Chaos Fic- A Better Ending- Part 3
Part 1
Part 2
The hospital appears out of nowhere.
One second, they’re still driving in a swirling mess, the next they’re pulling up in front of the ER, the lighted entrance sign barely penetrating the blowing snow. Rick jumps out of the car and starts running inside before Casey fully has it in park. Before Casey can kill the ignition, Rick’s back, three nurses with a gurney trailing behind him.
Rick opens the back car door and suddenly, hands are everywhere: feeling for a pulse, checking respiration, trying to pull Billy out of the car. All Michael can do is stare down at his own hands, uselessly wrapped around Billy’s shoulders.
Then the hands are back, tugging at Michael’s fingers. “Sir, you need to let go,” someone says in heavily accented English.
But Michael can’t.
They got to the hospital and people are there to help and Billy might have a shot but only if Michael can release him.
But he simply can’t. He doesn’t know if it’s his brain or his frozen fingers causing the problem but as he stares down at Billy’s pale face, he just can’t do it.
“Sir,” he hears again, then the hands pry his fingers loose. And just like that, Billy is gone.
“Come on,” Casey says.
Michael looks up and is surprised to see Casey standing right beside him, holding the car door open for him to climb out.
But Michael’s feet aren’t obeying any better than his hands. Casey reaches down and grasps him under his arm, pulling him up and out of the car. He bolsters Michael up and then wraps an arm around his shoulders. His moves are efficient and practical, yet surprisingly gentle, especially for Casey.
Michael looks over.
Casey frowns. “Don’t get used to it,” he says as he half-carries, half-drags Michael to the ER’s door.
**
The fluorescent light inside is almost blinding, even more so than the snow.
Michael squints and looks around the waiting room and sees a bank of beige plastic chairs partially occupied by a few people looking bored, a TV showing a replay of a local skiing competition, and a small reception desk.
What he doesn’t see is Billy.
Casey continues on, helping Michael toward a set of double doors. And then, he sees him, through the door’s narrow window.
And his heart sinks.
Billy is splayed out on a gurney, his clothes ripped off with his lower half draped in blankets. His body is so pale and lifeless that Michael can’t help but wonder if he’s already dead. At his head, a nurse is squeezing a vent bag and another nurse has a thermometer in his ear. A doctor holds a stethoscope to his chest and listens, then frowns and moves the stethoscope to another spot. Rick is standing at the foot of Billy’s gurney looking completely lost.
Casey moves to stiff-arm the door when a stout nurse steps in front of him. She frowns and says something in Russian. Michael scrunches up his face, trying to understand. Casey seems to have better luck and rattles something off in reply.
The next thing Michael knows, a wheelchair is there and Casey is depositing him into the seat. The double doors open and someone starts to push him inside. Casey moves to go with him but the large nurse blocks his way again. She and Casey engage in another short conversation and the only word Michael catches is “brothers”. But whatever he says seems to work because the nurse lets him pass.
Michael expects to be wheeled to Billy’s bedside-- after all, the wheelchair is just a ruse to get past the nurse-- but he’s surprised when they stop short and he’s pushed into a small area and a curtain is pulled instead.
“What’s… going…” he starts, looking at Casey.
“You’re hypothermic, too,” Casey explains.
Michael shakes his head.
Casey’s wrong. He’s not hypothermic. He’s fine. Actually, now that he’s inside, he’s actually starting to feel a bit warm.
He shakes his head again. “I’m…”
“Staying here,” Casey says firmly, leaning over to look Michael in the eye. “Until the doctor says you’re fine.”
Michael frowns and tries his best to see around Casey but the curtain is blocking his view. He catches a glimpse of Rick’s arm but then a nurse is helping him up on the bed and he can’t see anything anymore. She takes off his coat and Michael remembers for the first time that it’s wet, along with all his other clothes. The nurse starts to unbutton his shirt and he looks down, then back up to Casey, embarrassed.
“Can… you…”
Casey quickly grasps the situation. “Yes,” he replies with a nod. “I’ll check on Billy and come back as soon as I know something.”
**
What the Belarusian nurses lack in looks and bedside manner they make up for with efficiency. Ten minutes later, Michael is stripped down and buried underneath his own stack of blankets with a warm saline IV inserted into the crook of his left arm. One of the nurses walks into the room with four hot water bottles and, over his protests, places one under each armpit and two more somewhere he’d rather them not be. Another nurse sticks a thermometer in his ear for what Michael thinks must be the 100th time. All in all, the nurses are doing everything they can. Except listen to him.
