State of Aberrancy

He glanced sideways, hoping she would catch his glare and give him some space. "Facial lacerations can be bloody, but they often look a lot worse than they really are," the physician educated his eager assistant.

"The face, especially the forehead, is very vascular," she contributed, holding the pile of sterile four by fours with her other hand. "That's really ugly. What's that stuff?" She squinted her brown eyes, peering into the wound.

"Gravel."

"No...that stuff...just above her hairline?" She pointed as closely as she could without contaminating her hands or their contents.

"Gum."

"Oh...right." Her eyes studied the blob. Hoping to be helpful she added (very scientifically), "My guess would be Tootie Fruitie."

Barely managing a handle on his shortening fuse, he threw her a befuddled but professional glare.

Lisa shrugged and nodded. "Children prefer fruit flavored to mint or chocolate flavored candies."

He turned his strong features to the student whose minted breath blew into his and asked, "Do you mind?"

"Oh...no." Lisa blinked into his gray eyes. She blinked some more. "Do I mind...what?"

"I need some room to work!" He smiled sarcastically.

"Oh...right." She moved back...slightly. "Professional space...right."

"Is she gonna be okay?" A worried teenage girl hovered the perimeter of the treatment room while twirling her loose strands of dark hair that had escaped her bun.

"She seems fine but I need to do a full examination...how did she bruise her forehead?" The physician tenderly brushed back the youngster's straight brown bangs and observed the little gash that thankfully, would not need stitches.

"I already told the lady at the desk. She fell off the swing at the park." The older sister--and babysitter--reported loudly over the physician's other shoulder, and then turned angrily into the fearful face of the patient. "I told you to hold on! You didn't listen!"

"You pushed too hard!" The determined younger sister countered as she gritted every one of her twenty white baby teeth. After she finally broke free from Dr. Brackett's examining hands, he slapped them onto his tender knees in defeat.

"I wasn't even pushing you when you fell...you just let go...tryin' to be all big!" The sickening sweet vapor of bubble gum traveled with her words.

"Well, you were talking to your boyfriend..."

"He's not my boyfriend!" She shouted, as her bossy intonation resonated off of the already irritated eardrums of the ailing physician.

"Wait till mom finds out you were talking to your boyf--!"

"He's not--!"

"Okay, okay!" Kel raised his hand to signal silence as he retreated upon the metal stool on which he was seated. The simple push from his legs caused a resounding ache within them. Instinctively, he rubbed them. "Just calm down!" He had been battling mounting flu symptoms for the past few hours and felt ill-prepared to referee the squabbling siblings.

"Now...Tanya is it?" He turned to find himself directly into the teen's face and instinctively leaned back away from it. "What exactly did Melody hit when she fell?"

"The pavement." She chomped.

"No, I meant...how did she land?" He coughed and rubbed his chest.

Tanya snapped a large bubble with a worried nod. "Hard."

Kel put his head down and rubbed his aching temple. "What part of her body hit the pavement?"

"Duh...her head ?!" the teen added smugly, with her palms up--then reconsidered. "Well... she landed sort of...flat."

He turned to the student nurse who was diligently documenting the findings. "Pupils equal and briskly reactive to light."

"Got it!" the student reported proudly.

"Flat?" He continued his assessment and interview.

"Well....I don't know...like, I didn't really see her land.

When I saw her, she was flat--I just heard her...like... scream... and when I turned and saw her ...laying there--I told Jake I had to like... go! He's so...stupid!"

"Did she lose consciousness?"

"I didn't check her pockets, or anything yet."

Yes, God. You have a sense of humor...but I could appreciate this a lot more if I were feeling better. "Did she pass out?"

"Uhh...no."

"Lisa?" Dr. Brackett rolled his eyes--which throbbed with the movement--and looked to the student nurse with his last reserve of patience. "Could you please..." He coughed some more. "Escort Tanya to the waiting area...and see if Nurse McCall--or anybody--is available to assist us?" A wave of nausea passed over him, puzzling the physician who was unable to remember when the flu had ever hit him this fast, this hard.

"Are you okay, Dr. Brackett?"

"Yes...just do as I ask!" He pleaded.

**

Lisa accompanied Tanya to the phone bank, where the perplexed young lady called her mother. Satisfying her first order from the physician, she then returned to the base station to complete her mission. There, she found Dixie helping Dr. Mike Morton with a plea from Squad 51.

"Miss McCall?" the young nurse beckoned, turning Dixie's head.

"Yes, Lisa?"

"Dr. Brackett needs you in Treatment Five."

Dixie seemed a bit bewildered by the request, remembering the minor degree of injuries sustained by the little girl. Maybe Kel decided in favor of a few insurance stitches after all.

"I ...don't think he's feeling very well," the student contributed, to help Dixie sort her priorities.

She glanced at Mike and returned her response to her apprentice. "Lisa, see if Gayle is available. I'm helping Dr. Morton--"

"It's okay Dix." Mike interrupted. "The way Johnny described things, it sounds like Mr. Maddox just forgot to take his Lasix again. I can handle this one."

"You sure? They'll be here any second. You want me to set up Room One?"

"I'll be fine, Dix. Really. Some O2, some Lasix...Otto will be good as new." He addressed her as he backed down the hallway toward the entrance that certainly did report the arrival of their...patient.

Mr. Otto Maddox was sitting bolt upright, waving his wiry toupee and wearing his oxygen mask over his baldhead like a beanie, cursing a blue streak. "Slow the hell down! I don't see a god-dang checkered flag! I'm dying, here!

...and I don't need a...a god-dang police escort to the Pearly Gates!"

"Lisa..." With a nod, the head nurse instructed her underling to follow the resident and assist him. Sticking her pencil behind her ear she headed toward the treatment room to which she had been summoned, casually entertained by the incoming entourage.

Upon scanning the assortment of activity in the hallway, Dixie stopped in her tracks--unnerved by the mysterious appearance of the little four-year-old girl, whom Kel had been treating. She, too, was taking in the spectacle of Mr. Maddox's parade, having exited the treatment room peculiarly unescorted.

"Hey...!" Dixie picked up her pace to a slight trot. "Where do you think you're going, young lady?"

The alarm in the little girl's face was unnatural and beyond curious...almost creepy.

Something's wrong.

Dixie shook it off. Just your imagination, Dix. "What's your name?"

No answer.

"Well, my name is Dixie." She hunched down to the child's level as her ponytail hung over her shoulder.

Silence.

"It's okay. You don't have to be afraid of me." She toyed with the child's hair, instinctively evaluating the cleaned but undressed scrape above her eyebrow.

"Are you gonna give me a shot?"

"No."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart." Dixie sang as she gracefully sketched the shape of an X over her chest, enchanting the child with one of her radiant smiles. "Come here, sweetie." Reaching with both hands, Dixie collected the little girl in her arms.

"Melody."

"Hm?"

"My name is Melody."

"Melody. Why, that's a lovely name."

Melody was still shedding tears. "Now, why are you crying?"

The little girl shrugged as she fought a losing struggle to control her quivering lower lip. Melody handed her the flashlight and a collection of pens Dixie recognized from Kel's pocket, reprising her former eerie, sinking feeling. "Where did you get these?"

"These are Dr. Kelly's..."

"I thought so...and how did you come upon them?"

"I picked them up...when he fell down." Melody replied, barely audible above the compounding sobs.

"He fell down?"

Something's terribly wrong.

"He said his legs hurt...and then he...am I in trouble?"

Dixie shook her head as she took the little girl's hand.

"No, Honey. You're not in trouble." Keep it together, Dix! The last thing you want to do is frighten her more.

She tried not to raise her voice. "Where is he now? Where's Dr. Kelly?"

The little girl pointed to the closed treatment room door. Dixie opened it a crack and scanned the area, expecting to see an aching, coughing, physician rubbing and complaining about the tenderness in--whatever he had hit when he fell. "Dr. Brackett?"

Her insides were churning with uncertainty and confusion when there was no answer and she didn't see him upon giving the room a quick once over. "He's not in here." She looked back to the little girl.

"Yes, he is," she replied tearfully. "He didn't get up."

"You mean...he's still on the floor?" Dixie fought to overcome her uneasiness, but could feel the blood draining from her lips and neck.

Johnny and Roy entered the corridor, having been shooed (gratefully) from the treatment room opposite by a certain snappy resident. Johnny placed the handy talkie to his lips only to stop in surprise upon witnessing an undeniable look of worry upon their friend's face.

"Dix?" Roy asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, I think there is." Her dry utterance underscored a frightened tone, compelling her friends to follow her into the unknown. She pushed the door the rest of the way open with her shoulder and entered with them. "Dr. Brackett?"

Upon entry she heard the trickling of water running from the faucet that needed a washer. "Kel?" A moan drew her attention to the floor--

"Oh, God! Kel!"

Dixie's voice evaporated as she stooped beside him. "Kel!" She choked on the dryness of her throat, looking to Roy and John equally alarmed by the familiar form lying face down, motionless on the floor. "I knew something was wrong!" She cursed herself for not getting there faster as she put her hands to his face. "Cool, pale and diaphoretic."

Roy looked to his similarly stunned co-worker. "Let's get him turned over."

"We'd better keep him on his side just in case..." Johnny suggested, quickly glancing back at the youngster.

"Good idea."

"He's breathing?"

"I think so..." She could feel herself begin to cry with the impact of the paramedic's question as her hand slid over Kel's pale lips to feel any air moving. "Yeah. I think so...barely...oh God." She prayed. "Kel?" Dixie spoke loudly. "Kel, can you hear me?" Her other hand pushed back her tears.

He uttered a groan.

"Kel! Can you hear me?!" Dixie looked up to Roy. "Let's get some oxygen going...in the cabinet." She directed. Roy hopped up to the cupboard to grab the mask, ripped open the plastic wrap, and attached the green tubing to the flow meter and tossing the plastic mask to Dixie.

"Okay...you're on ten liters."

With trembling hands, Dixie supported the physician's head on her folded knees, as she placed he clear plastic mask over his face and secured the strap. "Go get Dr. Early, or anybody."

Johnny immediately retreated--with the little girl, removing the potential hindrance she represented. Once outside the door, the paramedic grabbed the attention of Joe Early, who was traveling down the hall toward the elevators.

"Doc?! We need help in five!" He turned to the nurse who came to him upon hearing the urgency in his voice.

The physician looked up from the chart, holding up a hand to signify his already inundated situation. "I'll be in as soon as I can."

Not wanting to sound panicked, but still attract the doctor's assistance, he placed a free hand on the older man's forearm, halting him.

"Doc?"

"Johnny, I said--"

"--Doc Brackett is out cold on the floor in room five."

As the metal chart slammed against the counter in surprise, the attention of several nurses was diverted toward the sound, where they began to collect.

"Here, Honey," Johnny told Melody. "This is Kate. She's very nice. She's gonna take very good care of you. I have to go help the doctors..."

Melody's eyes were flooded with worry. "Is Dr. Kelly all right?"

"He's going to be just fine." Johnny placated the frightened child, hiding his pessimistic inclinations. He bolted back to the room to find Dixie knelt at Dr. Brackett's head noticing movement and increasing utterances.

"Kel?"

Irritated by the plastic apparatus seated snugly over his nose and mouth, the awakening man on the floor swatted at the offensive object.

"Looks like he's coming around." Roy looked up to Dixie and John as their friend took another swipe.

Johnny nodded, encouraging Dixie to submit her task as Joe burst through the doors. His first glance was to the empty procedure table...then down to the floor. A momentary wave of shock flooded his expression.

Grabbing Kel's arm, the somewhat encouraged nurse hoped Kel's self restraint would take over once he realized what was happening. "Kel, let that be--you've passed out. You need to leave the oxygen on for a little while until--"

No match for his strength, she tried in vain to maintain her hold on his powerful arms. But he broke free, knocking her aside. Another swing led into a combative struggle.

Kelly Brackett was on the verge of violence, ripping the oxygen mask from his frightened face. Johnny and Roy assumed either arm.

"Get off!" He mumbled.

"Kel, calm down!" Trying to soothe and re-orient the man to his own environment, Dixie crawled back over, placing her hands on his face, and explained. "Kel, you've passed out...but you're going to be all ri--."

He twisted frantically to escape from her grasp. "Get off...get...get away...all of...all of you." He tried to sit up. "Get off of me!"

"Kel!" Joe Early shouted, disconcerted about not having a clue what was going on. "Lie still!"

"Get off of me...!" He coughed and pulled his arms toward is chest. "You're killing me!"

Reading the unreasonable terror in the face of one normally veiled with confidence, Dixie pleaded for an explanation. "Kel, tell us what's wrong!"

"Pain! I can't...I can't breathe," he gasped.

"Calm down...you're breathing fine." She held his face tightly and tenderly between her hands and directed it toward her. His sparkling gray eyes held only a vacant, desperate stare as they met hers.

"Let me go...damn it!"

"Kel!" She shouted over his maneuvering, pleading for his recollection. "Kel. Honey, it's me...it's Dixie! Calm down. You have to calm--"

"I don't know...who you are..." Kel panted.

"Or what you want...." He screamed hoarsely as his neck veins bulged. "Get away from me...all of you!" He lifted his leg in an attempt to kick against the paramedic now lying across them.

Johnny looked up to Dr. Early and suggested softly, "Doc...he looks like he's about to stroke out!"

"Dix, draw up five of Valium in a syringe-"

Dixie shook her head and debated. "The little girl said he fell...what if he hit his head? A head injury might account for his behavior..."

"Once we get him under control physically, I'll worry about his obviously altered neurological status. First thing we'll do is get an X-Ray and CT scan anyway and that won't be accomplished successfully in his present state---and we don't have enough bodies to contain him."

