(glossary at the end for those who need it)
____________________________________
The next four hours were... chaotic.
____________________________________
"-hy is the FBI here?"
"Special Agent George Davidson, twenty-five-year-old male, GSW to the upper abdomen, no exit wound. Heart rate 138, BP 134 over 86, O2 SATs at ninety-three percent. Went unconscious twice in the ambo, four of morphine given on the move."
"Thanks, Janine. Move him on my count, one, two, three!"
"Bilateral breath sounds, lungs sound a little wet though. Don't intubate yet, get him on the monitors. Bag him, see if we can't push his SATs up."
"Alice, start an I.V. and hang a bag of O-neg on the rapid transfuser until we can get a type-and-cross. Someone get the portable x-ray!"
"There's too much blood, I can't see the bullet..."
"Push five of fentanyl for the pain, is he still awake?"
"Sir? George, can you hear me? Do you know where you are?"
"Can you tell me what year it is? Can you squeeze my fingers?"
"I felt that, I felt him squeeze! George, you're in the hospital, okay? You were shot but it's alright, we're gonna take good care of you."
"Otherwise unresponsive to external stimuli. Pupils are reactive but sluggish, where's that fentanyl?"
"Clear... the bullet is lodged in his spleen, that's a pretty clear picture."
"That explains the extra blood, we should get him up to the OR, let them deal with him."
"We can't move him until he's stabilized."
"Push twelve of enalapril, see if that helps."
"SATs are coming back up, vitals stable."
"Call the OR, tell them we're coming up."
____________________________________
"Who's this?"
"George Davidson, GSW to the side and now there's a nine-millimetre in his spleen."
"Thanks, Callum, we got him from here."
"He's had fentanyl and morphine, it'll be on his chart."
"Thanks. Camille, prep the OR, get the anesthesiologist on standby and page Doctor Beckett."
____________________________________
"George? George!" George opened his eyes to a melodic female voice. The lights were a bright white, blinding. He tried to ask whoever was speaking to him to turn them off, but found something obstructing his mouth. Where was he? Had he been kidnapped?
"George, calm down, okay? I'll be right back, hold on," the woman said, patting the brunette's leg before getting up. As she flitted out the door, George caught a glimpse of fluffy brown hair. He sighed in relief. Unless he was mistaken, the woman was just Captain Puffy. That ruled out kidnapping. A woman wearing a long white coat walked into the room.
"Hi, George, I'm Doctor Beckett. Just a second, I'll get rid of this breathing tube and then we can talk, okay?" She said warmly, looking into the brunette's distressed eyes.
"Mmph," George whimpered as the woman pulled the tube out of the Brit's throat, a little plastic brace coming out with it. George cursed his oversensitive gag reflexes as he heaved. The motion sent a spasm of pain through the side of his body but he ignored it, too busy trying to empty the contents of his stomach somewhere that wasn't all over himself.
"Easy, there. Lie back down," Doctor Beckett warned, handing George a pear-shaped plastic bowl. When he finally finished, he turned back to Puffy and the doctor.
"Whe- Who- I'm- Why?" George had so many questions it was hard to ask them one at a time. He inhaled, starting again with the most important one.
"Where is Dream?"
"Let's not worry about that now, okay? You're safe here," Puffy shut him down.
"Where is 'here'?"
"You're in the hospital, George. You were shot, remember?" Puffy reminded him. His hands migrated to the area just below his ribs as he stared at the large white bandage that wrapped all the way around his torso.
"Don't touch that, it will hurt and you don't want to disrupt the stitches," the doctor cautioned. She shifted her gaze from the brunette to the monitor above him. "Your blood pressure looks a little better... Are you in any pain?" George nodded weakly. The dull ache in his side was beginning to develop into something much worse.
"That's understandable. I'll send a nurse in," Doctor Beckett smiled fondly before closing the sliding door, leaving George and Puffy alone.
"Alright, Davidson. We don't have a lot of time before they drug you up again, so listen closely," Puffy told him. "Dream is gone."
"WHAT?!"
"The gunshots were never meant to hit you. They were meant for dramatic effect, a distraction so that he could make a break for it because he knew. He knew that we would run to help you and forget all about him," Puffy whispered. "It worked, too. What else could I do? I couldn't just let you bleed out in front of me, how brutal is that?"
"Puff- you don't have to justify yourself. Anyone in your position would have done the same thing."
"Well, the committee doesn't feel the same way, and now you're all over the news," Puffy told him, handing him her phone. On the screen were headlines from everywhere and anywhere - America, England and some were in Spanish and Hindu.
____________________________________
OFFICER GEORGE DAVIDSON SHOT - THE DREADED RETURN OF A KILLER?
GEORGE DAVIDSON SHOT DOWN AND KILLED BY THE DREAM KILLER - CAREFUL WHO YOU TRUST
POLICE OFFICER DAVIDSON BRUTALLY MURDERED BY THE DREAM KILLER - STAY INDOORS
DREAM KILLER OUT FOR BLOOD - HOW NOT TO BE FOOLED BY PSYCHOPATH
____________________________________
"We had the fact that you're with the FBI covered up, but holy shit. I'm sorry, I couldn't stop it. Once the news anchors got wind of you with the killer, they started throwing questions at me and the other officers. They let far too much slip and those journalists took what they said and ran with it. Apparently, you're dead now," Puffy gave him a small smile.
"News to me," George raised his eyebrows. "What happens when they figure out I'm not actually dead?"
"They come up with some overdramatized survival story, what did you expect?" Puffy joked. George smiled. It felt foreign, like it hadn't been done in weeks.
"Well, when am I gonna get out of here? We need to find him," George said, getting a little more excited. Puffy met his excitement with a massive dampener.
"You- You're not going anywhere with us, George. You're going home."
"Home?"
"Back to England. Just until you've recovered. Then you can come back, ready to jump right back into it," Puffy watched as the brunette's smile fell.
"But- what?"
"Look, I'm sorry, it wasn't my decision. The Academy doesn't have the capacity to house someone with an injury like yours. Unless you want to be treated like a lab rat, it's the best place for you."
"I- "
"That's the end of it, George. You're going home and nothing that you say can change that," Puffy informed him authoritatively. George let out a sigh, but didn't blame Puffy. He didn't blame anyone, really. It was just a massive, freak accident. It looked like he would be seeing Kate sooner than expected...
__________________________________________________________
Right, to help you out, I'll give you the definitions/lengthened versions of words that you might not know the meaning of
GSW - Gunshot wound
BP - Blood pressure
O2 SATs - Oxygen saturation
Bilateral - Equal, the same.
I.V. - Intravenous line
O-neg - A blood type used in hospitals until a type-and-cross can be done.
Type-and-cross - a test used to determine a patient's blood type.
Enalapril - A medication used to lower blood pressure.
OR - Abbreviation of operating room
Intubation - The placement of a breathing tube in a patient's throat for when they can't protect their airways.
Word count: 1291
Luna xx