“My… friend…” he says, speaking in his best Russian.
The nurses ignore him. He’s not sure if that’s because they are busy or if his Russian is simply indecipherable through his chattering teeth.
But Michael refuses to be ignored again. His reaches his hand out and grabs the nurse taking his temperature by the arm. “My… brother…” he starts again, urgently.
The nurse shakes off his hand and scowls. She says something abrupt, then is gone. Michael looks over at the other nurse, who is charting something on a file by his feet. “Please…”
She looks up at him, smiles sadly, then clips the chart on the foot of his bed and leaves as well.
Left alone, Michael strains to hear what’s going on with Billy. He can hear Billy’s slow heartbeat on a monitor, hear the whoosh of a ventilator that must now be in place, hear the sounds of the doctors and nurses bustling about him. Casey hasn’t come back but Michael isn’t surprised. Because over the din of the sounds of people trying to save Billy’s life, he can hear Casey singing.
It’s not loud, the song, but it is low and mellow.
Which only scares Michael more.
He reaches out and tries to pull the curtain partitioning off his room to see what’s happening, but the IV tubing won’t allow him to roll over far enough to grasp it. Michael hastily pulls the IV out, ignoring the resulting blood and saline spilling everywhere, and reaches farther. Pins and needles shoot painfully through his shaking hands but he keeps straining until he catches the hem of the fabric. He pulls and the ball bearings roll just enough that the curtain moves.
And Michael can see.
He can see across the ER, where Casey is standing in the corner, singing to himself. He can see Rick standing a few feet away from Casey, soundlessly mouthing words with a tear-stained face. He can see the doctors and nurses trying their best to save Billy’s life.
And he can see Billy, as blue and lifeless as Steven Ellis was when Michael dragged him out of the lake.
And when Billy’s monitors began to wail, Michael can’t see anything at all.
**
When Michael wakes up, Casey is there.
He’s not sure if that should be reassuring or concerning. If Casey’s not with Billy, that means Billy doesn’t need him. And the only way Billy doesn’t need him is if Billy’s either better or dead.
His breath hitches at the thought. “Billy?” he asks.
“He’s alive,” Casey responds drily. “And that was stupid. Having one person down was bad enough and you, making it two, didn’t help. So next time, I’d appreciate it if you spared us the theatrics.”
Michael ignores his remarks. “But the monitors…”
“Rewarming shock,” Casey explains clinically. “It sent him into cardiac arrest, but they eventually got him back.”
Michael’s heart sinks. This can’t be happening.
Not again.
And not to Billy.
“How long was he down?” he asks sharply, his tone sounding harsher than he intended. It’s not that he’s angry with Casey, it’s just that he’s almost afraid to hear the answer.
But Casey understands and simply sighs. “A few minutes. The doctors think the hypothermia will work in his favor and prevent brain damage. That is, if you’re willing to overlook the fact that hypothermia is what caused his heart to stop in the first place. But they think he’s going to be ok.”
“They think?”
Casey shrugs but Michael can see the worry on his face. “It’s hard to tell. He hasn’t woken up yet. But the doctors are optimistic, for what that’s worth.”
Michael looks past Casey, but the curtain has been pulled again. “Can I see him?”
“They’re getting him settled in what passes for the ICU around here. But Rick’s working his magic on one of the nurses. He thinks he can get you a wheelchair so you can take shifts with us. That is, if you’re good in the meantime and stay in bed to finish thawing out.”
Michael sighs, not liking the idea. “Do you know how much longer that’s going to take?”
Casey shakes his head. “Probably not too long-- maybe another few hours. But it’ll go faster if you stop pulling out your IV and taking swan dives off the bed.”
Michael gets the point and moves on. “Ok, then. But I want the first shift.”
**
By the time Rick appears with a wheelchair three hours later, Michael is pretty sure the first shift has already been taken. And the second.
“What happened to calling dibs?” he asks testily as he settles into the seat.
Rick looks apologetic as he loads a few blankets on Michael’s lap. “Sorry about that.”
“So, how is he?”
Rick blanches. “He’s, um… doing better.”