Everyone acknowledged the plan. "We'll give it to him IM. Once he settles down we'll see about getting an IV in him. Johnny, you stay put and hold on. Roy, as soon as he quiets down, get him hooked up to the cardiac monitor. " Joe gave the orders as he lay across his colleague's chest and arms.

"Right."

"Damn you!" Kel coughed and struggled some more, licking his lips as if they were numb. "Get off of me!"

The words and uncharacteristic look of panic in the eyes of their department chief confounded everyone deeply. Dixie returned from the cabinet and after a few flicks of the syringe hopped over the calamity of men, carefully avoiding trampling hands and feet, and held out the sedative to Joe.

Struggling to maintain his position of restraint on the thoroughbred, Joe shook his head. "You give it!"

Dixie stabbed the injection into his leg and pushed the plunger.

"Damn you!" Kel yelled as the burn seared into his thigh. "Damn you...if I ever get out of this...place...I'll kill you! I'll kill all of you!"

Joe Early sighed heavily and shook his head, as the Valium finally took effect and Kel Brackett began to relax. It was one of the longest five minutes Joe could remember. He slipped the restraints on his increasingly tranquil patient assessing the effects of the sedative. "Let's get these on him now, before he comes around again." He wiped the sweat from his forehead. "My God...what happened?"

"We don't know," Roy explained, tossing a glance to Dixie who was still holding Kel's hand, but shifted her grasp to check his pulse upon noticing curious eyes. "The little girl said he'd fallen...we came in here, and found him..."

Joe threw her a cotton restraint at which she balked, and then with a nod of confidence from Joe applied it to Kel's wrist. Please...when-if he comes around again... don't let him need these. Dixie became almost nauseated at the thought of Kel thrashing against restraints, strapped to a hospital bed.

Early stepped back with the paramedic as two orderlies arrived and helped get the doctor-turned-patient onto the exam table. The crew hoisted the heavy floppy weight onto the exam table.

"Let's get a set of vitals, huh?"

Roy, who needed no cue from the physician, was already inflating the cuff.

"Dix, what's his pulse?"

"Its racing...bounding," she replied still out of breath and forlorn. "He thought earlier he was coming down with the flu..."

"I've never seen him like this before..." A glance in Kel's direction perplexed Dr. Early. He rubbed his forehead. "He's had flu symptoms?"

"I think so." Dixie was forcing herself to stay together. "I know he's been feeling lousy all day..."

"He was combative, though," Joe mused out loud, hoping the pieces of the puzzle would make sense. "Why was he so extremely frightened?"

"He sounded...almost delusional." Dixie hated her words.

Almost? Joe held his thoughts.

"BP's 166/98." Roy reported.

Joe sighed. "Let's get an IV started...and keep the oxygen on him. How's his breathing?" Joe turned back to Dixie, who was monitoring Kel's airway.

Her dark blue eyes held a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. "Seems to be deteriorating again..." She grimaced in confusion. "The air exchange is getting worse."

"He's gone from violent to floppy in a matter of minutes!"

Kel, you would have to come down with something complicated, Joe thought, sighing inwardly. "Okay...Dix, let's get a CBC and a set of 'lytes, might as well get some blood gasses too. In the meantime let's get the IV going." It may or may not have been helpful--he hadn't seen anything quite like this before. As he looked Kel over, Joe couldn't help but notice that Kel was extremely diaphoretic. "He's soaked..."

Roy nodded. "I know...air exchange isn't improving either. He's wheezing...working pretty hard to breathe too--"

Johnny supported his chin, having taken over for Dixie as she had reluctantly left with blood samples and then to check on the personnel status of the department. After sending the lab work, some adjustments would have to be made to accommodate an already overtaxed staff...and adequate staffing was her responsibility.

"This isn't making any sense." His vital signs are borderline hypertensive but his neuromuscular status is deteriorating. He's still a bit tachycardic...did the Valium interact adversely with his underlying condition? "While we're at it, let's do a toxicology screen--might as well include the works."

Kel was getting cyanotic. "We've got no choice now. Get anesthesia up here, STAT."

The 'Anesthesia, STAT' page was a cavalry call...assembling every available free hand in the vicinity, the first of which was Mike Morton.

"Joe?" he asked, looking on. "What the hell happened?" Mike instinctively ran to Kel's head. "Get me a blade, I'll 'tube him."

"Anesthesia is on their way, Mike. He hasn't arrested but we're losing ground and I don't want to waste precious time and oxygen trying to put a tube in when we can optimize his airway while the experts hurry themselves on over here." The frustration was mounting. Mike laid back.

"Kel, come on, you can fight this!" Whatever this is!

**

"Anesthesia, STAT--Emergency Room..."

The page repeated, further sickening Dixie as she pressed on making phone calls and schedule adjustments to accommodate the drain on the staffing that Kel's absence would imbue.

Refraining from falling in stride behind the dash of rescuers in scrubs, Dixie affected her triage skills and would maintain them. At this point they were her only possible contribution to Kel's outcome.

**

"Squad 51, available."

"Squad 51...time in 1643."

"Ten-four, LA." An exhausted Johnny Gage reported into the handy talkie a little over an hour after his first attempt to make them selves available for dispatch, looking down the corridor to Dixie who was occupied with Dr. Lazarin at the 'com. He turned to watch the small four year old, accompanied by her older sister and father exiting toward the parking lot.

The squawking of the communication device alarmed the teenager, who looked around. After the some consultation with the younger sister who appeared to offer the elder instruction, the lovely, dark-haired teenager spoke to her reluctant father for a moment. Following a nod of approval from him, she turned back, jogging quickly toward the two men in blue uniforms. "Hey."

The paramedic appeared slightly confused, but he greeted her with as much of a grin as he could manage, and added. "You belong to Melody?"

"Yeah. I'm Tanya...her sister."

"Nice to meet you, Tanya." He offered. "I'm John Gage and this is my partner, Roy. That's some little sister you've got there!"

"Yeah. She's a piece of work, sometimes."

I imagine she's not the only one.

Roy and John shared a glance.

"I...um...well I mean...Mel and me...we were wondering like...well...the doctor...how's he doing?"

"He's in X-Ray now..." Johnny bit his lip as Roy gave a slight shrug. "They're taking good care of him."

"Is...is he gonna be okay?" She was still chewing the gum, though the flavor had long since gone, and its consistency was now too rubbery to form bubbles of respectable size.

"These guys are the best." Frustrated that he couldn't offer much more, John's pleasant expression dwindled slightly.

"Well, I hope he'll be all right..."

"Thanks, darlin'. We do too."

Johnny replied warmly and looked to the little charmer in the distance. "You make sure you watch that little lady on the flying trapeze...close! No more acrobatics without a net! "

"I know...right!" She smiled, nodded, and left to rejoin her family.

**

"Chris?! Can you give me a hand? " Greta Moser, a well-seasoned intensive care nurse, beckoned the tall, young orderly fingering the dials of her patient's ventilator. "I realize you're in med school, but it's a little soon to be playing doctor with the dials. Besides, I need to get him moved up in bed."

"Sure." He pivoted to the side of the bed, beginning to loosen the restraints before he removed the padded bedrails.

"He's a VIP and I have a feeling he's going to bring in a lot of visitors so I want to get him cleaned up and presentable before they start to wander in."

The young man disconnected the patient from the ventilator, placed one hand beneath his neck and one on the small rectangular lift sheet beneath Kelly Brackett. Greta did the same on the other side.

"VIP, huh?" Chris viewed the features, assessing the patient with a critical eye.

"Dr. Kelly Brackett."

"The Dr. Kelly Brackett?"

"The one and only."

"Oh yeah..." He eyed the physical features of the patient more closely. "Didn't recognize him. He sure looks different...flat out like this. What happened to him?"

"Nobody knows!" She chuckled.

"I never really liked the guy although he has mellowed out a bit over the years."

"Yeah. I'd say so."

He cavalierly picked up a flaccid extremity and allowed it to fall onto the bed, contemplating the inane task of re-tying the chamois strips of restraint.

"I think they're ruling out Guillain-Barre, myasthenia, all kinds of neuromuscular stuff. It's really weird."

"Yeah."

"Kind of ironic, isn't it?"

"What's that?" He reconnected the endotracheal tube to the alarming ventilator.

"Nobody--including our illustrious Good Doctor--has a clue what's ailing him. In fact, I'll bet dollars to donuts, Dr. Know-It-All doesn't even know his first name right now." She let out a small, mirthless chuckle, then pulled the curtain back to reveal to passers-by and visitors, a clean, cared for, comatose body, resting in the arms of Rampart's state-of-the-art Intensive Care Unit.

**

Dixie sat in the lounge with her head in her hands, stealing the first break she'd had in hours. She looked up to Joe Early as he entered. "Hi, Joe."

"Hi." The weary physician pulled out the chair opposite her and plopped down in it, completely ignoring the coffee maker. "Are you okay?"

It was obvious she had been crying. She bit her lip, raised a tearful smile and sighed. "Huh-uh." As she looked back to the mug of black coffee that had long since lost her interest, her question was left unspoken. How is he, Joe?

Joe shrugged. "Kel's stable, for the moment...still don't have a clue what's wrong with him."

"Greta Moser says you're thinking some pretty nasty thoughts about him."

Dixie confronted her friend. "Guillain-Barre? MS? Myasthenia?" She barely choked out the words before breaking into sobs.

"Dix, you know as well as I do, those are long shots that we have to rule out." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a tissue, then moved his chair closer beside her that he could place a comforting arm around her shoulder. "Get hold of yourself."

She nodded, acknowledging her dear friend's advice. "I'm sorry." She sniffed, blew, and dabbed. Through very wet lips she asked. "What about the tox screen?"

"Still waiting on it...the lab's swamped today." Joe bit his lip.

"But I thought you ordered that 'STAT?!'" Inefficiency always frustrated Dixie; today it infuriated her.

Joe drew her in closer, diagnosing her needs as well. "He's in ICU, they probably have him settled in, if you wanted to look in on him. Couldn't hurt if he were to hear a friendly voice."

"Yeah..." Dixie stared into the cup of coffee before her, as though waiting for it to reveal the secret of the universe. "I...except for that virus a few years back, he's hardly ever been sick...I just can't see him like this..." She toyed with her tissue and shook her head. "I'm scared, Joe. I can't see him on a ventilator." She cried some more.

"Yes, you can, Dix." He pushed her coffee mug to the center of the table. "You'll go up there. You'll talk to him. You'll hold his hand. I'll go with you if it'll help."

"But what if--?" She stopped in mid sentence.

"What if you break down and cry in front of everybody?" Over the years, Joe Early and Dixie McCall had become very literate in one another's emotions. They were scholars; Kel was still learning.

Dixie conceded.

"What if we pull the curtain...and cry together?" His voice broke ever so slightly with the weight of unshed tears. Kel was his best friend; this was weighing heavily on him too.

"Joe." Her hand went over his as her head rested on his shoulder.

"It's okay, Dix. So you're not prepared to witness someone you love dependent on a machine. None of us are," Joe assured her. "We're only human--."

Carmen Manillo, a veteran laboratory technician, stuck her head into the room.

"Dr. Early? Gayle said you were in here...I have those lab results you wanted ."

Joe jumped up and hurried over. As he read the results, his expression became increasingly puzzled. "Dix...call up the pharmacy and see about getting a hold of some dimercaprol..."

"Dimercaprol?!" Dixie repeated. "Sure...what do you need that for?"

Joe sat down. "Kel's lab results..."

The nurse listened as she directly tore to the phone and dialed the pharmacy.

"Looks like we're going to need to take a rain check on our 'curtain call' and save our tears for someone who really needs them."

Dixie awaited an answer from both ends of the receiver.

"He's suffering from a severe case of mercury intoxication."

"What?! Mercury --but...how?!" The head nurse of the Emergency Room had been in medicine long enough that she had seen just about everything. "Where and how...did he come in contact with...mercury?!"

"I don't know." Joe looked perplexed, but only briefly. "But I am sure of one thing...it's not something Kelly Brackett would intentionally ingest."

Once again, Dixie found herself uneasy with the looming implications. "But, how could he be exposed to that much mercury and not know it? If he even suspected the possibility of contact, he'd have told somebody."

"I don't know..." Joe pondered as he put a hand to his forehead and rubbed.

"It's gone beyond our hands I'm afraid.'

"What do you mean?! We can treat him can't we? I mean it's...it is reversible, right?"

"Oh, we can treat him. We're going to have to include the Department of Health on this one...anytime a hazardous substance is mysteriously discovered in lab findings, they'll have to do an investigation possibly even notify the police--."

"The police...?" Within the recesses of her brain, Dixie could feel her cautious optimism being siphoned as she'd answered her own question.

Joe's expression was solemn as he waved the slip of lab results. "The amount of mercury in his bloodstream. Dix, this points to the distinct possibility of attempted murder."

**

Chris stood in the ICU, keeping watch over the patient who'd most captivated his attention...Dr. Kel Brackett. As his blood achieved therapeutic levels of the dimercaprol, the physician's condition was improving. If his pace continued it seemed he might even be out of the woods sooner than expected.

The apprentice marveled that the doctor had made it this far...apparently, the 'Good Doctor' is hardier than I'd given him credit. We'll see for how long.

Of course, Nurse Dixie had come by whenever she'd had the chance, which was not as often as she'd hoped given the staffing crunch downstairs. After overcoming her aversion to seeing someone she cared about so deeply relying on a machine for even his most basic function of life, she'd spent as much time as she could by Brackett's side.

Ah...What a woman! Chris mused, thinking of the lovely blonde nurse.

