"Dr.Weaver.. He's waking up."
Dave struggled to yawn and stretch, his head fuzzy and heavy. He opened up his eyes blearily and saw Kerry standing over him. "Chief.." He said softly as the doctor slipped her hand in his.
"Hi Dave.. How are you feeling?" Kerry Weaver, asked concerned.
"Like I was mugged.." Dave said hoarsely.
"Yes.. We have a policeman outside wanting to ask you a few questions, but I told him to bugger off till we got you settled into your own room. Is that okay?"
"That's okay.. H-how's everyone downstairs??" Dave said quietly, trying to get off the topic of muggings and killer clowns.
"They're fine Malucci.. All worried about you. I stuck Carter with your boils and sutures.. He seems quite upset." Weaver said, with a small comforting smile.
"Oh I bet.. How's Lucy?" Dave asked worriedly.
Kerry sighed and brushed the hair out of Dave's eyes. "Dave.. Honey.. Lucy's dead.. She has been for about a year now.."
He stared at the blankets and watched his toes wiggling at the end of the bed. "Dead? The.. Stabbing??"
Kerry nodded slowly, still running a comforting hand through his hair. "Yes.. Dave.. She died in the stabbing last year."
She's dead.. Dead.. The message... On his answering machine.. How? Dave swallowed slowly trying to absorb the information. "Can you hand me the phone?"
She sighed. "We don't have phones here in recovery Dave.. I'll make sure there's one in your room. Are you okay, Malucci??"
He nodded slowly, all he wanted to do was check his messages. To see if he'd imagined the message on his answering machine. Lucy's voice reaching a frightened fevered pitch as noise started to drown her out and the phone went dead. The background noise had been a cross between a loud bar and a three-ring circus, breaking glass and horns and cackling laughter.
If Lucy hadn't been on the phone.. Then who had been?
Dave closed his eyes and Kerry stood up, adjusting the meds till his tremors from the pain subsided. "Sweet dreams, Dave.. I'll see you in your room.." Weaver left the room, brushing past Cindy in the doorway, who stood, staring at all the machines connected to her boyfriend.
"It'll be okay Cindy.. He's out of danger now.." Weaver said gently.
"It's... It's my fault.." Cindy whispered softly. "I..If I'd been home..."
"They found him at the pier with hamburger.. Porn, condoms and there was a smashed bottle of whiskey on the ground. Was Dave planning anything special??" Weaver replied, cocking a brow.
"My... My birthday.. I don't know, Dr.Weaver.. The girls took me out for a few pints.. He said he had to work a long shift..."
Kerry sighed and handed Cindy a kleenex as tears rolled down her cheeks. "It's okay honey.. It's not your fault. Maybe Dave was taking something as simple as a shortcut.. It's not your fault what happened. Dave's okay now, anyway. We're just monitoring his condition and making sure he's not allergic to the anethesthetic."
Cindy pointed at the various tubes.. "What's that?"
"Chest tube.. One of the stab wounds nicked his lung.. That's helping reinflate it.. Helping him breathe.." Replied Weaver quietly. She knew what everything did.. She knew why it was there. What she couldn't understand is why it was all hooked up to one of her best residents. Why HAD he been out there in the middle of the night with four pounds of hamburger, porn and booze?
"What about that one??" Cindy pointed at one that peeked out from under Dave's gown.
"It's draining his wounds.. Excess fluids.." Kerry swallowed and looked away briefly. It was easy to do this most times.. But this was Dave... He shouldn't be in that bed.
"That one?" Cindy pointed to the various IV poles.
"That is giving him medicine to help him sleep, that one there is antibiotics to fight infection, and that one is replenishing his lost blood supply." Finished Kerry, rubbing her eyes.
"Oh.. Okay.. Can I go in??" Cindy started for the bed, and Weaver held her wrist. "Not now hon.. Let him sleep, we'll move him into his own room soon, then you can see him.. He's okay.."