Safe Haven - Part 3
Oct. 30th, 2007 12:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
diandrahollmanTitle: Safe Haven
E-Mail: diandrahollman@yahoo.com
Website: http://diandrahollman.tripod.com/index.html
Rating: PG-13 to R for language and violence. One brief NC-17 scene at the end.
Keywords: Crossover, Alias/X-Files/Lost, slash, Vaughn/Mulder, Jack, hurt/comfort, angst
Spoilers: Only if you never watched season 5 of Alias or any season of Lost.
Disclaimer: All characters from The X-Files belong to Chris Carter and 1013. All other non-original characters belong to JJ Abrams and Bad Robot. I will put most of them back when I'm done with them, but I can't make any promises about Vaughn. The nurse is mine; any resemblance to the coroner on CSI: Miami is purely coincidental.
Author's Notes: This is basically the fourth of “The Detox Series” that was supposed to be a trilogy. You could probably follow without reading the first three stories but it doesn't hurt to read the last one (Serenity) at least. You can find them on my website (above).
E-Mail: diandrahollman@yahoo.com
Website: http://diandrahollman.tripod.com/index.html
Rating: PG-13 to R for language and violence. One brief NC-17 scene at the end.
Keywords: Crossover, Alias/X-Files/Lost, slash, Vaughn/Mulder, Jack, hurt/comfort, angst
Spoilers: Only if you never watched season 5 of Alias or any season of Lost.
Disclaimer: All characters from The X-Files belong to Chris Carter and 1013. All other non-original characters belong to JJ Abrams and Bad Robot. I will put most of them back when I'm done with them, but I can't make any promises about Vaughn. The nurse is mine; any resemblance to the coroner on CSI: Miami is purely coincidental.
Author's Notes: This is basically the fourth of “The Detox Series” that was supposed to be a trilogy. You could probably follow without reading the first three stories but it doesn't hurt to read the last one (Serenity) at least. You can find them on my website (above).
Previously
***********
(St. Sebastien Hospital)
Even though he was barely conscious, Vaughn struggled to walk with me as I half-dragged him into the hospital.
"I need help," I begged the nearest person in a hospital uniform. No sooner were the words out of my mouth than Vaughn collapsed, his dead weight dragging me to my knees as I tried to slow his fall to the unforgiving tile floor.
Everything became a blur of activity after that. Vaughn was lifted onto a gurney in seconds and wheeled down a series of corridors as a nurse asked me what happened, whether Vaughn was on any medications, how much GHB he ingested, when his last meal was, et cetera. I had to practically jog to keep up with them, answering her questions between panting breaths. 'I'm getting too old for this shit,' I thought.
I followed them into the ER, flashing my badge when one of the nurses started to protest and giving her some bullshit story about Vaughn being in federal protection and not allowed out of my sight. I watched helplessly as they hooked him up to heart monitors and IVs, their progress hampered by an occasional spasm in his limbs.
Hands on my shoulders pushed me to one side suddenly, and a new voice muttered an "excuse me". A dark-haired man in a white lab coat brushed past me.
"36 year old male, overdose of GHB mixed with alcohol," a nurse fired in the doctor's direction as he approached Vaughn.
"Intentional," he asked.
"His partner thinks somebody tried to kill him."
The doctor put on his stethoscope as she talked and listened to Vaughn's breathing. "He's going into bradycardia. I need 10 ccs of atropine, norcuron and an Ewald."
A nurse ran to get the requested items, nearly colliding with another doctor in the doorway. This doctor was older, his demeanor more relaxed but no less intense than the first. He moved to the other side of the gurney and addressed the first doctor.
"I can handle this one, Jack, take a break."
"I've got it, Dad, thanks," Jack said shortly, his jaw clenching.
The nurse returned and held out a syringe for Jack. He snatched it and injected the contents into one of the tubes attached to Vaughn as his father continued his attempt to reason with him.
"Jack, you've been working for ten hours straight, you need to rest."
"I've got it," Jack snapped, finally looking up at his father, his eyes practically shooting fire. His father left reluctantly, giving Jack a long-suffering look on his way out. Jack looked at me as if noticing for the first time that I was in the room. "Could somebody get him out of here," he added.
One of the nurses pushed me out the door into the stark white hallway before I could say anything in protest.
******
I paced the hall restlessly for what felt like hours before Jack emerged from the room.
"Are you here with Mr. Delorme," he asked. Luckily Vaughn had gone over his alias and cover story with me a few times in case of an emergency.
"Yeah," I said awkwardly, trying to sound like something other than a frantic lover. "Fox Mulder."
He held out his hand. "Jack Shephard. Mr. Delorme is stable right now. We pumped his stomach and gave him liquid charcoal to absorb the remaining GHB. If we got to him in time, he should be fine, but you should know there is still a risk that he could lapse into a coma."