Yes... She was small, but mighty tough. A quality he admired in a woman. Although the young attendant was primarily assigned to the ICU, he had once worked down in the ER, but had too often found himself distracted by merely by her presence. All she had to do was breathe and it was enough to captivate him....and those Irish eyes.!

But, unfortunately, she only had eyes for Kelly Brackett--or so the rumor-mongers claimed.

But what do they know? Perhaps 'they' had caught--just as he had--an extended glance, a smile incompletely concealing the passionate warmth beneath, or a needless, casual touch. Tormenting images of what their private conduct might entail hung before him embarrassing and angering him. They're just rumors Chris!

But, her faithful presence suggested more substance to them than he cared to admit.

Rumors, Chris, he consoled.

"Juuust rumors," he mumbled to the sleeping patient.

He went about his work for a few more minutes, then reached for the inhaler tucked in pocket. "Hmmm...what's this?!"

With his back to any public, he disconnected the plastic tube attaching Kelly Brackett to his life-supporting ventilator. Releasing a quick spray directly into the endotracheal tube, he re-attached the plastic circuitry and allowed the machine that was to sustain and improve the good doctor's existence, breath by breath, disperse the very poison that would take it away.

**

"What do you mean, the police don't have any solid leads yet?" Dixie McCall was not particularly happy.

"Whoever poisoned Kel hasn't left any clues whatsoever." Joe held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, Dix...I'm just the messenger! I don't control these things!" he submitted thankfully. "I'm sure they're doing everything they possibly can..."

Dixie released an indignant chortle. "Is that good enough? What exactly is everything? Why isn't there a guard posted beside his bed?"

'I'm sure if they thought it was necessary, someone would be there." Joe's exasperation was becoming evident.

His hand brushed quickly through his hair. "Look next time the detective calls...you talk to him."

"I will!" Her hands slapped on her thighs. "In fact, I'll call them right now!"

"And say what? What are you going to ask them, Dix? You're going to conduct their investigation?"

Dixie's eyes narrowed in response to the common sense spewing forth from Joe's lips.

"You've got to calm down, Dix."

"Calm down?! How? My insides are a ball of nerves! I feel like I'm going to explode--"

"Listen, Dix." He looked into her eyes. "Kel is improving. Once his blood levels return to normal, we'll be able to find out from the horse's mouth where he was, what he did that day and maybe...where he came in contact with the mercury."

"If his memory comes back! I've been reading what that...that crap can do to your system!"

"Then you should also have read somewhere that once the levels return to normal...our sweetheart most likely will too."

Our sweetheart. Dixie's purse lips unfolded into a slight smile and then nodded in resignation. "I'm just ...still a little afraid. I'm sorry, Joe. I am sounding ridiculous, I suppose. "

He reiterated. "He seems to be doing a lot better now...isn't that the important thing?"

"Yeah. And Kel's tough," she encouraged herself.

"That's our girl!"

"But..."

"What, Dix?"

Dixie fought vulnerability and was gaining ground.

But...

"If they don't catch whoever did this to him, what's to stop that person from trying again?"

Joe put a hand on her shoulder. "You can't think the worst, Dix. I--" He broke off as an overhead page interrupted them. In response, he dialed the operator.

"Yeah, Sam?"

Dixie followed him, frowning in concern as his expression became increasingly serious.

"Yes...thank you...we'll be right there." Joe hung up, and turned solemnly to Dixie. "We'd better get upstairs."

"Joe...?" Dixie asked, afraid of the answer.

"Seems 'our sweetheart' has taken a turn for the worse..."

He reached out a hand to comfort Dixie as her hopeful expression deteriorated. "Don't worry, Dix...we'll find out what's going on and we'll fix the problem."

God help us!

**

With the helm of the ER in the capable hands of the Doctors Lazarin and Morton, Dixie and Joe stood in silence waiting for the elevator doors to open and what scenario would be unveiled before them.

Preparing for the worst, Dixie had imagined a swarm of activity near his cubicle.

As predicted, the hustle of the ICU was accelerated somewhat. As she focused on cubicle number 16, she saw only a laboratory technician drawing more blood samples, a nurse with the assistance of an orderly setting up what appeared to be some sort of irrigation system...and a very concerned attending physician.

"Sam?"

"Hi, Joe, Dixie." Dr. Sam Walstreet turned from his pensive stance, chewing on his stale spearmint gum. He had apparently picked the wrong week to give up smoking. "I'm sorry I don't have better news for you."

"What the hell's going on?" Joe inquired.

"I wish I knew. We were all set to begin weaning him from the ventilator when..."

"When what?!"

"Sara Parker called me about a half an hour ago and reported he was fuckin' flaccid again! Well...Sara didn't use the term 'fuck', of course...I added that." He grinned facetiously at Dixie with his frustration fully exposed.

It was a well-known fact that Sam, although very spiritual, even recently rededicating his life to Christianity, in cases of extreme duress and/or emergency, resorted to his default vocabulary as a fireman would a two and a half. Profanity had been a vocabulary that had served him well in his medical career until on a long ago date with the head nurse of the Emergency Room, was educated that the 'f-word' was not a letter of the alphabet, a medical term and could not, to her knowledge, be found anywhere in scripture.

"Flaccid?!"

"Pretty f--damn flaccid." The aggravated physician picked up Kel's hand by a couple of hairs, then dropped it, followed by a chest rub that would parallel a kick in the chest by a mule, only to elicit no response.

"Secondary redistribution?"

"Pffftt. Never heard of it or seen it documented with mercurial poisoning but...I suppose it's possible. In all honesty, Joe I'm not that acclimated when it comes to the subject. It's just not somethin' you see every day."

"So...now what?!"

"Well, dialysis as soon as the stat levels come back to confirm our suspicions...we're getting him ready to have the shunt put in. Anesthesia should be coming for him anytime now to take him to surgery..."

"You're not wasting any time."

"We don't have any to waste. Mercury is nasty shit. As soon as we get the labs back they can cut." Sam addressed both Joe and Dixie, who stood beside Joe needing to hear the news.

Giving limited glances over her shoulder to the again comatose man lying beneath accumulating wires and tubes, Dixie became increasingly sickened. "Back to square one." Just when he was getting somewhere!

The next elevator load delivered the operating room personnel to assess and prepare the patient for surgery. Access would be needed for the life-saving filtration system to perform its function.

The report given to anesthesia was a condensed version of the events that had transpired the last few hours. Sam Walstreet was never one to mince words. "He's loaded with mercury and it looks like acute renal failure. We want to get ahead of this before it completely eradicates his kidneys and liver...not to mention what it's doing to his squash. We thought it wouldn't hurt to start him on some low dose Dopamine to support his kidneys and cardiovascular system..."

Unbelievable. This report she was hearing did not concern some homeless hobo or a patient who'd just had a heart attack. "Any allergies?" Dinah Washington, the anesthetist, asked.

"Uh..." Sam Walstreet tried to recall off-hand, reaching for Kelly Brackett's chart.

"No," Dixie contributed very hoarsely. "No allergies..."

"Only mercury, huh?" The nurse kidded with a slight chuckle.

Dixie turned her head and wiped the spilling tears with her hand. Electing not to brush his forehead with a kiss that Kel seemed nowhere near to appreciate, the nurse instead, as if administering a balm, pressed the tears she had wiped from her cheeks into the hand of her comatose aficionado.

**

"Dix!" John Gage chimed down the hall. "You wouldn't have believed this one! A guy on a cherry picker doing home improvement...not only takes his seven-year old kid for a 'ride' but...lets her at the controls while he's on the roof fixing the down-spout!"

Roy added, "Who needs fiction as long as you've got this material for...conversa-"

The expression on the nurse's face changed little as they approached her. "He's in surgery now." She had heard little of their story.

"What?!" They automatically knew who 'he' was.

"Why? I thought he was getting better."

"Yeah...well, he was." Her voice revealed the degree to which she was holding back tears. "A couple of hours ago, it happened again. He's suffered some sort of relapse."

"Relapse...but he was doing so well."

"Yep...well, now he looks about the same as he did a few days ago...only with a few more tubes and wires. They're putting in a shunt so they can...dialyze..."

"Dialysis? Wow," Roy murmured softly. "Sorry to hear that."

The paramedics attempted to rescue the woman about to break into a full sob. "How 'bout some coffee, Dix?"

"No." Her head dipped slightly as she collected herself enough to offer them an explanation. "I, um...I'm sorry guys...I can't talk about it anymore...or I might blow up." She put her hands out in front of her as if to brace against impending debate. "I have to do something...I mean...I have to inventory the supply cabinets, and get these count sheets legible...then there's always the schedule. I just...I can't talk about it right now."

"Sure."

"Well, if you need anything--"

"I know, guys." She shuffled down the hall to tend to the business of her work, then briefly glanced over her shoulder and threw them a tearful, "Thanks."

**

With his tongue lodged in his cheek, Sam Walstreet held the laboratory slip and scratched his head.

"What's up, 'Street?" Joe asked curiously holding a much needed cup of coffee.

"Well? I thought you'd be interested in the overall lab results of our fine flaccid friend." He sighed. "As we suspected the mercury levels were elevated...but..."

"But...what?'

"Well, they were far too high for any type of redistribution ...these levels were higher than his initial ones."

"Higher?! You mean..."

Sam confirmed with an exasperated nod. "He must have received another bolus."

Joe folded his arms across the counter and looked ahead. "Right here in the intensive care unit."

"Right under our damn noses." He reached for pack of gum and pulled it out... empty. Damn!

He crumpled the worthless paper, tossed it at the trashcan, and missed. "We've sent sputum samples and gastric washings-- started the charcoal deal just in case - by this afternoon we should know the route of delivery..."

"Yeah..." Joe rested his head on his arm and sucked his lower lip tightly over his top one. But what about the who and the why?

**

It's taking much longer this time...please, Kel...wake up.

Today was her day off. Having been persuaded by Joe to go home, Dixie collected herself and took care of 'things' at her apartment. She was looking far from refreshed even in her brand new baby blue turtleneck and khaki hip huggers. It was Kel's favorite outfit. Her hair was no less than gorgeous although it received minimal attention this morning and was still damp from this morning's shower. For it had been a long one, longer than usual.

As the comforting warm water poured over her body like an answer to the ceaseless prayer she had been living in for the past week, she stood and cried; knowing God had heard her. But wondering how He would answer her request. Regardless of the outcome, she knew He would provide the strength to face it. Dixie stood by Kel's side as Sam approached her from behind

"He's had a second insult, he's also had surgery and still has a bunch of the anesthesia on board..." Sam had read Dixie's thoughts...again.

"I just wish he'd open his eyes. Has the dialysis helped?"

Sam nodded. "Lab work is returning to normal...it's going to take some time to assess his hepatic and renal function..."

"Your guess?"

"Come on, Dix. We've been in this business long enough to know you don't guess---"

Please...something...?! Answering her thoughts, the doctor comforted. "He's healthy and taken good care of himself...he's got his age goin' for him...certainly looks like he's got a good reason to regain his former health status..."' The physician offered with a slight slur to successfully bring a smile to an otherwise pre-occupied face.

"Gum?" He reached in his pocket for the square packet he had come to rely on heavily.

"Um...thanks." She pulled the piece from the pack in his hand.

"His output's picking up...I'd say...his prognosis is still very good, Dix. I think we got to him in time." He shoved a couple of sticks in between his teeth. "He's got everything going for him..."

She nodded but her smile dimmed. Except for the fact that someone wants him dead.

****

Juuuust rumor Chris. The orderly consoled as he distributed the pile of linen designated for the bed of Kelly Brackett. He couldn't help but overhearing the exchange between the concerned nurse and bewildered physician.

"Hi, Chris." The soft pleasant voice startled him upon finishing her discussion with Street.

"Hi, Miss McCall."

"I didn't know you were working up here. When did you start?" She glanced up at the attendant but her attention obviously focused on the man in the bed.

"A few months ago."

Just rumors, Chris...

"When you started school...and left the emergency room...I thought you were leaving permanently."

"Well...I was gonna...but ...finances got a little tight and ...they needed help up here so..."

"Like it?' Dixie opened the pack of fresh lemon swabs that had been soaking on ice, and carefully wiped them over Kel's dry tongue.

"Yeah. I dig it up here."

He placed the basin full new toiletries in the bedside stand.

"Well, we miss you down there. You were a good worker...great with patients..." The woman in blue glanced up from her task and then even attempted to smile at him.

"Hard to believe." The man referred to the motionless patient.

"Yeah," she said, composed.

"They still don't know what came over him, huh?"

"Not really..." She sighed as her eyes looked up from her task, still holding the wooden applicator that she used to place lubricant on Kel's parched lips.

Chris chose to ignore the tenderness with which it was applied.

Rumors Chris...just rumors. **

The next day, Dixie was trying to busy herself at the desk with paperwork...anything to distract herself from Kel's condition. A voice redirected her attention.

"How is he?" A familiar deep voice spoke.

"Neil." She stood. Recognizing his features, she smiled in relief and greeted him with a warm embrace. "I'm glad you're here."

She looked up into the eyes of the taller figure of Kel's father. Biting her lip, Dixie forced herself to keep her emotions in check.

"He's recovering...slowly. They're pretty sure the dialysis is doing its job. Kel just needs a chance to get that crap out of his system..."

"Does anybody have any idea what happened...what came over him?"

Dixie wasn't certain, but it became obvious as the conversation progressed that the father of the man she adored had heard very few details of his son's misfortune. Tucking the mound of papers in a huge ledger, Dixie took his arm and walked him toward the less hectic waiting area of the corridor. She wasn't confident that she possessed the strength to recount the entire overture yet again.

But for Neil, she would, and she did.

