by Ashley Jade
There's just something about that condescending smirk that I really want to wipe off that perfectly structured face of his.
“Thinking.”
“Do you always make it a habit to do your thinking while you stand on the ledges of buildings in the middle of the night...crying?"
Now...I was annoyed.
“Maybe I do. I was having a very personal moment. Why does it matter to you? Who are you anyway? Why are you even up here? How did you get up here in the first place?"
He gives me another smirk as he reaches over and pulls me closer to him.
I instinctively let out a small gasp and attempt to halt him by pressing my hand to his chest.
His very broad chest.
In retrospect, that was probably a bad idea.
Underneath his sweatshirt...was a clearly defined rock solid body.
His eyes lock with mine as his hand skims down the length of my body until he reaches for something in my coat pocket.
Or rather, his coat pocket.
He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
Well... at least that answers one of my questions.
He takes a step back, lights his cigarette, and closes his eyes.
He’s the one who appears to be in deep thought now.
“That's a terrible habit you know,” I say after he opens his eyes.
“Thank you nurse...I'm aware.”
Crap...he must be a patient sneaking out for a smoke.
“Shit. You're a patient. You most definitely should not be smoking. Please, put that out so I can return you to your bed. I'll let this one slide, but this is a non smoking facility."
He stares at me hard before he takes another drag off his cigarette. His expression appears amused now.
Which of course...only makes me angrier.
I reach over, pull the cigarette from his mouth and stomp it into the snow.
“Okay wise guy...lets go.”
He gives me another cocky smirk. “I'm not a patient. I'm here visiting someone. A family member had a stroke. I don't smoke regularly...but I do when I'm stressed. However, you most definitely can return me to my bed. In fact...I look forward to it."
My cheeks flush with his statement...then I realize.
He must be a long way from home.
He has the faintest hint of a southern accent.
“You're not from around here are you?”
“New England? No. I live in New York City.”
It was my turn to arch my eyebrow up at him. “Nope. There's something else in that twang of yours. Something southern. You certainly didn't grow up on the East Coast...that's for sure."
He gives me an odd look then. A mix between annoyance and surprise.
“Are you an investigator as well, Nurse? I grew up in Texas. I left when I was a teenager. Hardly anyone picks up on my accent anymore. I'm surprised you noticed it."
“I'm a nurse. It's my job to notice things. I'm sorry to hear about your family member by the way. I don't work on the ICU unit, but if there is anything that I can do for you, please let me know," I say as I take off his jacket and hand it back to him.
I feel his eyes on me as I turn around and make my way to the door.
“You could tell me your name...and give me your number,” he calls out.
“Nope...sorry,” I say as I turn back around to face him.
He gives me a curious look then. “How did you know my family member was in the ICU?”
“Well, for starters, you're obviously not from around here...that means that whatever happened to your family member was serious enough for you to warrant a trip here. You also claim not to smoke unless you're stressed. Again...that tells me that whatever is going on with your family member must be serious. Plus, you're on the roof. Not many people come up here, especially when it's snowing outside. You obviously needed some time alone to think.”
“You're very observant. I'm impressed,” he says, his expression puzzled now.
I shrug and give him a feeble smile.
“What's your name?” I ask.
“Tristan.”
“Well...it was nice to meet you Tristan. Happy Thanksgiving,” I say as I turn around and go inside.
Chapter 2
I walk into my apartment and glance at the clock on the wall: 11:50 pm.
I sigh as I pull out my turkey microwave dinner and stick my fork in it.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I say out loud to absolutely no one.
I can't believe I actually considered jumping off the roof tonight.
The last time I ever considered suicide was when I was 16…after.
No, I can’t let myself think about that.
God, how have I sunk so low again?
I should be happy and grateful.
Most kids don't even make it out of the system unharmed...let alone go on to become productive members of society.
I put myself through school and pushed myself to the limit with hopes of ending up with the exact life that I have now.
Why wasn't I happy?
All I ever wanted to do was help and take care of others.
Why wasn't that enough?
Why did it feel like something huge was missing?
Why do I still have this burning desire to find them?
It shouldn't matter.
I sure as hell didn't matter to them.
It's not like finding them would magically help me find myself.
Nothing would help me find myself.
I rub my temples before I finish the rest of my poor excuse for a dinner and fall into bed.
I have to be back at the hospital in another 6 hours.
It was time to get some sleep.
***********************
By the time I make it into work the next morning the snow had turned into a full blown blizzard.
The roads were a dangerous mess.
Thankfully, I only lived a block away from the hospital.
I change into my scrubs and make my way to my unit: 2 North.
Otherwise known as the psychiatric unit at 'New England General Hospital.'
The psych unit at this hospital was the main reason I moved here in the first place.