“You’ve got to become a better liar than that, Martinez, especially if you’re trying to lie to me,” Michael scolds simply because he’s worried and frustrated and tired of being out of the loop. “Now, how is Billy?”
Rick sighs as he pushes Michael toward the elevator. “Still out of it. But the doctors think he’ll come around soon.”
“Did Casey get the intel out?” he asks quietly after checking the hall and making sure it’s deserted.
“Yes. And he’s been in contact with Langley so they know what’s going on.”
“And are our covers holding?”
Rick pushes the elevator button. “For now. Casey kind of amended them to get past the nurses. Apparently, we’re all brothers now.”
Michael raises his eyebrows and looks up at Rick incredulously. “And they’re buying that? With four different last names? And a Puerto Rican and a Scot?”
“I didn’t say it made sense. And they don’t know Billy’s a Scot yet so we’re probably ok on that until he wakes up and starts talking. And once he does that, we probably won’t need special access anyway.” Rick shrugs as the elevator arrives and he pushes Michael in. “I had to smooth things over at first, but it seems to be working for now. The, uh, head nurse who blocked your way originally…” Michael watches Rick’s reflection as young operative squirms uncomfortably. “Well, as it turns out, she’s a lot like Doris in counterfeiting,” Rick concludes.
“Huh,” Michael says with a thoughtful uplift of his head. Apparently, Billy wasn’t the only charmer in the group. Maybe he’d sold the kid short after all. “Well, if you can keep that going, Martinez, I’ll amend my previous remarks about your lying skills.”
The elevator opens into the drab grey ICU waiting room where Casey is pacing. He turns when Rick wheels Michael out.
“Any change?” Rick asks.
Casey shakes his head grimly. “The same.”
Rick pushes Michael to Billy’s room, the first one on the left. He stops in front of the closed door and sighs.
“How long can I have?” Michael asks.
“Ten minutes,” Rick replies quietly.
Michael’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s it?”
Rick nods. “Ten minutes every hour.”
“And you can’t work some more puppy dog eyes at the nurse to get us some slack?”
Rick shakes his head as he pushes open Billy’s door. “Vera’s off duty for now, but I’ll see what I can do in the morning.”
And as Michael gets his first glimpse at Billy, he’s not sure morning can come soon enough.
**
Part 4
Part 2
The hospital appears out of nowhere.
One second, they’re still driving in a swirling mess, the next they’re pulling up in front of the ER, the lighted entrance sign barely penetrating the blowing snow. Rick jumps out of the car and starts running inside before Casey fully has it in park. Before Casey can kill the ignition, Rick’s back, three nurses with a gurney trailing behind him.
Rick opens the back car door and suddenly, hands are everywhere: feeling for a pulse, checking respiration, trying to pull Billy out of the car. All Michael can do is stare down at his own hands, uselessly wrapped around Billy’s shoulders.
Then the hands are back, tugging at Michael’s fingers. “Sir, you need to let go,” someone says in heavily accented English.
But Michael can’t.
They got to the hospital and people are there to help and Billy might have a shot but only if Michael can release him.
But he simply can’t. He doesn’t know if it’s his brain or his frozen fingers causing the problem but as he stares down at Billy’s pale face, he just can’t do it.
“Sir,” he hears again, then the hands pry his fingers loose. And just like that, Billy is gone.
“Come on,” Casey says.
Michael looks up and is surprised to see Casey standing right beside him, holding the car door open for him to climb out.
But Michael’s feet aren’t obeying any better than his hands. Casey reaches down and grasps him under his arm, pulling him up and out of the car. He bolsters Michael up and then wraps an arm around his shoulders. His moves are efficient and practical, yet surprisingly gentle, especially for Casey.
Michael looks over.
Casey frowns. “Don’t get used to it,” he says as he half-carries, half-drags Michael to the ER’s door.
**
The fluorescent light inside is almost blinding, even more so than the snow.
Michael squints and looks around the waiting room and sees a bank of beige plastic chairs partially occupied by a few people looking bored, a TV showing a replay of a local skiing competition, and a small reception desk.
What he doesn’t see is Billy.
Casey continues on, helping Michael toward a set of double doors. And then, he sees him, through the door’s narrow window.
And his heart sinks.