"Do they have any idea who did it?" the elder Brackett asked, he reached in his pocket for his handkerchief.

"Not yet...they're watching him closely, though." Dixie sighed.

"They think it might be someone who works here." She shook her head softly. "I've got a few minutes, I'll take you to see him, if you like..."

"Of course." He put a hand on her shoulder, knowing well how close she was to his son. "Are you okay? I know you and Kel were...well...close." His deep comforting voice spoke to her in a familiar way.

"Sure." She forced a smile of confidence and shrugged. "I guess I have to be.' After establishing an early lunch break from Betty, Dixie escorted Neil Brackett to the elevator doors. "He probably won't know we're there...he's still semi-comatose..."

"Semi-comatose? What does that mean?"

"Well, he pulls away from pain...his muscles...'twitch a little.' Sam says it's a sign his neuromuscular system is trying to get started again.' She pressed the button.

**

The doors opened.

"Oh...hi, Chris." She managed to offer the young man an empty smile.

"Hi, Miss McCall. Goin' up?"

"Yeah. Five please."

The elevator doors closed behind them.

"Chris, this is Neil Brackett, Kel-Dr. Brackett's father. Neil Brackett, this is Chris Trissot, one of our orderlies here at Rampart. And in the future...it'll be Dr. Trissot."

"Oh...medical school, huh? Well...pleased to meet you, Son."

"My pleasure, Sir." The younger man received the older man's hand. "I'm sorry about what's happened to your son. I hope they find whoever did this to him."

Dixie eyed the young man. I was that despondent that I actually discussed the possibility of foul play with Chris? Come on, Dix try to remember...I might have mentioned mercury, but...I don't think so...

Neil Brackett released the orderly's hand and braced himself against the metal railing of the elevator as it tugged them up to the fifth floor. Dixie did likewise trying to sort her thoughts, only briefly removing her gaze from the attendant in white.

**

The doors to the visitor elevators opened to a calm fairly empty hallway.

Walking down the corridor, Dixie prepared Neil for what he would see. He treaded slowly and occasionally stopping for a clarification and encouragement from his son's dear, sweet friend who had become his own as well.

Before they opened the heavy double doors to the patient area, he stopped again and placed his free hand over Dixie's. "You know, my son....well, he's pretty lucky to have someone-a friend like you.. to hurt so badly for him."

"Well.." She patted his in return. "I feel very blessed myself...to have some one like your son ...to miss so badly..." And love so much!

Dixie powerfully shouldered the doors open and held them for the senior. Quietly, they walked over to cubicle number 16. Aside from the surrounding cacophony of technology, he was a picture of tranquility.

Eyeing Neil's struggling lower lip, she quickly pulled the curtain that offered at least a veil of privacy. The elder man reached for the hand of his son, and with his other hand took the handkerchief to his weeping eyes.

"I'm sorry, Dixie."

"It's okay." She rubbed his shoulder. I'd have been surprised and a little disappointed if I hadn't seen any tears.

He pressed the rumpled white cotton against face and composed himself.

"He looks ...peaceful." The man shuddered at his analogy to a corpse.

"He's very much alive, Neil." Her voice began croakily but gained convincing force. "It's okay to talk to him."

With a nod of acknowledgement, he began. "It's me, Son. Dixie's here too."

Neil dabbed another drop from his cheek

"We've seen each other through some pretty tough times..."

A smile from Dixie encouraged him onward. "So here we are again...only I get to do the worrying this time." He glanced again over to Dixie. "Well, let me give you something to worry about...! I'm staying at your place. And ...if you don't get home soon...I'll throw one of my famous ol' timer bingo bashes and trash it."

Dixie and Neil both chuckled.

"You'll never locate your lampshades...!" His laughter dwindled almost as rapidly as it had occurred.

Surprising even Dixie at the anger in his eyes, he turned to her still holding the warm hand of his son. "Who'd want to do this to him...and ...why?"

"Don't know." Dixie bit her lip pondering the same question but now with a disturbing suspicion developing in her mind. "But we're gonna find out."

**

"Private party?"

Dixie looked up to see Joe Early's smiling face peering between the curtains.

"Joe!" A grin lit the face of Neil Brackett as well. "It's good to see you." He reached with his free hand toward the warm hands of the bright physician.

"I'm glad that you're here." Joe looked into the man's reddened eyes, and then at his friend lain out in front of him, praying for some small stirring. "I don't know what to say..." He leaned against the side rail opening his palms.

"None of us do." Dixie sighed slipping her hand into Kel's unoccupied hand. 'We just keep going...and pray--"

"What is it, Dix?"

She shook her head. "Maybe its wishful thinking but...I thought I felt him move just now when I squeezed his hand. I could have sworn he squeezed back-Kel?" She focused intently on it. "Kel?! Can you hear me?"

She instinctively squeezed. "Kel if you can hear me squeeze my hand."

All eyes were upon the flat extremity for eternal moments.

Nothing.

Dixie blinked back the tears as she and the others watched and waited.

Nothing...nothing.

"Guess not." Looking across the bed she asked. "Neil? Did you feel anything?"

He shook his head disappointedly.

Nothing...nothing...

Nothing!

"I gotta get back to work." Dixie sniffed, rubbing the tears from her eyes about to release the hand she held when she realized its firm grip upon her own.

A brilliant smile spread across her face as she shook her head slowly. "This isn't my imagination."

His hand lifted with hers, clinging to her dangling fingers. "He won't let go!" She laughed. "He won't let go!"

The older Brackett felt a squeeze as well, joyful at the sensation. "Son!"

"Kel, can you open your eyes?" Joe begged.

Again eternal moments passed. With a twitch here, a flicker there came the ventilator alarm sounding as if announcing Kelly Brackett's resurfacing from the abyss of consciousness.

Finally, his eyelids fluttered and popped open. In them were fear and terror. Dixie was mortified at the possibility that he was experiencing the same psychosis as before until her nursing instincts provided her with other cues.

"Kel. You've had surgery...you're just waking up. You're all right. You're going to be all right. Try to relax."

Unlike before, his gray eyes held their focus.

Intent on her voice, a gleam of comfort and understanding washed over his face. As he looked around, he appeared to recognize and appreciate the people surrounding him.

"Well, I'll be...glad you could join us." His father chuckled. "Next time your 'old man' walks in the room, I'll expect you to stand up."

However one thing the patient did not appreciate was the cumbersome plastic tube gagging and scraping the back of his throat, preventing him from conducting a conversation... He bit against it...but his bite was intercepted by hard plastic. He pushed his tongue against it...only to gag. He reached up against it.

Dixie trapped his hand and soothed him. "Relax. We need to let the tube in a while longer. Just till you're a little stronger." She happily instructed, squeezing the hand that clung to hers so desperately.

The commotion created called many curious staff.

All but one were extremely happy at the physician's second successful emergence out of a coma.

**

"There, Jim. Next time you go crawling under a squad car, make sure you have your turnout gear on."

"Policemen don't wear turnout gear, Joe. I think you have us confused with the other blue-suited wonders. The white haired physician finished taping the dressing to the sutured forearm of the police officer.

"But thanks for the advice. I'll take that into consideration next time your flying through a yellow light like it's the finish line at the Daytona 500." Jim Reed shrugged his tattered uniform shirt over his shoulders and began to button.

"No law against that yet." Joe Early appreciated the chuckle.

"Say...how's Brackett doin'?"

"They have him on a T-Piece this morning." He smiled.

"In English?" The officer asked hopping off the treatment table approaching the heavy door.

"Well, it means he's breathing strongly on his own and not connected to the ventilator system anymore. Before they take out the plastic tube they want to make sure he's got the endurance to support-."

--Code Blue Intensive Care Unit...Code Blue Intensive Care Unit...

Joe tried to remain calm.

Come on...a couple deep breaths, Joe. You saw for yourself, how strong Kel is. His labs are great. They should have the tube out by tomorrow, maybe even this evening. But...?

Quickly, his mind sorted through the patient census in the Unit and ruling out the possible unfortunate candidates. Nobody else fit the criterion either. "Maybe they received an admission from in-house ..." But from where?

The police officer heard the physician mumble to himself and replied. "Huh?"

Joe's mind continued the pace. "But our department sends them the majority of their admits..." Damn it! He couldn't escape the sinking feeling. And without even realizing it, before he knew it, he was pressing the elevator button to the fifth floor...

Jim tagged along, frowning slightly. "You don't think it's Kel, do you?"

"Very unlikely."

But Joe's look of intent took over where his silence left off.

**

As the staff elevator doors opened, the two poured into the deceitfully silent front foyer of the unit then passed through its double doors. The back entrance was much more direct than the visitors elevator placing them almost immediately at Kel's bedside.

Once through them, they bore witness to the unimaginable site of a group of about eight people hoisting the sagging bulk of a patient from the floor where they had ostensibly eased him, to his bed.

His lungs were inflating and deflating at the hands of the person squeezing the oxygen delivery system until the respiratory therapist engaged the machine that would once again sustain the respiratory efforts of a cyanotic Kelly Brackett.

There at the counter was chart number 16 Brackett, Kelly, strewn open as disheveled, as the nurse hurrying by quickly jotted something before running to the phone.

Another individual stood with his hand on the arm of Neil Brackett, apparently directing him to the Waiting Area to ride out this latest storm.

Joe instinctively reached for the shoulder of the stupefied officer beside him and said blankly, "Dix."

Jim received the message loud and clear. "I'll watch for her."

With an appreciative nod, Joe turned and pushed his way through the crowd to assist in someway.

Over the cacophony of protocol, procedure, and algorhythms, the voice of Sam Walstreet shouted directions.

Joe's gaze followed Sam's as he looked to the monitoring devices.

"Well, shit! He's agonal now! Is the epi in?"

"It's in!"

"Somebody start compressions!" The physician rolled his shirtsleeves way back as a resident pounced onto the bed to deliver basic life support. "Anybody know what the hell happened?"

Geneva Winslow, RN, spouted. "All I know is...we had him out of bed in a chair...he was doin' great. The next thing I know...I hear the monitor alarm...he's in a tachycardic heart rate of about 140 and slumped over in his chair like a pile of mashed potatoes."

Mashed potatoes?! Everything's a fuckin' food analogy with Geneva...!

"Anybody check tube placement?" He listened for an answer but was still listening to the nurse's account.

"Tube's still good!" someone reported. "Breath sounds equal."

"How long was he in respiratory arrest?"

"No idea..." She shrugged. "My guess...maybe a couple of minutes."

"Maybe a couple of minutes...this is an Intensive Care Unit for god's sake ---" Sam shut himself up, chewed and heaved a sigh, and prayed at the monitors. "Do something... Give me something to work with, Kel-Baby!"

Nothing.

"Come on, damn it!" He began to curse in tongues staring at the empty screen. "Give him another epi-"

'But we just--." Mike Morton refuted.

"I don't god-damn care what 'we just'....I said give him another round of epi-!!" He shouted. "One milligram of epi-fuckin-ephrine!! IV push!! NOW!!!"

"Done."

"And while we're at it somebody make sure we're ready to externally pace. And somebody get an insulin drip ready to infuse the second we get his labs back! And somebody call the renal guys-have 'em get up here, stat!"

On the monitor...an answer...one deflection...then another.

"Stop compressions!"

No more deflections... "Shit! Start 'em up again! And whoever's pushing drugs...Calcium, calcium, a thing of bicarb, and more calcium...."

"A thing...? But--! Just how are we to document a 'thing' of bicarb? " Morton again.

One glare silenced the objection. "I know, Mike ... I know you know the protocol inside and out...we all know the protocols inside and out....but those protocols are not familiar with this patient or his insult. So back off and let me think ...and maybe, ...hopefully in a week or two he'll be in my office raking my ass over the coals about the fuckin' protocol!"

"Calcium 100mg IV-in."

"Okay good...another one." His attention went back to the monitors, then to the patient. "Bicarb?"

"In."

"W-wait...wait...wait! Stop compressions!" He looked more closely. "Is it my imagination or is he pinking up?" He's pinking up, Sam. He and several others reached for a pulse.

"I got a carotid pulse!"

"Yep...I've got a radial!" The monitor reflected the activity.

"Sam, you old son-of-a-bitch ...you did know what you were talkin' about!" he cried happily spitting his gum directly into the trash receptacle five feet away. "Well, done folks...let's get some lab work, the usual hi-test-for him.

He shook his head and made his way to the esteemed and temporarily relieved Dr. Joe Early already chewing on another fresh piece.

"Excellent job, Street."

"Hey...God is great and God is good!" The physician smiled in appreciation saluting with the crack of his gum.

**

"What happened this time...?" Dixie wanted to know erasing the triumphant physician's wrinkly smile upon entering the 'pleasant' beige walls of the family waiting area. This time she had chosen to remain with Neil and officer Reed.

This time, her fear overpowered her ability to think and act professionally, shackling her to her chair until 'the news' was reported to her.

"We'll know more when we get the labs back."

"Is that the company line?" The frightened nurse shot across the room to Sam. "What do you think happened? Same thing? "

Sam left out only a heavy sigh in response, having poured over the same questions when not wading through Kel's differential diagnosis.

"This is the third time, Sam. It's a very good thing he was intubated already or ..."

"I know...I'm sorry!'

"You're right you're sorry! You're a sorry excuse for an intensive care director...tell me how something like this could have occurred in an intensive care unit?"

She was sobbing...again and she was sick of it. "How could you have let this happen---?"

Sam knew better than to defend against any of Dixie's comments. In fact, he was certain that allowed enough time she would come to regret them on her own. And he would probably receive a needless apology.

"Dix!" Jim consoled her with an arm around her. "Come on. Calm down. Kel's gonna be okay...Sam says he's looking strong..."