It was the best one on the east coast.
I spend the first two hours of my shift passing out medication to my patient’s while simultaneously attempting to calm their fears about the current blizzard.
As I’m returning my med cart to the med room, my pager goes off.
Shit. Code Red on a psych unit was never a good thing.
I run down the hall and make my way to the atrium that I was called to.
Three police officers were holding a very large man who struggled against them...even though they had already cuffed him.
I look at the doctor and the rest of the team and wait for my orders.
“New admission. Highly agitated and violent. Family reports he is schizophrenic and hasn't taken his medication in several weeks. 50 mg Thorazine IM Stat,” Dr. Newburg calls out as the patient begins to fight harder against the officers.
I sprint back to the med room and draw up the dose of medication.
When I walk back, he’s even more erratic.
The officers lose their grip on him and form a large circle around him, attempting to corner him.
This was never going to work if they couldn't even manage to handle him.
I grab a styrofoam cup and put the needle in it before I walk over to them.
The last thing I needed was for him to see a needle and start freaking out even more.
“Hey. What's your name?” I ask in a calm voice.
He proceeds to ignore me as he spits in the face of one of the officers.
I look down and notice there’s a comic book lying on the floor beside him.
“So, you like the incredible hulk, huh?” I ask as I take another step towards him.
That seems to get his attention.
He turns around to face me. “I like him too
. He's my favorite actually,” I say.
He appears much calmer now. This is good.
I give him a warm smile before I speak again. “What's your name?”
“Hulk,” he says as he looks down at the floor.
“Well, it's nice to meet you Hulk. Look, I know things are a little scary right now. I'm a nurse and I'm here to help you. I have some medication that will make you feel better. Will you let me give it to you?"
“Okay,” he whispers as he drops down to the floor and holds onto his comic book.
The officers appear alarmed, but I wasn't worried.
The poor guy was probably exhausted from all the adrenaline and struggling.
I look at the doctor. He nods his head indicating that it’s okay for the officers to remove the handcuffs.
I focus on Hulk and give him another smile as I sit beside him on the floor.
I point to the cup in my hand.
“It's in here. You might feel a little pinch Hulk, but I promise I'm not actually trying to hurt you. Do you understand?"
He shrugs as the officers uncuff him.
I roll up his sleeve and quickly inject the medication as another nurse comes by with a sharps container.
Unfortunately, that's when one of the officers decide to come over and snatch the comic book away from him.
“This has to go back to the store that you stole it from,” the officer says sternly.
Less then a second later the Hulk transforms again and starts throwing punches.
I hear the doctor cuss under his breath and call another code red.
“Look, I'll pay for the damn comic book. Okay,” I shout as I attempt to get between the officer and the patient while we wait for backup.
That's when I feel the powerful blow of a fist through my eye socket.
Dammit. That's definitely going to be one hell of a shiner.
On the bright side, Hulk immediately looks apologetic and stops fighting the officers.
“I'm sorry,” he mumbles as the aides take him away to his room.
“Jesus. Dev are you okay?” Dr. Newburg asks.
“Yeah I'll be fine. I'll grab an ice pack from the med room.”
I reach into my pocket, pull out a twenty-dollar bill and hand it to the officers.
“I believe this should cover it,” I say crisply before I turn and walk away.
Chapter 3
7 hours later and the blizzard had already brought us well over two feet of snow and showed no signs of stopping.
Everyone who was still here...was now officially mandated.
They were also beginning to switch everyone's work assignments around to make sure there was enough coverage on the other units.
I stupidly assumed I would be remaining on my beloved psych unit.
As I was swapping my thawed ice pack out for a new one, I hear the footsteps of my nurse manager.
“They need you over in the ICU.”
Shit. I hate the ICU.
You never knew what you were going to get hit with.
There was no point in complaining though. It was not the time or place.
“Okay,” I respond.
I put my ice pack down and walk over to the elevators.
As the doors to the elevator close I see my reflection and almost laugh.
Yup, the Hulk got me good.
My black eye was very apparent...and hideous.
There wasn't enough cover up in the world for this baby.
************************
I begrudgingly walk down to ICU.
The only positive was that working in the ICU meant that I would only have three patients.
“So who are my patient's?” I ask Sherry, the nurse manager on the ICU unit.
When she finally glances up from her pile of paperwork, she looks horrified.
“What happened to your face?”
I shrug. “Psych patient thought he was the incredible hulk. Turns out he was.”
“Shit Dev. Thank god your patient is still in a coma,” she mumbles as she shakes her head.
Why would that matter?
I was about to ask, but she rushes me into an empty room and pulls the curtain around us.
Privacy at its finest.