'Gee, thanks, doctor,' I thought sarcastically. 'Do you talk to all of your patient's loved ones like this?'
He glanced down the hallway. "I need to ask you some questions, can you come with me?"
"Yeah, sure," I mumbled, still a bit thrown by his crude people skills. I followed him into an office - his, according to the plaque on the desk and the certificates on the wall. The room was an odd blend of warmth and impersonality. There was very little color, aside from the picture of a smiling blonde on his desk. The medical degrees on the wall were offset by a picture of a fighter jet. It seemed so out of place that I had to wonder if it held some significance for him or if it's purpose was merely to take up wall space.
"How well do you know Mr. Delorme," he asked as I sat down.
"Are we talking family history or 'boxers or briefs'?"
Jack just frowned at me.
Okay, no more jokes then. "Well enough."
"Has he had any problems with alcohol in the past? Any alcoholism in his family?"
Well, I suppose some people would consider me a "problem" but... "I don't know much about his family, but I've only seen him drink a couple times - once to intoxication."
Jack scribbled something on an official looking piece of paper. "Were you with him when he was dosed with GHB?"
Ah-ha. The ultimate purpose of his line of questioning was revealed. He wanted to rule out the possibility that I had done this to Vaughn. A drug-assisted rape gone wrong or something to that effect. I couldn't be offended though, since the first person to respond to an emergency is often the perpetrator. God help me if Jack decided to do a few X-rays and found all his healing broken bones and whatever other scars he may have gotten or he might think Vaughn was a victim of domestic abuse. "Yes."
"Did you see who might have done it?"
"Yes. I shot him."
Jack faltered, his face registering equal parts alarm and disbelief.
"In my defense, he tried to shoot me first," I said lightly as I flashed him my badge.
Jack shifted in his chair and cleared his throat, obviously thrown by that answer. "Okay...uh...do you know why someone would want to kill him?"
"I can't go into the specifics, but I can tell you that they see him as a threat. They probably used GHB because they wanted his death to look like an accidental overdose or attempted rape gone wrong." I was vaguely surprised that I was able to speak so calmly about it while Vaughn was still in danger of dying. Maybe that hadn't hit me yet.
Jack finally stopped writing and looked up at me, his eyes conveying the warmth and sympathy he seemed to have difficulty putting into words. "Does he have any family we could contact?"
"Just me and Kate and she should be on her way here right now."
"Kate?"
"Kate Jones. She's a co-worker and his best friend." Luckily Vaughn had instructed me on this too.
Jack nodded. "How close are you to Mr. Delorme," he asked.
"Well, I only met him about a year and a half ago, but I'd say I've gotten to know him pretty well, biblically speaking."
Probably not the most tactful way to put it, but it was worth it just to see the look on Jack's face.
"I volunteered to be his protection detail. I wouldn't trust anyone else to do whatever it takes to keep him safe."
Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, uh...I think that covers it." He pushed back from his desk and moved to stand.
"Can I see him?"
Jack hesitated. "It's still touch and go. Right now we're watching to make sure his body doesn't reject the treatment. He's probably feeling pretty sick right now and he's going to be incoherent for a while..."
"I don't care," I said firmly.
He smiled for the first time in the twenty minutes or so that I had had the opportunity to observe him. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but that seemed more a product of exhaustion and frayed nerves than insincerity. "All right."
Next chapter
***********
(St. Sebastien Hospital)
Even though he was barely conscious, Vaughn struggled to walk with me as I half-dragged him into the hospital.
"I need help," I begged the nearest person in a hospital uniform. No sooner were the words out of my mouth than Vaughn collapsed, his dead weight dragging me to my knees as I tried to slow his fall to the unforgiving tile floor.
Everything became a blur of activity after that. Vaughn was lifted onto a gurney in seconds and wheeled down a series of corridors as a nurse asked me what happened, whether Vaughn was on any medications, how much GHB he ingested, when his last meal was, et cetera. I had to practically jog to keep up with them, answering her questions between panting breaths. 'I'm getting too old for this shit,' I thought.
I followed them into the ER, flashing my badge when one of the nurses started to protest and giving her some bullshit story about Vaughn being in federal protection and not allowed out of my sight. I watched helplessly as they hooked him up to heart monitors and IVs, their progress hampered by an occasional spasm in his limbs.
Hands on my shoulders pushed me to one side suddenly, and a new voice muttered an "excuse me". A dark-haired man in a white lab coat brushed past me.
"36 year old male, overdose of GHB mixed with alcohol," a nurse fired in the doctor's direction as he approached Vaughn.
"Intentional," he asked.
"His partner thinks somebody tried to kill him."
The doctor put on his stethoscope as she talked and listened to Vaughn's breathing. "He's going into bradycardia. I need 10 ccs of atropine, norcuron and an Ewald."