She looked directly into the physician's dark eyes and assailed him with her answer to the police officer. "What does he know?" Dixie stormed out of the room.

"Dix?" Neil rose from his seat.

"It's okay...." Sam raised his hand looking into the distance. "Let her go..."

Neil stood to walk over to the physician. "I'm sorry, Dr. Walstreet ...Dixie's just upset." He began to follow the forlorn woman out into the hall then turned. "Thank you, Doctor...for saving my son's life...' He choked out gratefully, as his eyebrows too raised in frustration. "...again."

**

The officers, detectives and the physician had plenty to talk about. Too much for Sam Walstreet's liking.

In spite of the distressed candid words Dixie had spoken, he had patients to treat.

Definitely a Marlborough Moment.

He shook his head and directed his focus to his profession.

**

Geneva Winslow handed Sam a lab slip as he returned through the litter of resuscitation to join Joe at Kel's side. "Fresh off the press...get 'em while they're hot." She reported. He glanced at the figures.

"This can't be right!" Sam put his hand through his shiny well-conditioned black hair as his forehead wrinkled easily with aggravation.

"What?" Joe took out his reading glasses from his pocket and looked over the younger physician's shoulder.

"Everything was ...normal...aside from a little acidosis..."

"Normal?! That's impossible! Are you sure these were the right lab results? Maybe these were the ones from this morning--"

"Huh-uh! Date and time!"

"What?!"

"Look at the date and time!" The disgruntled doctor tossed the slip of paper in the air for Joe Early to catch.

Nodding his head and looking to the ceiling, he then moved to the limp figure whose heart was racing away with his bounding blood pressure.

A grimace of confusion covered his face upon confirming Sam's announcement.

"Then why is he limp as a rag doll?"

"Well...I'm not a neurologist...but I see two possibilities. One, it got in did its thing and got out."

"Which we know is not the case...because he's still flaccid."

"Right..." His eyes narrowed with a glance up to the monitor as he wished for a cigarette, as heaving a sigh. "Or..."

"Still running kinda high isn't he?" Joe referred to his vital signs reflected by the monitoring devices with which both had become pre-occupied.

"Well...Joe...I prefer the term strong but ...yeah...he's been...borderline hypertensive."

"Still circulating the epinephrine from before?"

"Maybe...doubt it." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a pack of mints. Re-opening he popped in two or three then threw it across to Joe as he began to chew.

"Is there room in this cubicle for one more?" Her voice was undeniably more controlled and unmistakably Dixie.

"Well...maybe... if you leave your attitude out in the hall way we could fit you in here--" Sam Walstreet's voice trailed off as he noticed the monitor reporting an accelerated heart rate by about twenty beats per minute.

"Look, Sam...I apologize for what I said earlier...I was way outta line. I didn't mean--" Her eyes too noticed not only the pulse but the blood pressure earlier trending around 130/70 escalating to 180/98. Upon returning her gaze to Kel, she noticed beads of sweat forming on his forehead, then more on his face and neck.

"Kel?" She responded instinctively to the sudden feeling of.. presence? Moving over to his side, her hand went in his...208/100...pulse...150.

Dixie requested automatically, "Kel...if you can hear me...squeeze my hand."

216/102...162.

"Come on, Kel...squeeze my hand!" She stroked his cheek. "Not so much as a twitch."

"Wait a minute...look at this!" Joe opened Kel's eyelids to demonstrate brisk pupil movement. "His eyes are tearing."

Dixie looked from Kel to the chuckle arising from Sam's face as he announced, "Looks like our boy's coming home...!"

"Huh?"

"He's awake!"

"But he can't move! Why isn't he moving if he's awake?!"

"Debbie, get me an anesthesiologist up here on the double!" Sam barked over his shoulder.

**

Kevin Phipps, MD, had this little errand to run, and then he could start his vacation. Out of the kindness of his heart, he volunteered since things were pretty chaotic in the operating room. He had just finished intubating an nasty old man in the emergency room-it was crazy down there too-- who finally had 'the big one' after numerous and creative attempts at non-compliance with his family practice physician.

Mr. Otto Maddox...the man on the stretcher before him. Since he was headed to the ICU in escort of this patient anyway, he would take this consult, say what needed to be said and then be on his way to Fiji for two solid weeks.

"Mr. Maddox, you're going to be all right...you just need to relax and let me help you breath."

Otto folded his diaphoretic hands across his chest on which he embraced his toupee, returning a look of profanity for the capable anesthesiologist.

Kevin pulled out his ever present syringe of Valium, kept for just such occasions, inserted it into the man's IV port, then and pushed the plunger about half a cc's worth.

Hopefully that'll hold us for the rest of the trip, he thought as the elevator doors closed.

A few floors later, the drug had its desired affect, permitting ventilation to be performed more efficiently. Having won one battle his mind wondered toward what Sam Walstreet was in a quandary about...in a patient that was already 'tubed! This should be interesting...probably just someone who needs a little sedation to tolerate the damn ventilator.

**

The huge wide double doors banged open presenting the latest admission, Otto Maddox.

Out cold.

"Where do you want him?" Kevin asked.

"Park him in fifteen...took you long enough!" Sam snapped. "Two and a half hours is not 'on the double.'"

"Nice to see you too, Street! I'm fine...and you?" He heaved the bed into its receptacle where a preset ventilator waited.

"Save yourself for somebody else, Kevin. Don't get cute. I've had a long-ass day."

"I wouldn't waste my time or my 'cute' on someone as ugly as you. You're not my type, anyway."

Kevin gave a quick glance to his colleague. Noticing the disturbance in Sam's normally animated brown eyes, he hooked the piece of plastic to the circuit through which the designated amount of air would pass, hopefully improving Mr. Maddox's outlook.

"Thanks Kevin. We've got him. Why don't you go have a look at Kel while we get this guy settled." "Kel?! Again?!" Suddenly, Kevin understood Sam's look of monumental frustration.

Both men turned as the double doors opened once again.

"Here's his chart." Johnny Gage waved the metal folder. "Dr. Early finished writing the orders and an extensive history and physical." The paramedic handed Dr. Walstreet the binder to add to several other bulging volumes barely held together in their manila folders and rubber bands.

"Oh...thanks. Uh...John, right?"

"Yeah."

"John, this is Kevin, Kevin...John." Sam muttered upon opening the metal file.

John's enthusiasm dampened with the two gentlemen's solemn faces. "My other mission is to check on Doc Brackett..." He nodded his head, waiting for a reply.

When he was met only with shaking heads and sighs, the lanky man in blue followed the bearded Dr. Phipps to the patient of top interest and enigma.

"I'm headed over there now..."

The lanky paramedic in blue followed the bearded Dr. Phipps to the patient of top interest and enigma.

"Oh...sorry. John Gage." "Kevin Phipps, anesthesia-"

"Oh, I remember you...when we came through the OR to do tubes..."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'm surprised ...nobody ever recognizes us with clothes on," Said the man still in scrub, hat and shoe covers.

"Right." Johnny chuckled, a little nervous about the condition of his friend and he was not disappointed as he walked across the diagonal of the open hall.

"My god..." The paramedic's pace slowed as he approached the bedside. "What's wrong with him, Doc? He looks...terrible."

Aside from his hyperbolic vital signs, and sweating, Johnny noticed another development. "Why's he twitching?"

"Not sure." He pulled Kel's tremoring eyelids open while the tears poured from his eyes into his ears. "It could be a good sign, though, if he was flaccid before. His neuromuscular system is just begging to awaken. Judging by the vital signs...I'd say we have an awake, paralyzed patient."

"Hey, Street?!" he shouted.

"Yeah?" he yelled back.

"What have you been giving him?"

"Inderal, mostly."

Kevin rolled his eyes.

"I know what you're thinking, Kevin, but I didn't want to alter his fuckin' level of consciousness before you assessed him...and the neurologists were even busier than you were...so..."

"Mind if I give him some Valium?" Phillips shouted his request over his shoulder then looked over his spectacles to Johnny and mumbled, "We're lucky he didn't have a 'fuckin' heart attack!"

"Not at all..." came the reply. "Hey, you think we need PEEP on this guy?"

"Why not...start him on about seven and a half...if he tolerates it bump him up to ten..." Slowly, Phillips pushed the Valium, watching the monitors again...muttering to Gage. "Can you imagine...being completely paralyzed and completely awake? While I'm at it ...let's try some Tensilon too."

"Tensilon?' The curious paramedic questioned.

Sam answered while Kevin amused himself with his syringes.

"Tensilon...or Neostigmine...anti-pseudocholinesterase....a reversal agent for non-depolarizing muscular relaxants-paralyzing agents-- such as Curare, Pavulon, pancuronium or metubine..."

"Anti-pseudo...wha?!"

"Anti-pseudocholinesterase...--" Sam's sigh interrupted the lecture as he walked over to join Kevin and John. Glancing up at the monitors, Kel's vital signs headed toward more acceptable levels.

"Tensilon..." Sam said happily that the answer might be that simple.

**

"You know, Brackett, I probably didn't mean all those nasty things I said about you when I thought you were in a coma...and by the way...this coma thing...its a real Babe magnet! You have just about every nurse goggling over you in sympathy." Sam pushed his wad of gum threw his teeth and cracked as he leaned over the bedrail with his hands folded.

Kel rested his voice but raised his eyebrows.

"A certain ER nurse in particular..."

A humble smile formed across the patient's dry lips. That obvious, huh?

Sam closed his eyes and nodded. "Scared. To. Death!"

Kel's parched tongue, finally free of the foreign plastic tubing and bite protectors, coupled with the knives scraping the back of his throat, was impeding his articulation. "I gotta...I ...have to..." He sat bolt up right in bed grabbing the side rail with one hand and his throat with the other.

"Whoaa. Hold it, Cowboy, just settle down! We'll get you what you need, just settle back, slow down and tell me..."

He licked and bit his lips. Another cough escaped as Kel attempted to produce a sound.

"You need...what?" Sam waited. "Something for your throat...your throat's sore. Of course, given the way you ripped out the endotracheal tube, I'm surprised you still have vocal cords...."

Kel shook his head and swallowed. "I have...I want to..."

"You want...water?" Sam turned to the metal pitcher on the windowsill that had obviously been sitting there since he could remember grabbed it and yelled. "Chris? Our good doctor needs some fresh water with lots of ice...LOTS of ice...could you?"

"Sure, Dr. Walstreet."

"Oh...and wash it out first, God only knows how long it's been sitting there!" The physician returned his attention to his frustrated patient.

Kel coughed. "No... I need...to..." and coughed. To talk to her!!

"You need ...what? You need...ice chips? You need to get laid...? You need...?...What?"

**

"Hello, Emergency Room, Miss McCall."

"Miss McCall," Sam Walstreet delivered into the receiver delighting in addressing her by her formal name. Even on their one and only dinner date, he used her surname quite frequently and although she was taken by his southern charm at first, as the evening progressed she grew a bit weary of the courtesy. "Top of the evening to you!"

"Sam?" Dixie smiled in response to the physician's enthusiasm a tiny bit confused by the pause. "What's up?"

"Huh-uh," he gloated. "The question is...Alex, 'Who's up? And the category is..."

"Sam if you're joking with me this is in very poor taste and timing. We're swamped down here-!" Dixie was pacing with the receiver to her ear, frantically looking up and down the hallways for potential coverage that would free her long enough to run to the ICU for a quick visit. "Just...tell me!! What's going on--?" Her search suddenly interrupted by a wave of disbelief.

"Dix?" Croaked the threads of a familiar voice.

No, it couldn't be...he was completely paralyzed an hour ago... "Kel!?!"

"Hi, Dix." He said feebly and knowing he couldn't talk long merely said, "I love you."

Clutching the cord, she quickly glanced around and discreetly croaked. "I love you too!" Still surveying her privacy. "I miss you."

"Aw...Miss McCall. I miss you too -Honey-Darlin." Erupted a tease from the healthy voice of Kel's attending physician. Apparently, held by Dr. Walstreet, the receiver had been held to the patient's ear for a slight period of time but returned to his own ear in mid conversation.

Dixie would certainly investigate later.

"Sam Walstreet! It's very unprofessional to be eavesdropping on patient's private conversations...!"

"Sorry, Nurse McCall, but I didn't want to wear him out...having just returned from hell, he's pretty tired."

Even though Dixie could hear his Juicy Fruit clicking and cracking through the receiver, his glee charmed and softened the nurse on the other end.

"How--?" Don't look a gift horse, Dix? "When did you pull the tube?"

"Oh...I didn't. He pulled his own damn tube out. It's been out ab-ouuuut ..." Sam looked at his watch. "..a good hour now. Once we reversed the Pavulon he was as strong as a horse."

"Pavulon?!!! I don't understand... how?" Worry was again accumulating.

"Unfortunately, I'm gonna have to resort to the company line on this one. No clue."

"How is he otherwise?"

"I think he'd like for you to find out, first hand..." "Oh...you tell him, I intend to. The first opportunity I get."

"I'll see that he gets the message."

"Sam?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks. Gotta go--!" Dixie hung up never hearing Sam's valediction.

"My pleasure...Honey-Darlin'!"

***

"Rampart, this is Squad fifty-one."

"Rampart, be advised..." Simultaneously, came yet another distress call over the county dispatch radio relaying information of a mudslide involving a school bus; a disaster that would require extra staffing.

This is becoming more of the standard than the exception lately.

"Rampart, this is Squad fifty-one. Do you read?"

Dixie thought as she immediately dialed the attending administrator for physical assistance in making phone calls and pooling staff and resources. Other calls including Harbor General and Pavilion would have to be made.

