Merry Christmas, Doctor Carter

Line of Fire

Mark hustled out to meet the EMTs who were bringing someone in. At first, he didn't see John standing there. Not until he said something.

"Need any help?" John asked, voice nasally. With any luck, Mark would assume it was from being outside.

"Oh. Hey. Uh..." Mark clocked the obvious sadness in his countenance; the puffy red eyes and plugged up nose. He surmised it wasn't a good idea to let him work like this. "Nah, I think I can manage."

"You sure? There's not a whole lot going on right now. Except for this," John motioned his hand towards the gurney.

"Thanks, but I've got it, Carter," he insisted, then turned his attention to the paramedics. "Alright, give me the bullet."

While the three of them headed inside, John followed, even though he didn't need to. He honestly didn't feel up to doing anything, except maybe catching up on charts, but if he could help in some way, shape or form, he'd try.

"Thirty-year-old female found unconscious on the street. Gunshot wound to the shoulder," the EMT, Dwight Zadro, replied while he, his partner, Mark and John wheeled the patient in. "Pulse is one-twenty, BP's at eighty-three systolic. Tried to get her to come to, but nothing worked. No response."

"Let's go to Trauma One," Mark waved Lydia over to help out. "Okay, why don't we–" His orders stopped when he saw somebody already occupied the room. "Oh, man..." he murmured. "What's he still doing here?"

"Still waiting on the death-kit," Chuny answered.

John couldn't swear to it, but he felt he recognised the man, despite the pallor and blood covering his dark-skinned body. He didn't quite know how or why, though. "What happened to him?"

"Bullet to the heart. Bled out quicker than we could give it back."

"Trauma Two it is then," Mark started to head that way when he noticed John was still standing at the foot of the bed. "Carter, you coming?"

Reluctantly, slowly, John stepped back. "Um..." His thought trailed off, lost in a sudden sense of unease he couldn't explain. In the end, he decided to stay. "No, I think I'm gonna hang back here, finish up."

"Is he your patient?"

He turned to the nurse. He honestly couldn't remember. "No?"

Chuny shook her head. Inwardly, she wondered how he even made it out the door this morning.

"Ah, well," John shrugged off a hint of embarrassment. "I can still clean up in here."

"Okay. Just don't let the board get too cluttered."

John gave him a curt nod and looked down, as his eyes scanned the patient's face. He knew he recognised him. It was driving him crazy.

"Type and cross for six, two large-bore IVs, get X-Ray down here for an AP and lateral shot, blood gas, vital, CRX and ECG monitoring, chest tube and a thoracotomy tray just in case," Mark's eyes flitted to a random spot then returned his gaze to Lydia. "Did I forget anything this time?"

Lydia, who was standing above the woman's head, giving her air through an Ambu bag and a mask, replied, "Nope."

One for three, he thought. It was no fault of his own. With John being extra quiet and elsewhere, it had him worried; scatterbrained. Mark glanced up across the room, his sights landing on John. Mark watched him as he examined the body. "Does he seem off to you?"

"Carter?" Lydia stared at him as if wondering why they were discussing this instead of helping the patient. Still, it wasn't the first time they were talking about any kind of personal incidents around patients, conscious or not, so she went with it, shrugging. "I figured it was just Carter being... Carter."