He isn’t showing any response to pain stimuli. And his pupils are unresponsive to light. He - ”
“No,” she states firmly, already backing away. “No, I don’t - I don’t want to hear it.”
“I’m sorry, Allison. I really am. He’s in a coma.”