Then, a quick page overhead. "Any available physician to base station...."

Followed by, "Fifty-one, this is Rampart, Go ahead."

She looked to the ceiling.

Kel was five floors and two corridors away...at the rate we're going, might as well be five mountains and two oceans. She shrugged and kept going.

**

Busy...busy...busy.

Dixie pushed the heavy treatment room door open to see Dr. Early's progress with an orthopedic patient.

"You'll never guess who I just spoke with over the phone?"

"No time for games, Dix." Joe hadn't even turned but was willing to listen.

"Kel's extubated."

"What ?" He stopped briefly, looked up, then continued wrapping the ace around the man's ankle..

"Yep...it's true. Great news, huh?"

"But..."

"I don't know the details either...I just know that Sam Walstreet put the phone receiver up to Kel's lips long enough for him to utter the words "Hi, Dix!"

"So...you haven't seen him?"

"We're standing-room-only, here, Joe. I haven't stopped long enough to sit down, much less--"

"I know."

The door closed behind her as she answered a plea from across the hall.

**

"Hey, Dix...where can we grab a free sink to wash up? My eyes are killing me." John Gage requested.

"Um...try the scrub room between three and five. I'll grab some towels for you in the clean utility room..." She found herself snarling at the soot that coated them and shivered at the hazard it must have presented to their lives. In their years of working together, she had never gotten over the danger to which they subjected themselves. "Help yourself...this place is a zoo."

"Once we get washed up if you could handle a couple more characters at your zoo, we could make ourselves available...we'd be glad to help out here..." Roy offered.

"Well...as long as your talking about being trainers and not animals...you're on!" She momentarily disappeared behind the door of the utility closet then popped back into the hall again carrying several white towels. Ducking into the scrub room she placed them on the shelf above the sink.

"Thanks for volunteering, Guys."

"No problem."

"Yeah...I have to drop the bio-com off down at the maintenance department anyway. It's been acting up lately. Think they'll give us a loaner?' Johnny inquired.

"Don't see why not..." Roy shrugged as he wiped his face with the towel.

Dixie beamed with a happy expression that reminded them of the good news they too had received moments ago.

"Oh---we bumped into Neil Brackett." Roy smiled not needing to finish.

"He has more of a spring in his step as well." Johnny grinned welcoming the cool water he splashed onto his face.

"He told you the good news then, huh?"

"Yes, he did." Johnny squirted the cream into his hands. "That is one happy father."

"Says Doc's lookin' great," Roy contributed hoping for Dixie to elaborate.

Dixie conceded with a sigh. "I wouldn't know."

"You mean you haven't seen him since..."

She shook her head. "Last time I saw him every muscle in his body was paralyzed."

"Boy, that was quick wasn't it?"

"Yeah..." Dixie could feel the uneasiness stirring deep with in her.

"So it was Pavulon this time...?" Johnny remembered his earlier interaction with the doctors in 'the Unit.'

"Guess so..."

"Well...how?"

"--Believe me as soon as I find out what's going on with him you'll let you in on it. I gotta run, Guys!"

**

Dixie's frustration gave way to resignation as the pace of the evening reached its pinnacle about five hours after her scheduled shift had ended, then began to slow. They had received fifteen of the seventy-two passengers, five of whom were injured seriously enough for admission. With her hand messaging her lower back as best it could reach, Dixie stared at the mountain of paperwork left over from the evening's activity that stood between her and a much-needed visit to Kel.

Wishing it away isn't going to work, Dix.

Fighting exhaustion and the desire to be with him for a simple conversation and reassurance, she decided against running up there that very instant. Far greater than the desire to go to him would be the need to stay with him once together. If she didn't do the paper work now...it wouldn't get done. However, caffeine was necessary to wade through the stack with any degree of lucidity.

**

"That's it." She said softly with a sigh. All that was left to do was deliver the organized stack of folders to medical records and the next stop would be...

"Can I help you with that, Miss McCall?"

Her relief turned to concern as she turned to follow the helpful voice that belonged to Chris.

"That's okay, I've got it. I think maybe Carol has something for you to do--"

He chuckled almost arrogantly. Collecting one of the piles of the folders, he fabricated, "That's funny. She's the one who sent me to check in with you to see if you had anything for me to do."

"Thanks." They walked to the elevator together. "And thanks for coming down to help us out."

"I just go where they send me." Chris shrugged and lied again.

"Well it was very much appreciated."

"My pleasure." He leaned into the 'down' button and waited.

**

Dr. Early handed Johnny the blood samples then dismissed him from the room. "You may want to check in with Dixie...I think things have settled down...maybe you can go home."

"I'll just run this stuff to the lab ...I have to stop on my way to Maintenance to see about the prognosis for our bio-com."

"Thanks, Johnny."

"No problem, Doc."

**

As the doors shut, he smiled at her. "So, I've heard Brackett's doing better."

A smile graced her lips. Careful, Dix. You're being read.

"Yes, so I've heard...Dr. Brackett is much better." Dixie's focus was already by Kel's side. Even her newfound distrust of the young man in front of her took a back seat to witnessing Kel back to normal.

"I wasn't sure there, for a while..."

"He confounded a lot of people..." "Yeah..." He continued. "I must have miscalculated..."

"What?!"

"-- I mean...I didn't think...well nobody thought he'd pull out of his first coma. I mean..." Chris moved in front of her. "Who could handle all of that mercury...not to mention a second helping..."

Her suspicions were being jolted to the forefront as she listened. "How did you know--?!"

"Oh...You'd be surprised Miss McCall---can I call you Dixie?---I know a lot of things." Dixie's anger clouded her sense of growing danger as the confirmation solidified that inches from her face stood Kel's would-be assassin.

**

Ten more seconds. If the elevator doesn't come...I'm taking the stairs!

The elevator doors opened only to reveal an empty container with buttons pushed for every single floor between the Emergency department and the Pearly Gates.

Well, Gage, I guess you're takin' the stairs.

**

"Yes, I know a lot of things...For example...I know you're hot for him." Chris tossed a quick smirk. "The sad thing is...so's he. There's no one who Kelly Brackett loves more than Kelly Brackett. Not anyone...not Rampart...not God ....and...not even you."

Grabbing her by the arm, Chris dragged Dixie into the nearest maintenance closet and shut the door. Dragging her heels, Dixie pushed against him only to lose her nurse's cap and a few painful hairs to the floor in the effort.

"Chris--!"

**

John Gage hated the basement.

As tired as he was, he whistled. It seemed to comfort his anxiety, while he pushed the metal bar releasing the heavy door to Rampart's mammoth inner workings. Distracting himself with its infrastructure, he considered the logistics of the foundation and its function.

However, overshadowing this diversion remained a menacing sense of desolation. With as many people that worked there, few if ever were present in the hallways. Rather they were stashed in cocoons of workplace compartments. He found the hollow hum of the generators to be eerie with foreboding. Just your imagination, John.

So he whistled his way to the lab.

**

"You deserve better than that Dixie...a true man...someone who can return the love you need to give...someone real and genuine..."

Chris, you have no idea what you're talking about!

He nodded his head slowly. "Oh...he gets the hots for you from time to time...I've been watching...I can see it! The way he looks at you...the way he wants you...I know the feeling."

"Chris, I think you're letting your imagination run away--"

"Am I?"

Instinctively, she began to back away, backing into a stack of loose boxes.

** Just your imagination, John.

The slight rumble striking John Gage's eardrums was barely loud enough to make him cease his piping. He did so none-the-less, only momentarily to assess for any further development.

Just your imagination, John.

With a shrug, he continued onward, whistling louder.

**

"Brackett thought nobody was looking. Well, nobody was! Meet a real, genuine, Mr. Nobody." He approached and reached out to rest his hand upon her shoulder.

Dixie defended, ducking away from his touch, both angering and enticing the man. "You're wrong! He holds you in high regard; he even sponsored you into medical school! How can you--?"

"How can I --?" His noxious laughter echoed off the cement. "How can you?!" His hands clutched her face, lifting her off of her feet. "How can you wait for someone...who knows you're waiting for him? He thinks nobody is going to take his girl...because she doesn't want to be taken...and you desperately want to be taken, don't you, Dixie?"

Chris had her backed into a corner and his lips were brushing her cheek as he spoke.

"Pathetic...isn't he? Let's show him, Dix. Let's show him how nobody's gonna take Brackett's girl. He's always considered me a nobody...a big nobody!" He chuckled. "Well...Nobody ...is going to take 'his girl.'" His tongue wiped against her cheek as he pushed a kiss on her. Out of instinct and rebellion, Dixie forced her face away from his as angry tears began to form.

"Stop it!" she hissed, struggling to get away, tripping and falling in the attempt. He straddled her frame holding her firmly in place.

"Nooooow, be nice to me," he admonished teasingly. "I see your tears. I know why you cry. I know what you need. ...and I'm gonna give it to you." Chris leaned over her, kissing her roughly. He began to pull at her clothing. "I'm the one who's going to take you away from all of this. I took Brackett out of your way...or I tried...I reduced him to the pile of mortality that his is."

"Chris..." She pushed but was a poor match for his muscular advantage. Up to this point, he'd been a logical person, priding himself on his intelligence...Maybe...? Try another approach, Dix.

"Chris...look! You're jeopardizing you're entire medical career---all that you've worked for-if you stop now...you'll have a good chance at receiving leniency...from everybody--think about what you're doing...!"

"Oh...I am. In fact, I've thought about...no dreamed about this moment for a long time..." The flush in his cheeks confirmed his direction. Rationalizing with him was futile. He was out of control.

"You're so beautiful..." He tried to kiss her neck, and was shoved away. "You're so beautiful...so perfect...I knew I loved you from the moment you said 'Hello'..." His next effort was stronger but still she battled. "I bet you wish he'd said that to you...don't you?" The third attempt overpowered her, digging at her windpipe with his chin. "I bet you wish he'd done that to you? Am I right?"

She glared at him.

"Am I right? And maybe....you wish he'd be a man and do...this?" His left hand raked and twisted her hair, practically fastening her face still before him, the other headed down her blouse toward the buttons that secured it. "I bet you have a wish list as long as my...arm. Don't you?"

She struggled and spat, but couldn't break free.

"Relax. I only want to please you, Dixie. I want to treat you the way...the way you should be treated."

"Then stop! Please!" Dixie was growing more fearful by the second. She couldn't get away...and she knew from his actions and the look in his eyes that he wasn't above rape.

"I think you're afraid you will enjoy this...so much that you'll never even consider anybody else ...ever again." His pleasure was becoming more and more evident. "So...relax."

Her resistance strengthened.

"On second thought...wiggle some more!! You're fun to watch!"

Dixie was certain, his sinister laughter bubbled from the same delight taken in the torment of Kel; a twisted pleasure whose source was pure evil. He continued to prove her hypothesis as he continued to badger her.

"Almost as much fun as feeding Dr. B. a little dose of humility." Why don't you go back to hell. "Somebody!!" She screamed and kicked. "Help--!"

"No...can't have that, now. That's going to cost you..." Chris clamped a hand over her mouth searching for a device to serve as a gag. "Or...is this part of your fantasy as well? I kinda like you this way too-" He silenced her words with his mouth as his hands ripped the buttons from her shirt and began to paw at her breasts. "I'll have you...one way or another..."

**

It was muffled and distant...but it was an unmistakable plea for help. Johnny's trained ear had listened to plenty of distress cries before. With his bio-phone in hand, he slowed his steps upon approaching a white nursing cap lying on the floor of a darkened corridor just outside the doorway of some kind of storage room. He bent over to pick up the wrinkled white object and frowned at its suggestion.

**

She kicked Again, barely gaining enough height to dislodge her perpetrator but enough to bang her shoe against the empty metal shelving that echoed even above the mesmerizing drone of the generators. Her teeth came together against the fingers that would silence her.

"You...!" He yelled, retrieving his hand from her jaw only to return it forcefully to her cheek.

"Ugh!!" She turned her face away and awaited the next blow.

**

The elevator doors opened and out onto the corridor of the Emergency Room rolled Dr. Kelly Brackett in a wheel chair powered by none other than Sam Walstreet.

"Well look who's here. It's about time!! Of course, just like our fearless leader to show up once all the work's done..."

"Hi, Joe," said the happy but weary patient.

"ICU air getting kinda stale, huh?" Instinctively performing an eyeball assessment of his friend's condition, he walked from around the counter.

"You might say that." Kel said with a weak voice as he began to survey the corridors.

Dr. Early observed. "Are you searching for anything or anyone in particular or are you just making sure our department is functioning in an orderly manner..."

**

"Ugh!!"

"Hey!" Johnny charged in through the heavy door, confused. "Chris?! What the hell's goin' on--?"

"Back off, Gage." Chris smiled with his shirt tail pulled out. "Hey...afford a guy a little privacy..."

"Get away from her!" Johnny could see the red mark on Dixie's cheeks from where she'd been slapped.

"Let us alone, Gage." He held the concealed knife in his pocket against Dixie's ribs. "She's enjoying this. She's into this as much as I am...right, Babe?" Chris pushed the concealed knife blade into her rib cage.

"Right." To Chris' blind side, Dixie's eyes contradicted her words. Johnny, please...help me.

"Dix?" Johnny spoke in disbelief.

"We've been at it now...for weeks. So just leave and forget you ever saw us. And we'll forget we ever saw you." The orderly instructed.

"I'm taking my cues from Dix, Chris. If she tells me to leave...I'll go."

Chris chuckled. "Tell him, Babe..."

"It's okay Johnny. Just go." Dixie did not plead.

"I don't understand...I thought..."

"Just go."

His eyes narrowed as he shook his head in disappointment.