A nurse ran to get the requested items, nearly colliding with another doctor in the doorway. This doctor was older, his demeanor more relaxed but no less intense than the first. He moved to the other side of the gurney and addressed the first doctor.
"I can handle this one, Jack, take a break."
"I've got it, Dad, thanks," Jack said shortly, his jaw clenching.
The nurse returned and held out a syringe for Jack. He snatched it and injected the contents into one of the tubes attached to Vaughn as his father continued his attempt to reason with him.
"Jack, you've been working for ten hours straight, you need to rest."
"I've got it," Jack snapped, finally looking up at his father, his eyes practically shooting fire. His father left reluctantly, giving Jack a long-suffering look on his way out. Jack looked at me as if noticing for the first time that I was in the room. "Could somebody get him out of here," he added.
One of the nurses pushed me out the door into the stark white hallway before I could say anything in protest.
******
I paced the hall restlessly for what felt like hours before Jack emerged from the room.
"Are you here with Mr. Delorme," he asked. Luckily Vaughn had gone over his alias and cover story with me a few times in case of an emergency.
"Yeah," I said awkwardly, trying to sound like something other than a frantic lover. "Fox Mulder."
He held out his hand. "Jack Shephard. Mr. Delorme is stable right now. We pumped his stomach and gave him liquid charcoal to absorb the remaining GHB. If we got to him in time, he should be fine, but you should know there is still a risk that he could lapse into a coma."
'Gee, thanks, doctor,' I thought sarcastically. 'Do you talk to all of your patient's loved ones like this?'
He glanced down the hallway. "I need to ask you some questions, can you come with me?"
"Yeah, sure," I mumbled, still a bit thrown by his crude people skills. I followed him into an office - his, according to the plaque on the desk and the certificates on the wall. The room was an odd blend of warmth and impersonality. There was very little color, aside from the picture of a smiling blonde on his desk. The medical degrees on the wall were offset by a picture of a fighter jet. It seemed so out of place that I had to wonder if it held some significance for him or if it's purpose was merely to take up wall space.
"How well do you know Mr. Delorme," he asked as I sat down.
"Are we talking family history or 'boxers or briefs'?"
Jack just frowned at me.
Okay, no more jokes then. "Well enough."
"Has he had any problems with alcohol in the past? Any alcoholism in his family?"
Well, I suppose some people would consider me a "problem" but... "I don't know much about his family, but I've only seen him drink a couple times - once to intoxication."
Jack scribbled something on an official looking piece of paper. "Were you with him when he was dosed with GHB?"
Ah-ha. The ultimate purpose of his line of questioning was revealed. He wanted to rule out the possibility that I had done this to Vaughn. A drug-assisted rape gone wrong or something to that effect. I couldn't be offended though, since the first person to respond to an emergency is often the perpetrator. God help me if Jack decided to do a few X-rays and found all his healing broken bones and whatever other scars he may have gotten or he might think Vaughn was a victim of domestic abuse. "Yes."
"Did you see who might have done it?"
"Yes. I shot him."
Jack faltered, his face registering equal parts alarm and disbelief.
"In my defense, he tried to shoot me first," I said lightly as I flashed him my badge.
Jack shifted in his chair and cleared his throat, obviously thrown by that answer. "Okay...uh...do you know why someone would want to kill him?"
"I can't go into the specifics, but I can tell you that they see him as a threat. They probably used GHB because they wanted his death to look like an accidental overdose or attempted rape gone wrong." I was vaguely surprised that I was able to speak so calmly about it while Vaughn was still in danger of dying. Maybe that hadn't hit me yet.
Jack finally stopped writing and looked up at me, his eyes conveying the warmth and sympathy he seemed to have difficulty putting into words. "Does he have any family we could contact?"
"Just me and Kate and she should be on her way here right now."
"Kate?"
"Kate Jones. She's a co-worker and his best friend." Luckily Vaughn had instructed me on this too.
Jack nodded. "How close are you to Mr. Delorme," he asked.
"Well, I only met him about a year and a half ago, but I'd say I've gotten to know him pretty well, biblically speaking."
Probably not the most tactful way to put it, but it was worth it just to see the look on Jack's face.
"I volunteered to be his protection detail. I wouldn't trust anyone else to do whatever it takes to keep him safe."
Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, uh...I think that covers it." He pushed back from his desk and moved to stand.
"Can I see him?"
Jack hesitated. "It's still touch and go. Right now we're watching to make sure his body doesn't reject the treatment. He's probably feeling pretty sick right now and he's going to be incoherent for a while..."
"I don't care," I said firmly.
He smiled for the first time in the twenty minutes or so that I had had the opportunity to observe him. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but that seemed more a product of exhaustion and frayed nerves than insincerity. "All right."
Next chapter
