Ninety-Nine Years

A hospital emergency ward, curtained off beds clustered around a central desk area.  Wes and Alastair, follow an orderly rolling an unconscious middle aged woman on a gurney to one of the beds.  The woman is on spinal trauma protocol, her neck and back immobilized until doctors can assess her injuries.

They’re quickly joined by Dianna Smythe, the nurse coordinating emergency admissions.  Even in the middle of a long shift she’s still immaculately put together.  She’s a striking beauty with youthful skin and indigo eyes.  Her regulation scrubs don’t do her toned, graceful body justice.

Dianna asks, “The last one from the accident?”

“As far as I know.”  Alastair sighs wearily.

She turns to Alastair, gives him the once-over, “You’re new here.”

Dianna, Wes, Alastair and the orderly each take a corner and carefully transfer the accident victim to the bed.  Alastair glances covertly at Dianna as they work, mesmerized by her confidence.  Dianna nods, dismissing the orderly.

Alastair answers, “Just relocated from Chicago.”

Wes notices the spark between Alastair and Dianna, “I’ll go get ready for another run.”  He turns his back on his partner, closing the curtain on his way out.

Dianna looks to her patient, “ID?”

He responds with a note of frustration. “The firefighters didn’t find any.”

Her nonchalant reply, “She’s now Jane Doe number four.”

“Busy night?”  He asks, driven by genuine curiosity.

She takes another look at the new guy.  “It’s always a busy night.”

Neither of them can think of more small talk, she decides to move on before things get awkward.  As she turns to squeeze out of the area skin brushes against skin, a chill runs down her spine.

Reflexively, she reaches out to him feeling his forearm.  “You’re so cold.  Maybe someone should check you out.”

“That wouldn’t be a good idea.”  Alastair’s defenses are up.

She moves to check his pulse.  He tries to slip out of her reach but she hangs on.  She tries to joke with him, “Don’t tell me you have white jacket phobia?”

Alastair responds, “It’s easier being on the listening end of the stethoscope.”

She nods in understanding.  He finally relents to her touch.  They’re quiet as she feels his pulse; she focuses on the second hand of her watch.

Dianna looks at him with concern, “Your pulse is 98.  Rapid, borderline tachycardia.”

His defenses are up, “It’s normal for me.”

“You must have ice water running in those veins.”  There’s a surprising hint of flirtation in her voice.

He gently pulls his hand away from hers.  “Sometimes I wish that was true, my life would be a lot easier.”

He leaves her alone to wonder what the hell just happened.

***

The ambulance rests in an area away from the emergency room entrance designated for cleanup and loading.  As Alastair approaches, he notices Wes in the passenger seat, a distinct look of annoyance on his face.  Alastair quietly slips behind the wheel.

Wes gives his partner a dirty look.  “Flirt with the nurses on your own time.”  His serious look is disrupted by a spasm, and then another until he rolls into laughter.  “Just messin’ with ya.”

Before Alastair has a chance to respond the dispatch monitor lights up with another call.

Copyright 2009, Wendy Pierce