Broken Glass
Kelly decided that the best thing about this whole godforsaken mess was that he could sleep in for a good half hour and still get to work on time. He wasn't too sure who was scheduled when anymore, but he thought he was supposed to be with Joe all day, and he didn't see Joe's car along the row of parking reserved for ER doctors. Kel parked in his marked space and scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and checked his watch. He was half an hour early. Just enough time to grab a glass of milk and something to settle his stomach before starting the day's work.
Carton of milk in one hand, and a couple of packets of crackers in the other, Kel ducked out of the deserted cafeteria and tried to bowl his way to his office. There weren't many people sitting on the patio, which meant he'd stick out like a sore thumb if he tried to take his breakfast there, and that meant any and everyone would probably want to invite themselves to sit with him and chat about things that he wasn't quite ready to think about, much less discuss. So he practically ran through Emergency with his meager meal, head down, hands up by his collar. He'd made it all the way to the damn lobby, literal steps from his office door, before he was sidelined.
"Kel!" Mike Morton's sharp, clear voice cut through the low level din in the wide hall between base station and the small lobby area. "Kel, you're back!"
Kel paused and looked in the direction of Mike's voice. He was relieved to see that no one else he was particularly close to was hustling through the halls with Dr. Morton, but his relief soon turned to dismay as it became obvious that Mike was going to invite himself into Kel's office to chat for the next half hour. "Not officially," Kel said, and looked pointedly at his watch.
Mike didn't take the hint. He crowded Kel's personal space, and leaned on the wall right next to Kel's office, like he was gonna just plant himself right there and talk Kel's head off. "Hey, did you get everything taken care of?"
"What?"
Mike chuckled. "Your emergency. We were all pretty worried about you, Kel. Everything's okay now?"
Kelly's temper began to flare at the intrusion, but he grit his teeth and swallowed down his rage. "I'll put it like this: the situation is stable, but critical."
Mike's smile faltered a little, softening from the joyous, mischievous grin to something more sympathetic. "Ah. Well, listen, anything you need, we're here for you. Just say the word."
Well whoopty-fucking-doodle-doo. "Thanks, Mike, but I don't know that there's anything anyone can do."
Morton nodded seriously, and then seemed to notice the milk and crackers in Kel's hands for the first time. "Breakfast of champions, huh?"
Kel smiled tightly, and fervently wished for some medical brouhaha to whisk Mike away from him. He really wasn't in the mood to explain hangover food just yet. "It's better than nothing, right?"
"Well, sure, Kel, but maybe I can grab you something that'll really keep you going-"
"I've got a stack of papers this high waiting for me this morning, Mike, and I've got morning rounds first thing, so..."
Mike blinked and straightened up. He looked just the slightest bit wounded by Kel's sharpness, but he shook it off and clapped Kel on the shoulder. "I'll be here all morning. Welcome back," he said, and headed back towards the base station.
Kel stood and glared daggers into the intern's back until he was sure Mike wasn't going to turn around and try to break into the office as soon as Kel turned away. All the same, Kelly entered his office backwards, scanning what he could see of the Emergency Ward with wary eyes before quickly shutting the world out. He locked the door and plopped down on the low green couch next to it, dropping the crackers and milk on the smooth seat like they weighed a ton. His head felt like someone had been using it for a battering ram, his tongue felt like cotton, and his belly felt like someone had poured foamy acid straight down his gullet. He regretted, not for the first time since waking, using that jerk salesman's wad of cash to buy a giant bottle of cheap bourbon. The booze-induced sleep he'd chased after had been slow in coming, and quick in leaving. The hangover from Hell, on the other hand, that'd been plenty quick in coming, and showed absolutely no indication of ever leaving Kel again.
He peeked at the clock on the wall. Less than twenty minutes left before he had to be able to function. Reluctantly, Kel fumbled with his crackers and milk, and shoved everything in his mouth at once, nearly choking on the dry crumbs before the milk turned it all into a salty paste. He gulped it down and curled up on his side and furiously blinked away a sudden fresh well of angry tears.
What the hell was he going to tell everyone when they started asking him questions? Why the hell had he spouted off to Morton that way? Now there was no way to downplay the mystery that kept him out of work. Unless he told everyone the problem was with Stan's family... sure, he had to see Stanford off for a few days while things were up in the air, but Kel would get by alright.