Billy is splayed out on a gurney, his clothes ripped off with his lower half draped in blankets. His body is so pale and lifeless that Michael can’t help but wonder if he’s already dead. At his head, a nurse is squeezing a vent bag and another nurse has a thermometer in his ear. A doctor holds a stethoscope to his chest and listens, then frowns and moves the stethoscope to another spot. Rick is standing at the foot of Billy’s gurney looking completely lost.
Casey moves to stiff-arm the door when a stout nurse steps in front of him. She frowns and says something in Russian. Michael scrunches up his face, trying to understand. Casey seems to have better luck and rattles something off in reply.
The next thing Michael knows, a wheelchair is there and Casey is depositing him into the seat. The double doors open and someone starts to push him inside. Casey moves to go with him but the large nurse blocks his way again. She and Casey engage in another short conversation and the only word Michael catches is “brothers”. But whatever he says seems to work because the nurse lets him pass.
Michael expects to be wheeled to Billy’s bedside-- after all, the wheelchair is just a ruse to get past the nurse-- but he’s surprised when they stop short and he’s pushed into a small area and a curtain is pulled instead.
“What’s… going…” he starts, looking at Casey.
“You’re hypothermic, too,” Casey explains.
Michael shakes his head.
Casey’s wrong. He’s not hypothermic. He’s fine. Actually, now that he’s inside, he’s actually starting to feel a bit warm.
He shakes his head again. “I’m…”
“Staying here,” Casey says firmly, leaning over to look Michael in the eye. “Until the doctor says you’re fine.”
Michael frowns and tries his best to see around Casey but the curtain is blocking his view. He catches a glimpse of Rick’s arm but then a nurse is helping him up on the bed and he can’t see anything anymore. She takes off his coat and Michael remembers for the first time that it’s wet, along with all his other clothes. The nurse starts to unbutton his shirt and he looks down, then back up to Casey, embarrassed.
“Can… you…”
Casey quickly grasps the situation. “Yes,” he replies with a nod. “I’ll check on Billy and come back as soon as I know something.”
**
What the Belarusian nurses lack in looks and bedside manner they make up for with efficiency. Ten minutes later, Michael is stripped down and buried underneath his own stack of blankets with a warm saline IV inserted into the crook of his left arm. One of the nurses walks into the room with four hot water bottles and, over his protests, places one under each armpit and two more somewhere he’d rather them not be. Another nurse sticks a thermometer in his ear for what Michael thinks must be the 100th time. All in all, the nurses are doing everything they can. Except listen to him.
“My… friend…” he says, speaking in his best Russian.
The nurses ignore him. He’s not sure if that’s because they are busy or if his Russian is simply indecipherable through his chattering teeth.
But Michael refuses to be ignored again. His reaches his hand out and grabs the nurse taking his temperature by the arm. “My… brother…” he starts again, urgently.
The nurse shakes off his hand and scowls. She says something abrupt, then is gone. Michael looks over at the other nurse, who is charting something on a file by his feet. “Please…”
She looks up at him, smiles sadly, then clips the chart on the foot of his bed and leaves as well.
Left alone, Michael strains to hear what’s going on with Billy. He can hear Billy’s slow heartbeat on a monitor, hear the whoosh of a ventilator that must now be in place, hear the sounds of the doctors and nurses bustling about him. Casey hasn’t come back but Michael isn’t surprised. Because over the din of the sounds of people trying to save Billy’s life, he can hear Casey singing.
It’s not loud, the song, but it is low and mellow.
Which only scares Michael more.
He reaches out and tries to pull the curtain partitioning off his room to see what’s happening, but the IV tubing won’t allow him to roll over far enough to grasp it. Michael hastily pulls the IV out, ignoring the resulting blood and saline spilling everywhere, and reaches farther. Pins and needles shoot painfully through his shaking hands but he keeps straining until he catches the hem of the fabric. He pulls and the ball bearings roll just enough that the curtain moves.
And Michael can see.
He can see across the ER, where Casey is standing in the corner, singing to himself. He can see Rick standing a few feet away from Casey, soundlessly mouthing words with a tear-stained face. He can see the doctors and nurses trying their best to save Billy’s life.
And he can see Billy, as blue and lifeless as Steven Ellis was when Michael dragged him out of the lake.
And when Billy’s monitors began to wail, Michael can’t see anything at all.
**
When Michael wakes up, Casey is there.
He’s not sure if that should be reassuring or concerning. If Casey’s not with Billy, that means Billy doesn’t need him. And the only way Billy doesn’t need him is if Billy’s either better or dead.