“This is a very important patient Dev. So important that he is your only patient for the rest of the storm. I know, I don't usually cater to bullshit like this. However, it's not everyday that the CEO of the hospital is a patient of ours. Good news, is that he's relatively stable and he only has one family member with him...his son," she says before she opens the curtain and walks back out.
Shit...this was the last thing I want to be dealing with right now.
“What's his diagnosis? I mean, Sherry. I'm a psych nurse. Surely there are other nurses in this hospital that will be much more suitable for this," I protest as she put her hand up to stop me.
“Look, I don't make the rules. You were requested specifically. He's in room 8 down the hall. The big private suite. You should head there now," she says dismissively before she turns back to her pile of paperwork.
Rules? Requested specifically? By who?
What the hell?
I walk down to room 8.
I don't see any sign of his son, but sure enough...Duncan Blake, CEO of the hospital is currently lying in a hospital bed hooked up to anything and everything.
I immediately check his vitals to see how he’s holding up.
Then, I open the laptop to find out what his diagnosis and treatment plan are.
Man...the poor guy had a stroke in the middle of Thanksgiving dinner after recently finding out that he had a brain tumor.
He can't see me, but I give him a sympathetic smile as I re-position his pillow.
“Turns out someone had a worse Thanksgiving then I did. I'm sorry to hear that Mr. Blake,” I whisper before I’m interrupted.
“Is that why you were so upset last night?” a deep voice calls out.
I recognize the faintest hint of southern twang in the voice immediately.
“I'm sorry, but you're not allowed to be in here Tristan. This is a private room. Please leave,” I say sharply as I turn around to face him.
When I do...I’m beyond stunned and confused.
He was no longer wearing a sweatshirt and jeans.
He was wearing a business suit. A very expensive designer business suit at that.
Jesus...it should be illegal for a man to look that smoldering.
I bite my lip so my jaw doesn't hit the floor.
I notice that he seems to be just as bewildered by me as I am him.
In fact...he actually appears downright pissed off now.
This is strange.
He marches over to me, grabs my hand and walks us over to the other side of the large room.
“Who the fuck did that to you?” he growls as he focuses his intense blue eyes on me.
I can't help but let out a laugh. It’s my first real laugh in months.
He doesn't appear to share my amusement.
“Oh, this thing?” I ask while pointing to my eye.
He folds his arms in front of his chest and narrows his eyes at me.
I stifle a giggle. “This is from a patient earlier. It's nothing. I'm fine, really.”
His expression changes from one of anger to concern.
“What? You mean to tell me that a patient did this to you? Where the hell was security?”
I sigh. “I work on the psychiatric unit. Black eyes certainly aren't a daily occurrence...but it's the nature of the job. Now, you really need to leave Tristan. If my patient’s son comes in and sees you, it's going to look really bad..." I start to say before he cuts me off.
“I am your patient’s son.”
There isn't enough glue in the world to stop my mouth from hanging open at that moment.
Oh god.
My mind flashes back to everything that he witnessed last night.
The ledge...the tears.
He thought I was a psy
ch patient for crying out loud.
This had to be the most embarrassing moment of my life.
Then, I remember that Sherry had said something about her not making the rules and me being requested specifically for this assignment.
I put my hands on my hips and narrow my eyes at him.
Well...my good eye.
“You sent for me. You requested me. You used your power to manipulate the situation...and me.”
He gives me a cocky smirk. “Perhaps I did. You really should have just given me your name and number."
Now, I’m infuriated.
“Look. I know you grew up as some over-privileged rich kid who thinks that they can just boss people around...but you can't do that to me. What you did was wrong. I have boundaries Tristan. I'm sure there are plenty of other nurses who wouldn't mind doing whatever it is that you want. Go find one of them. Have a good night. I'm going back to my unit. I don't care who your father is, leave me the hell alone,” I snap before I turn on my heels.
“You can't leave. You are mandated to be here for the remainder of the storm,” he barks as my hand reaches the doorknob.
Oh this asshole.
“Yeah? Watch me.”
I turn back around to give him a cocky smirk of my own.
That's when I hear a big boom, followed by pitch black surrounding me.
What the hell just happened?
Chapter 4
“Are you okay?” Tristan's voice echo’s throughout the dark room.
“Yeah, I'm fine. But why are we in the dark Tristan? This is a multi-million dollar hospital. Shouldn't all the back up generators be kicking in right now?"
“Yeah, they should be. Let me find out what's going on,” he says as I see a flash of light flicker from his cell phone.
That's when it hit me.
“Tristan, your father is hooked up to all sorts of machines. If the power is off...then he's not connected to his machines. No one is connected to their machines," I say, the panic rising in my voice as I feel around and walk over to Mr. Blake's bed.