Except if that was the case, then there was no reason Kelly couldn't have come into work. Maybe there was an accident? Yeah, that could work, Stanford had been in an accident... except that Joe Early was friends with several people at Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center, so he'd know right away if Kel or Stanford showed up there.
There was a knock at the door, and someone tried the knob. Kel glanced at the clock - his shift had already started! He jumped to his feet, and instantly regretted the sudden movement. He waited for a long moment for his head and stomach to quit battling for his attention, then went to the closet to put on his lab coat.
Kel heard another knock, followed by Dr. Early's worried voice. "Kel, you in there? I saw your car..."
Kel gritted his teeth against the intrusion in his personal space - yes dammit, his car was in the lot, and yes, he was obviously in his office, and yes, he was a few minutes late, but so what? Why all the damned hounding? "No, Joe, I'm not here," he snapped and yanked his office door open. "You're hallucinating, I'm a figment of your imagination."
Joe smiled, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Boy, Dr. Morton wasn't kidding when he said you were in a mood today. I wanted to find out if you wanted me to take over your morning rounds, so you could catch up on your paperwork."
Kel's irritation gave way quickly to remorse. He felt like he was on the edge of an emotional meltdown that would bring half the LACoFD right to his office door. He tried to smile, to show his appreciation for the gesture. "I... no. Thanks. Sorry." He paused to try and get a handle on the English language. "I really appreciate the offer, Joe, but... I think I need the routine, you know? The patients will make me feel better." He half believed they really would, and suddenly he couldn't wait to start his rounds. "But if you want to take over the paperwork, I-"
"Nope!" Joe practically ran from the office, but he paused and waited for Kel to catch up, so they could check in at base together. "If I wanted to do paperwork I'd be running a private practice, remember?" Kel knew he was supposed to laugh, but all he could really work up was a watery half smile. Joe sighed and gave him a friendly nudge in the arm. "You know, we had a disaster of epic proportions yesterday, but we managed to just make it through. I know you want to visit the patients, but you don't have to jump right back into the grind if you need some time-"
"I'm fine," Kel snapped. He clamped his jaw shut, before he said something insulting, and focused on slowing his breathing. "I'm fine, Joe," he repeated a little more gently, and forced a smile.
"You don't seem fine. I'm not trying to kick you out of here, but we'd rather you take one of those vacations you so abhor than suddenly disappear from the face of the-"
"Look, I'm sorry, Dr. Early, but sometimes unavoidable shit happens and blows your perfectly manicured routines sky-high," Kel said, struggling to keep his voice down. "I'd have thought that with all the hours you put in at a goddamned emergency ward, you'd understand that!"
Joe stared for a minute, just long enough for Kel to squirm under the scrutiny. "Sure I understand that, Dr. Brackett," Joe said. "I also understand that once the emergency has happened, victims have to start making allowances for recovery and relapses. They're not supposed to just jump back into their old routines, no matter how much they really want to."
Kel's necktie was suddenly too tight. He yanked it loose, decided he didn't want it at all, tore it off his neck and stuffed it in his pocket. "You're a fantastic neurosurgeon, Joe. Don't quit your day job."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're a terrible psychologist - I don't know what you call yourself intending to do, Joe, but right about now all I want to do is knock a hole in the wall with my bare fist."
Joe sighed and headed past the base station, towards the elevator. "From what Mike said, you already wanted to do that."
"So then why antagonize me?"
"Wasn't what I set out to do. I apologize." The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open. "Feel better, okay?" Joe got in the elevator and turned back just in time for Kelly to see Joe's usual good natured little smile before the doors closed. Kel grit his teeth and looked around, half expecting to have to defend himself against some other nosy do-gooder, but if anyone had noticed the argument, no one was letting on.
Kel stalked down to the observation rooms around the bend, and checked on several still sleeping patients. He was glad they hadn't been awakened for their breakfasts or morning medicines - he wasn't quite up to the task of dredging up a proper bedside manner, not after doing battle with Joe and Mike. He started to feel guilty for barking at them, but the guilt just made him more resentful. He hadn't asked them to butt into his affairs, and he was a grown man, dammit. He knew perfectly well when he needed to stay home and lick his wounds, and when he needed to be at work - obviously he knew that, since he'd stayed out the day before!