Slowly picking up the biocom, he turned, flipped the light switch and closed the door behind him.

**

"Are you kidding?" Sam interjected. "He's lucky you're here or I'd have found the nearest cliff and pushed him off a long time ago. He's been giving me fits."

"Nice PJ's...navy robe." Joe teased. "You didn't need to dress up just for me...do I smell aftershave?"

"Just Brut."

"Yeah...mine." Sam cajoled.

"And Good Doctor, Walstreet...I'd venture to say that even your hair has seen a comb in the last few minutes..."

Sam nodded in concession. "Okay, okay...shut up, Joe we came to see, Dix. Sounds like you guys have been holding her hostage down here."

**

As the latch caught and the footsteps were heard retreating into the distance, Chris began to unbutton his shirt. Before he resumed his undertaking, he stood to lock the door retracting the knife and shoving it into his pocket. "Well...Babe. That performance wouldn't win you an Emmy but it was good enough for Gage--" Just as he reached for the lock on the door, the metal knob jammed his wrist as it flew open behind the weight of John Gage, who immediately blocked a punch then threw another one directed at the face of the orderly.

"Run, Dix!!"

Standing between the nurse and the paramedic, Chris pulled a knife, fully extended. "Get back and get out."

"Uh-uh." Johnny defied. "You don't really want to use that. Put it, away, Chris."

"You have no idea." Chris' eyes followed Johnny as he traveled obscuring his view of Dixie. He moved to get a better angle.

"Come on Chris...put the knife away...let's talk."

Dixie's scream filled the air a moment later.

**

Joe looked around. "Dixie was here not too long ago...oh that's right Johnny mentioned something about that. She was going to run the old charts down to medical records ... he said he saw Chris helping her into the elevator...and then run up to see...you." Joe looked puzzled.

"What?" Kel inquired curiously and with disappointment.

"Come to think of it that was about a half an hour ago...I'm surprised you haven't bumped into her..."

"You mean she's probably up there right now."

"That would be my guess!" Joe shrugged as Sam moaned, retreating with Kel back to the elevators.

"And they say chivalry is dead!" Joe laughed watching Dixie McCall's two suitors retreat unrequited.

Sam's voice could be heard from the desk as they headed toward the elevator. "I might have known. Brackett, you'll have to drug me before I even listen to one of your cockamamie ideas, let alone fall for one."

"Yeah, well ...if the truth were known, you want to see her too.

I think you still--" Kel reached for the 'up' button.

"--What do you say we go to the cafeteria...for some real food?"

"Real food? Street, you need to get out more..." No wonder there was never a second date...was there? Kel's eyes narrowed in contemplation then re-focused. "Uh...I'm not real hungry...I still have that metallic taste in my mouth."

Sam proudly pulled from his pocket his jar of homemade peppers preserved in vegetable oil and salt. "Ah! I carry this stuff with me all the time. This shit'll cure anything." He dropped it into Kel's lap for perusal as he advertised. "Bad food, bad sinuses...bad feelings...bad circumstances of any nature...just don't get it on your fingers."

"Thanks...The way my luck's been runnin' ...I'll have to keep a jar handy." He handed it back to Sam.

"My very prescription...I'll see that you get one."

The doors opened.

"Going up?"

"Hi, Chris."

**

"Rampart Base, this is John Gage...repeat Base station this is John Gage!" What?!

The urgency in his voice was alarming.

"Go ahead John," Joe replied.

"Look...Doc. I am in the basement locked in a maintenance closet with Dixie...she's been stabbed."

"What?!!" Joe and Roy exchanged glances of disbelief and alarm.

"Dixie's been stabbed...she's bleeding from a knife wound to the left midclavicular area--badly. She's still conscious but in a lot of pain. We're applying direct pressure but...just please send help immediately! Also be advised...Chris Trissot is the attacker and he's...somewhere probably still in the building...on the loose with a knife...I think he's still here in the basement but I can't be sure..."

"Roy, call the operator...tell her to enact security condition level four...basement. That'll seal off the basement and alert the staff without alarming the patients. Then grab some sterile dressings, some saline...an IV set up, some Ringer's...and maybe some O2 till we see first hand Dixie's level of injury."

"Right."

"Johnny, which one? Which closet are you in?"

"I don't know...we're in...the back hallway of a back hallway...somewhere between the maintenance department and the stairway."

"The back hallway of a back hallway," Joe whispered to himself. Well, that's helpful. The gray haired physician blew his bangs and pressed the button. "We're on our way."

**

"Security systems level four?" Sam looked to Kel upon hearing the overhead page. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Level four...in the basement? " Kel tried to remember. 'It means there's some sort of security emergency...in the basement."

"Well...no shit, Sherlock!"

Kel twisted to throw a wry smile to his physician.

Sam reached in his pocket for his gum. "I hope the security people know what the hell she's talking about--'

"In the basement..." Kel's thoughts were traveling back to their earlier conversation with Dr. Early. "Sam. Didn't Joe say that Dix went to Medical Records?"

He said he saw Chris helping her into the elevator...

"She's probably upstairs by now--" Sam grabbed the metal bar of the elevator carton as it began to slow. "What's goin' on? Why have we stopped?"

"Security level four...the floor and exits are sealed off...elevators too." Kel felt his neck muscles tense as he straightened, unable to shake the growing apprehension about Dixie's whereabouts.

"I'm sorry...I just... hate elevators." Sam apologized upon reiterating. "Damn. I hate elevators."

"I hate when people whine about elevators." Kel looked to his colleague then muttered.

"Damn. The basement. I wonder what the problem is."

**

Roy accumulated the assigned paraphernalia and grabbed for the metal door leading to the basement from the stairway. Locked already. The only way to get in would be from someone opening the door from the other side.

"Hey!!" He pounded on the door and yelled.

"Hey...anybody?! This is an emergency! I'm a paramedic...there's a seriously injured woman in there! Please...I need to get in there!"

Come on... He prayed and pounded.

**

Johnny removed the rag that was controlling the bleeding...upon its, removal more bright red blood gushed through. Damn...he must have hit an artery.

"Dix, please...just rest back! I can't control the bleeding if you keep fidgeting!"

"Johnny...I can...I can hold this. You need to catch Chris!"

"I can't. The door's locked from the outside."

"They've got to get him before he tries again!"

"Tries what again?"

**

"Chris, you were just down there...did you see anything strange?" Kel asked trying to ease his growing fears. But Joe Early's words and voice would not leave him...

He said he saw Chris helping her into the elevator...

"Uh...no," he responded breaking his silence. "Maybe this is some sort of...drill."

"They wouldn't stop the elevators cold for a drill." Kel conjectured.

"Damn...I hate elevators." Sam chuckled and chewed as he pushed the unlit buttons nervously.

**

At last. The sound of footsteps running and keys jingling down the steps. Roy stood at the end of his patience, thankful to be greeted by Joe Early and a security guard. The paramedic stepped aside to allow the security guard who was fumbling with the key ring, access.

There's gotta be at least...twenty five, thirty keys on that ring. I hope he doesn't have to guess.

**

"We've got to get out of here and warn--" Dixie's lips were getting numb.

Johnny grabbed Dixie's other shoulder and looked into her eyes.

"Dix. I did. I did. Joe Early's got everything under control...they're gonna find Chris and catch him..."

"He's the one..."

"Shhh...save your strength!"

"No. Ow."

"Dix," Johnny cautioned in frustration. As she squirmed, the bleeding got worse. "Plea--"

"He poisoned Kel. He put gave him the mercury--twice! And the Pavulon too. He wants him dead...please, Johnny, get on the phone and tell them to put security guard at Kel's bedside...something--anything! He's gonna kill Kel!"

**

"Well...damn. This is just a lovely turn of events." Sam confabulated as the lights went black. "Damnity damn damn damn! I understand why the floors are sealed. I can even understand why the elevators and exits are secured...but why the lights? Can somebody please give me a solid reason why the lights just went out?"

"No...you're right...this doesn't make sense." Kel was becoming uneasy.

"Is that part of the security plan too--?" Sam's filibuster was silenced unnaturally and abruptly, followed by the shuffling of a struggle...pulling Kel to stand.

"Street?" Kel turned futilely in the blackness. "Street?!...Chris?"

Black silence.

**

"Please, Johnny. I can hold this." She was becoming increasingly pale, her respirations increasingly rapid, but took over holding pressure on the rag as Johnny struggled with his better judgment.

"Base station...this is John...Base station do you read...this is John, come in please!" Thinking he heard motion in the hallway, he dropped the receiver and ran to the door. Thank God! "Hey! In here!" he screamed.

**

"Chris can you tell if Sam is okay?" Kel felt his way to the metal side rail of the elevator, as his feet tripped over a mass on the floor.

The blind uneasiness of before had escalated to a foreboding threat.

**

Johnny returned a glance over his shoulder to assess Dixie's situation only to find her quietly deteriorating. He ran back and stooped beside her. "Aww...Dix?" He gently slapped her already bruised face. "Dix?" Her eyes attempted to focus on him. "Dix? Come on...hang in there, honey."

"I'm...okay...I just...need to...rest."

Johnny lifted her chin. "I'm not gonna let you go out on me." The paramedic overcame his apprehension and pulled up an encouraging grin for the hero in his arms; the rest of his strength was used to maintain the pressure dressing.

"I...won't..."

"Promise?"

"Cross...my heart," she whispered, struggling to keep her eyes open.

**

By now the silent darkness confirmed Kel's qualms. Sam had no reason to remain silent; it wasn't something he had chosen to do. Something had come over Sam and Chris had provoked it. The orderly with them in the elevator had much to do with whatever went on in the basement. Kel also surmised that Chris was aware of the doctor's suspicions. The question entered his mind: Could this orderly be responsible for the attempts on his life.

Black silence.

**

A thunderous knock on the door attracted the attention of Roy DeSoto. "Hey!" He called to the security guard and Dr. Early.

"Over here!!" Roy pounded in return. "Johnny?"

"Roy?! Yeah, Roy! Hurry, she's getting worse!" He felt himself discharge a sigh of relief, running back to Dixie. "It's gonna be okay, Dix. The cavalry's on its way!"

Roy's hands shook as he attempted to subdue his anger. Again with the keys.

**

Black silence was Kel's only answer. It would be his only weapon...and his only defense.

A voice from the darkness spoke. "She...was one ...fine...conquest...Kel."

What ?! Stay silent, Kel.

"Yes...of course, I'm talking about Dixie..."

Kelly Brackett refrained from clenching his fists that his position might not be given away; instead he closed his eyes and battled the daggers of anger.

"Am I telling you something you don't already know?" Chris mocked.

Hold it together, Brackett. Don't even sigh...just hold it together!

**

"Have...they found...him yet? Have they...found...Chris?" Dixie grimaced wearily as Joe removed her blouse the rest of the way for better exposure.

"Shh! Roy...give me those four-by-fours please. Get that IV going."

"Right. Pulse is about...110 and thready."

"Joe?" Dixie pleaded.

He shook he head frustrated with her persistence. "I haven't heard if they've located him or not...they haven't to my knowledge."

"Ow!" She bit her lips. "They...have to find him...in time...he'll..."

"In time?" Joe pressed hard on the dressings to stop the bleeding, looking to Johnny for clarification.

"She thinks Chris poisoned Dr. Brackett." Johnny informed him.

"No...don't think...I know...he did it. He...told me!"

**

"You...ever been there with her, Brackett? I'm sure you've made it to first base...maybe even second or third..."

Keep talking, Chris. Your voice is a source of irritation...but also orientation.

"But I'm talkin'...there...with her, Brackett. I'm talkin' home run." He laughed. "I did. In fact, I'd say it was a grand slam...I made sure...everybody crossed the plate."

Don't listen to him, Kel. He crouched and leaned against Sam. Hold on to him, God...just a little while longer... To his relief, he could feel the occasional movement of a breath. The next prayer was for Dixie.

"You know, she has...the most...warm, sweet, smiling lips...beautiful buttery, soft skin...just kinda melts right in your mouth...doesn't it?"

Keep talking, Chris. You're only distracting yourself.

Just don't turn on the lights yet...

"Not to mention...ample breasts ripe for the savoring---and angel blonde hair--as a matter of fact, I think I still have a few clippings in my pocket...sliced off a lock for my scrapbook...yep!"

Kel cringed. Sliced...he's got a knife! God, what has he done to her?! Is she lying somewhere, bleeding to death?

Don't listen to him.

Kel quietly shed his cumbersome robe and wrapped his pajama top around his left arm for protection.. Ignoring the cold floor against his bare chest, he maneuvered his way on the floor to where he hoped was a point of advantage. However, he found himself swimming in...

What the...? Sam's damn pepper oil!!

The orderly flipped the light switch again to catch the physician's reaction only to feel the force of Kel's powerful legs as his bare feet delivered a blow against Chris' windpipe, knocking both to the floor. The physician was the first to stand, deliberating quickly whether to scramble for the loosened knife or pin his adversary.

As Chris continued to recover his own airway, Kel lunged for the protective weapon, only to feel the full weight of the orderly.

Kel clutched the dagger, knowing full well that if the elevator did not begin to move soon, he would have to initiate an offensive if he and Sam were to survive. Wait! If Dixie is badly injured, Chris may be the only one who could tell me where she is...

The split second of interruption cost Kel his position of advantage and it was now Chris who held the knife to the surgeon's throat.

"She was really good, Brackett...really good..." Chris' voice squeaked and spit into Kel's ear as the blade sliced against his oiled skin.

"You can stop me ...if I'm telling you anything you already know...."

"Where is she?!" Kel pleaded hoarsely still wrestling for the lead in spite of the metal held to his chin.