His breath hitches at the thought. “Billy?” he asks.
“He’s alive,” Casey responds drily. “And that was stupid. Having one person down was bad enough and you, making it two, didn’t help. So next time, I’d appreciate it if you spared us the theatrics.”
Michael ignores his remarks. “But the monitors…”
“Rewarming shock,” Casey explains clinically. “It sent him into cardiac arrest, but they eventually got him back.”
Michael’s heart sinks. This can’t be happening.
Not again.
And not to Billy.
“How long was he down?” he asks sharply, his tone sounding harsher than he intended. It’s not that he’s angry with Casey, it’s just that he’s almost afraid to hear the answer.
But Casey understands and simply sighs. “A few minutes. The doctors think the hypothermia will work in his favor and prevent brain damage. That is, if you’re willing to overlook the fact that hypothermia is what caused his heart to stop in the first place. But they think he’s going to be ok.”
“They think?”
Casey shrugs but Michael can see the worry on his face. “It’s hard to tell. He hasn’t woken up yet. But the doctors are optimistic, for what that’s worth.”
Michael looks past Casey, but the curtain has been pulled again. “Can I see him?”
“They’re getting him settled in what passes for the ICU around here. But Rick’s working his magic on one of the nurses. He thinks he can get you a wheelchair so you can take shifts with us. That is, if you’re good in the meantime and stay in bed to finish thawing out.”
Michael sighs, not liking the idea. “Do you know how much longer that’s going to take?”
Casey shakes his head. “Probably not too long-- maybe another few hours. But it’ll go faster if you stop pulling out your IV and taking swan dives off the bed.”
Michael gets the point and moves on. “Ok, then. But I want the first shift.”
**
By the time Rick appears with a wheelchair three hours later, Michael is pretty sure the first shift has already been taken. And the second.
“What happened to calling dibs?” he asks testily as he settles into the seat.
Rick looks apologetic as he loads a few blankets on Michael’s lap. “Sorry about that.”
“So, how is he?”
Rick blanches. “He’s, um… doing better.”
“You’ve got to become a better liar than that, Martinez, especially if you’re trying to lie to me,” Michael scolds simply because he’s worried and frustrated and tired of being out of the loop. “Now, how is Billy?”
Rick sighs as he pushes Michael toward the elevator. “Still out of it. But the doctors think he’ll come around soon.”
“Did Casey get the intel out?” he asks quietly after checking the hall and making sure it’s deserted.
“Yes. And he’s been in contact with Langley so they know what’s going on.”
“And are our covers holding?”
Rick pushes the elevator button. “For now. Casey kind of amended them to get past the nurses. Apparently, we’re all brothers now.”
Michael raises his eyebrows and looks up at Rick incredulously. “And they’re buying that? With four different last names? And a Puerto Rican and a Scot?”
“I didn’t say it made sense. And they don’t know Billy’s a Scot yet so we’re probably ok on that until he wakes up and starts talking. And once he does that, we probably won’t need special access anyway.” Rick shrugs as the elevator arrives and he pushes Michael in. “I had to smooth things over at first, but it seems to be working for now. The, uh, head nurse who blocked your way originally…” Michael watches Rick’s reflection as young operative squirms uncomfortably. “Well, as it turns out, she’s a lot like Doris in counterfeiting,” Rick concludes.
“Huh,” Michael says with a thoughtful uplift of his head. Apparently, Billy wasn’t the only charmer in the group. Maybe he’d sold the kid short after all. “Well, if you can keep that going, Martinez, I’ll amend my previous remarks about your lying skills.”
The elevator opens into the drab grey ICU waiting room where Casey is pacing. He turns when Rick wheels Michael out.
“Any change?” Rick asks.
Casey shakes his head grimly. “The same.”
Rick pushes Michael to Billy’s room, the first one on the left. He stops in front of the closed door and sighs.
“How long can I have?” Michael asks.
“Ten minutes,” Rick replies quietly.
Michael’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s it?”
Rick nods. “Ten minutes every hour.”
“And you can’t work some more puppy dog eyes at the nurse to get us some slack?”
Rick shakes his head as he pushes open Billy’s door. “Vera’s off duty for now, but I’ll see what I can do in the morning.”
And as Michael gets his first glimpse at Billy, he’s not sure morning can come soon enough.
**
Part 4