He finished with the non-admits and headed to the elevator, to follow up with some of the admitted patients still in critical condition. He paused at the nurse’s station on the third floor, asked for the charts for yesterday’s most grievous admits, and stalked down to his first charge.
He checked his chart before stepping in, and what he read made him pause. Female, approximately 15 years, complications from smoke inhalation and massive trauma to the legs and trunk. A fire victim - when they were admitted to the hospital, that usually meant awful injuries, and they almost never came in small batches. He flipped through the paperwork and sighed. Several victims, most of them young, probably the same age as Stan's - Kel forcefully turned away from the unwanted memory and struggled to put on his best neutral doctor face. When he was sure he’d gathered all the composure he could hope to muster, he pushed open the door and stepped into the girl’s room.
The chart had painted a dire picture, but the poor child in bed made the chart read like a spring sonnet on uppers. Her golden brown skin was mottled purple and black on her face and exposed left leg. The right leg was plastered from hip to toe and held high in traction. She was intubated from here to Sunday, and lay still as death. Only her chest moved, and that was in perfect rhythm with the artificial respirator.
For just the briefest moment, the heavy mantle of guilt settled hard on Kel's chest, and threatened to squeeze the life out of him. He had no illusions about his dispensability on the job - he knew that any doctor qualified to work at Rampart General Hospital was as capable of rendering this girl the best possible care the County had to offer as he - but that didn't absolve him of his personal responsibility to the patients that came through those doors. He was in charge of the emergency ward - his place was here. This child had needed care, and he'd been wandering the streets on some bender, wallowing in self pity.
Snap out of it, Kel. Self pity came in about a thousand forms, and this was no better. He shook himself and put all thoughts of yesterday's leave out of his mind. The past was gone, and there was only the here and now to think of. Just like he often told his patients and their frightened families, what happened before is less important than what you do now. Now, he was at work, with a patient in front of him who still needed care. Time to focus on moving forward.
He checked the girl's vitals and checked them against the last taken measurements, ordered a change in her pain medication and made notes to have her checked for further swelling. Satisfied that he'd done some good for the girl, he patted her free hand and turned to leave.
A slight moan escaped the girl's lips, and Kel turned back to see if she was coming to. She was still asleep, but where her features had been fairly lax when he first came in, now her brow was furrowed in pain. Kel patted the girl's hand again and winced at her hoarse whimper. He brushed the back of it more gently, growing alarmed when she ground her teeth at the touch. He went back to check the girl's chart, and found no evidence that any x-rays of her arms had been taken. "Looks like we dropped the ball on you, sweetheart," he said quietly, and made a note to have her reexamined immediately.
The small discovery made him nervous - what else had been missed while he was out? He resumed his rounds with a sense of trepidation, half fearful that he'd find some poor soul dead in their bed while the staff went on about their business as if nothing were wrong. He didn't find any other terribly drastic situations anywhere else, however, to his relief.
He returned to the base station, intending to corner Dixie and find out what went wrong with the girl and her hand, but he drew up short at the sight of the curious and concerned gazes of several orderlies, nurses, and even a couple of doctors. They turned their eyes from him, not quickly, like they'd been caught staring, but deliberately, as if to give him the privacy they all knew he so desperately desired.
Warmth flooded Kel's face. He ducked down and powered through the throngs of concerned staff, all thoughts of professionalism be damned. He shoved his way through a rapidly filling waiting room, burst into his office and slammed the door hard enough to shake the bookcase next to it. He didn't care. He stomped to his desk and sat behind it, and struggled with his desire to send the few items on his desktop flying to the floor. He settled on the compromise of standing up again to yank off his lab coat, ball it up, and hurl it across the room. It unfurled on its way over the desk, and landed in a not quite balled up heap on the couch.
He sat down heavily, winded as if he'd just run a marathon. His head spun, his ribs ached, his mouth tasted like pickled cotton balls, and his legs felt like melted rubber. Kel wanted to curl up in a corner and close his eyes for an eternity or two, but he knew he had responsibilities. He could come undone once he was off the clock. He'd already spent too much time indulging himself in hysterical dramatics. He glanced at the charts still in his hand, and thought about the girl on the third floor, and renewed his resolve to get back to work.