A weak cough from Sam distracted them both. The first to refocus would walk away from the elevator. He who hesitated would not.

**

The security guard opened the doors from the stairway to the Emergency corridor. Refusing Roy's offer, Johnny carried Dixie's weak, exhausted frame up the steps while Roy served as the IV pole. Joe Early heaved a weary sigh as he secured the pressure to Dixie's dressing.

Passing the evacuated waiting area, escorted by a police officer, a very concerned Neil Brackett slowed his gait, looking on in shock. "My God...Dixie?!"

"She's gonna be okay, Neil." Joe reassured over his shoulder as they hurried along. "Let's take her in Five, guys."

**

The elevator doors opened to a worried Neil Brackett standing in the buzzing corridor outside Treatment room five. Kel instinctively read his father's expression--and given what just transpired in the elevator deduced the rest.

"Roy, can you give me a hand with Sam? He's had quite a blow to the back of the head."

"Sure." He parked the wheelchair beside the two gentlemen and assisted the physician to standing as Mike Morton directed them into a vacant treatment room.

Sam eyed the young physician in charge of his care, giving a prolonged side-glance to Kel. If it isn't Dr. Protocol.

"You're in good hands, 'Street'."

"Well...well. I know I'm in good hands...this man goes by the book! You raised him well, Kel." Sam scratched at the ringing in his ears and shook his head. This man probably has a protocol for when he takes a--

"--Give this man some drugs would you please, Mike?" Kel pleaded happily, obviously chomping at the bit.

"Ahh...sure. Anything in particular, boss?"

"Anything to shut him up!" Kel inspected the bruise on the back of Sam's Walstreet's head. "How 'bout an ice pack, Carol?"

"Carol?"

"Huh?" Blushing and wide-eyed, Carol pulled her gaze away from the glistening portrait of tanned masculine perfection in front of her. Dix, you lucky... "Oh...Yes, Doctor."

"He was out for a good ten minutes. Better get a full skull series, and--"

"I got it covered, Boss. You just tend to yourself." Mike pointed to the slight laceration on Kel's neck, inspecting it as he guided him out of the treatment room, wrinkling his nose with a facial contortion.

"Thanks, Mike."

"Ugh!...Kel, you smell like a hoagie...?"

Kel never heard him...he was already halfway down the hall.

Mike turned to the physician in the wheel chair. "So Kel really hit him with a jar of peppers??!"

"As true as I'm sittin' here..." Sam chuckled. "I have witnessed a miracle. I never prayed so hard in my life...might as well...couldn't do much else...there I was... abject flat out on the floor of a stuck elevator in the pitch black, with a man who intended to kill the two of us. God had my attention I was just hopin' I could get His."

"Sam...how did you get peppers in your hair...?!"

"Fallout from when the Former Flaccid Wonder hurled my jalapenos at the perpetrator You should have seen the face off...in this corner weighing 285, eats Ford Pintos for breakfast...and holding a six inch genuine switch blade that could remove the tonsils from a giraffe-Chris Trissot! And in this corner weighing a solid 208 pounds, just recovering from a comatose couple of weeks in the Intensive Care Unit and packing a jar of home-made habanera sauce...Dr. Kelly Brackett...oh God...my head hurts...!"

**

The police officers cuffed the unconscious orderly, also smelling like the local delicatessen, before placing him on the stretcher.

"He can go in one with Larkin," Kel ordered.

"What have you got, Kel?" Dr. Dan Larkin scrutinized the scantily clad colleague.

"He's got a gash on the back of his head, and a stab wound in his right groin...by the looks of things it's arterial...sorry."

"Not half as sorry as he's gonna be." Dr. Larkin followed his new patient into the room. "Thanks, Kel."

**

"She's in there, Son."

Kel looked to his concerned father before entering the treatment room.

"Your mother would have a fit if she knew you were running around the hospital in your bare feet with nothing but those paper thin pajama bottoms sticking to your thighs like a lollipop wrapper."

Pausing briefly to acknowledge his father, Kel heaved a sigh of relief, knowing someone must have informed the man that Dixie was doing okay.

"Joe says she's gonna be okay." Neil placed a reassuring fatherly squeeze on Kel's greasy shoulder.

To his pleasure, he saw his son grin.

"He says they've stopped the bleeding."

"Thanks." Kel's smile widened as he anxiously turned to shove the door open.

"Oh, Son?"

"Yeah, Dad?" Kel patiently turned again to his father's voice.

"Never mind." Neil sought his pockets for his handkerchief or anything to wipe his oily fingers and headed to the lounge whistling for the first time in a long time.

I wonder if he realizes...he's covered with oil and smells like a cheese steak?

**

Oblivious to the fact that he was cold, well-oiled, half naked, his lower half wrapped in a cotton cloth a tad more substantial than a paper bag, Dr. Kelly Brackett entered the treatment room focused on the woman lying on the procedure table. Aware only that his skin tingled with the intensity of a jar of habanera paste, he heaved a sigh of relief, taking cues from the relaxed, happy faces around her.

As he approached Dixie's side in his bare feet, Joe comforted him with a smile.

"She's gonna be okay. It was a pumper but a couple stitches took care of it. We're sending a hematocrit but I doubt she'll need any blood. Some fluid, antibiotics...a lot of rest. She'll be good as new." The air in the room was a bit thick for Joe's Early's comfort, finding relief as he eyed his good friends garb.

Go ahead, Joe. You're a physician...it'll be therapeutic. "I hope you didn't dress up on my account." He couldn't resist as he grimaced. "New cologne?"

"Just don't say anything about his hair...he'll really get upset," Dixie said pleasantly trying to stay awake.

As her sunken eyes finally met his, she could feel a smile cross her features. "Hi."

Kel grinned although he could feel his heart pounding and was still winded. "Hi."

"Nice to see you vertical. We were worried about you," she scolded.

"Well...I guess we're even now."

**

Dixie was grateful this day had finally arrived. It had been only thirty-six hours since her injury but she had vehemently argued her desire for discharge, to which her physicians reluctantly succumbed. Traveling down the quiet corridor stuck her keys in her purse then heaved against the heavy door of room 321. Pushing or twisting aggravated the pain in her shoulder but the intensity passed within a few minutes time the rest would be controlled with a Darvon tablet when she got home.

"Dix, I told you I was gonna take him home," Joe scolded looking up from his perch at the foot of Kel's bed.

"Huh-uh!" Sam Walstreet chimed. "She's here for me."

Sam caught her by the forearm and pulled her onto his bed. "Dix! Honey...darling! Take me to bed or lose me forever!"

"Sam," Dixie scolded with a grimace then smiled, enjoying his sentiment--and minted breath. "At the very least, you're entertaining but...you're driving me crazy."

"Well...Honey-Darlin' you drive me to distraction...now if we could just get in the same vehicle maybe...we could take each other to the same destination?" he boasted with shameless flirtation.

Dixie rolled her eyes that sparkled. "Got any gum?" She teased.

"For you? Anything." He continued.

"But ...it's in my top drawer, and I can't reach it in my weakened condition...you'll just have to roll over top of me and--"

"Forget it." She shook her head and winced.

Kel gave a side-glance to Joe; upon catching her discomfort then returned his focus to Dixie, reminded of her ongoing convalescence as well. Lady, when I get you home...be ready for some heavy duty TLC.

"Still hurts, huh?" Sam asked, relaxing his squeeze. His eyes surged with concern as well.

"A little...only when I laugh."

"Why don't you just take me home instead...I'll take good care of you." Sam winked. "Besides...Brackett's already got a date." He alluded to the white haired physician perched on his buddy's bunk.

"That's the thanks I get for saving your life," said Kel.

"Well...Kel..." Sam sang gleefully as he chewed. "I saved yours...twice."

He continued to gloat. "Of course, my life is probably worth a lot more than yours...so I suppose that makes us even."

Sam leaned in close to Dixie and whispered out loud for all to hear. "And..." he tormented, "...I've um...seen him in his skivvies. Pitiful! Poor guy doesn't have much under the hood...if you know what I mean."

"Walstreet, when was the last time you or anyone else bothered to even lift yours..." Kel commented tucking his shirt and grabbing his suitcase.

"Come to think of it...Kel-Baby...I really did mean all of those nasty things I said about you when you were in a coma!"

"Enough of the locker-room limericks, Gentlemen! In case you've forgotten...there is a lady present." Dead silence followed the comment coming from the man who was a wellspring of brash boyish banter and colorful crude quips.

"Thank you, Joe." Dixie scowled at Sam...then blushed, gave him a quick peck on the cheek and stood, joining the two about to depart.

"That, my darling, is the best medicine I have received since I've been a patron of this institution!"

**

After a brief debate about who was in better shape to drive, Dixie reluctantly relinquished her keys to her suitor in dark wavy hair, khaki's and navy polo shirt. Joe followed Dixie and Kel to as far as the parking lot of Dixie's modest apartment complex then waved as he headed for his own residence.

**

With her analgesia, peroxide and sterile dressings in one hand, and a tall, cool iced tea with lemon and sugar in the other, Kel headed to the bedside of his patient.

"Your medication..."

"You're an angel." She smiled gratefully as she tossed the tablets to the back of her tongue and chased them down with a gulp of tea.

Kel's look was intent as his skilled hands pulled back her blouse and then the dressing. He then studied her lesion. "Looks clean...healing nicely. A few more millimeters south and he would have nailed your lung..." He quelled a ripple of anger as he pictured a large man overpowering her and raising a knife with intent to harm her. No need to relive it for her now, Kel. She'll talk when she needs to. Get over it.

"I know...I know." She grimaced a little as the peroxide in the irrigation solution crackled into her wound, and then the physician tenderly replaced new dressings over the injury. "Kel."

"Mm-hm..."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"This is gonna sound strange, but I've been wondering...with Chris...then Sam..." She stopped and squirmed slightly in frustration. "Well...is there something I'm doing wrong...am I sending messages?"

Kel looked up at her in surprise. She's serious.

"What am I...?"

"Nothing," he cut her off before she could go any further. "It's not you. Not exactly."

"What?"

"Dix..." How do I say this without it sounding trite, oversimplified? "...true beauty is a very...powerful force."

Oh, brother... "Force?" Her head plopped back on the pillow.

"Like a magnet." He shrugged and sighed. "Now even in the average...normal... state of male equilibrium..."

"If such a thing exists."

"...it has a tendency to tickle...a few synapses...turn a few heads..." he paused, thinking of all the times at Rampart or in restaurants when other men had stopped to cast surreptitious glances at Dixie. She never seemed to notice, but he had. He'd tried to curb his baser, more neandertalistic tendencies and not swagger the rest of the way to their table or grunt 'mine' as he followed her into a treatment room. "...Bring out the more primitive..."

"Adolescent?" she offered, beginning to see where Kel was going.

"...that works," Kel nodded. "Competitive behavior...territorial...trying to impress the female..."

"Kel, are you suggesting that Sam's - and Chris's - behavior can be explained by the fact that they're male?"

He reached down to take both of her hands in his. "No. I'm suggesting that some of Sam's and my own behavior can be explained," he grudgingly admitted, displeased with some of the retorts he'd made to Sam in Dixie's presence. "Dix, some women just have the ability to cause all higher brain function to cease momentarily, and we end up acting like...cavemen."

"Cavemen?" Kel, only you could come up with an evolutionary argument for the socially challenged male.

"Okay, dorks then. Dix, Sam's just jealous. He had his chance and he blew it, that's all. I don't think he's really trying to make you uncomfortable, I don't think he even realizes that he does."

"But what about Chris? Kel, I never treated him any differently than anyone else."

"Chris is an entirely different kettle of fish. In a state of aberrancy, there's no way to predict, or probably even understand, behavior. He saw something, someone, that he wanted and decided to get it. But Dix," he paused, making sure that he had her full attention, "it wasn't your fault. You're not responsible. You didn't do anything wrong."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely. Nothing you - or I - did justifies his actions."

She dropped her eyes, looking at their entwined hands in her lap, then looked up at him through her lashes. "Thank you."

"Anytime. Feel better?"

"Yes, though shouldn't I be the one tending to you? You're the one who just had an extended stay in ICU."

"We'll take turns. You can take care of me tomorrow," he suggested with a lingering kiss. "Today, let me appreciate the fact that I'm just damn lucky to be around to tend to your every whim." He flipped on the bedside radio then gently tucked another kiss on her lips. "Now that I've had a look at your shoulder, scooch over..." Kel lay down beside her; carefully working his arm around her to share her pillow.

In gratitude, perhaps for all he'd suffered on her account, she asked, "Anything else you'd like to 'have a look at'?" Dixie playfully bit her lip but her overall expression argued the case of a weary woman who hoped her offer would go unaccepted.

"Plenty. But right now I'm satisfied simply holding the woman I love. "

A smile at his understanding graced Dixie's lips.

"It's my observation that you've had your fill of being pawed over, and I've spent the last few days trying to overcome the desire to kill a man who wanted to touch you when and where you didn't want to be touched. I would be no better man if I pursued my... desires...when I knew you weren't ready..."

"Your desires? Care to elaborate?"

"At length...when you're ready. I want to give you what you need...not just fill you full of me." Satisfied that the tear streaming down her smiling cheek was one of contentment, he smiled in response. "I love you, Dixie."

"I love you, too." Dixie nestled against him and rested her head contentedly on his shoulder. "By the way...."

"Yes?"

"I think Sam might need glasses...." She dragged her index finger lazily along Kelly's cheek.

"Oh? Why?" He enjoyed the attention; he turned and caught her fingertip playfully between his lips.

"It's fairly obvious that you've got plenty of horsepower under your hood."

S' awfully nice...S' paradise...that you should care...for me.