WARNING: There are violent scenes, sexual assault, bad language, you know, my usual.

by phair

Part 4

"Can't."

"Why not?" The doctor knelt next to the pair in a pool of ever expanding blood.

"I've got my finger in an artery. If I lose my grip she'll bleed out the rest of her volume before you can sink a line," Betsy looked up at the stunned doctor with a barely controlled panic. "NOW, DO SOMETHING!"

"Oh, fucker!" The young doctor felt his heart race.

"Damn it!" Betsy barked, "Tape my hands in place then I'll straddle her while you guys get us on a gurney. Get neurosurge in the OR and as much O positive as they can round up. Shen," she yelled at the man as a nurse began to wrap gauze around her hands cradling O'Grady's wounded neck, "snap out of it!"

"I've never been able to save anybody this bad," Shen gasped.

"That all changes today, Doctor," Betsy promised as the backboard was slid under the unconscious patient. "I'm not going to let you lose her."

The door to Devyn's room slammed open. Two uniformed officers entered followed by a cheap suited detective. They moved with calculated strides within inches of her seated position on the bed.

"We have a few questions."

Silence followed.

"Ms. Tannon, I suggest you cooperate with us. The staff here is none too happy you got their supervisor stabbed," the detective was smug. "They think you plotted the attack."

"No, I wouldn't..."

"Really!" He screamed in her face as he jerked off the bed by her orange scrubs. "You warned them about the danger before O'Grady even got to the ER. Was that buyer's remorse?"

"No, I had a dream," Devyn tried to tug free of his grasp only to have him toss her to the floor.

"This ain't no dream. It's your nightmare, girl," he smirked. "Cuff her boys. She's going to County before the staff here poisons her."

"Please," Devyn cried as she dragged to her feet and the handcuffs were awkwardly snapped around her casted arm, "please tell me, is she okay? In my dream, there was so much blood. Is she going to be all right?"

The cops and detective just laughed at her. Devyn was lead into the hall to face the angry mod of the staff and patients alike.

"She must be dead," Devyn wept as she was steered off the unit.

"Breath, can't breath," O'Grady wordlessly struggled to suck in the air her lungs desparately ached for.

Psssfffft.

With a mechanical whirl, the doctor's lungs were pumped full. She tried to hold the air for just a moment to relish the sweetness of the breath but it raced out all to quickly.

"Can't breath, gotta breath," her mind begged.

Psssfffft. BEEP.

"She's bucking the vent," a deep voice boomed close to O'Grady's ear.

"KATHLEEN, stop that!" Betsy's cool fingers stroked O'Grady's brow to soften the edge on the command. "Just relax. Let the vent do the work."

Psssfffft.

"There you go. Nice and easy. We'll do the hard stuff while you rest."

O'Grady tried to turn to the source of the words but she seemed to be taped in place. Even her eyes were stuck closed. Tears of frustration broke free of her prison and trickled down her face as she surrendered to the machine.

Psssfffft.

"Hey, O'Grady, you're gonna be okay," Betsy's voice cracked. "They stitched you up good. After a little more sleep and a lot more blood, we can start to ween you off the vent."

Psssfffft.

"Good girl, your pressure and heart rate are easing up. Just relax. You should know how to do that better than anybody, right?" Betsy soathed. "The lengths you'll go to get out of dinner at my house. Don't worry, I won't hold a grudge. When you're up to it; I'll have you over for a spam loaf."

O'Grady felt her lips tugging at the tape which held the tubes in her mouth.

Psssfffft.

"Oh, no," Betsy was definite crying now, "don't laugh. Respiratory will kill me if you knock the vent off again. Can't talk about funny stuff so that only leaves work. I had your secretary cancel all your appointments for the next month. Freda is a delightful woman. You should give her a raise."

"That's right, good old 'what's her name' is Freda," O'Grady's thoughts were focusing away from her breathing.

Psssfffft.

"And your grandfather's butler...caretaker...guy checked on the beach house. It seems you don't even have a plant to water. We have some serious decorating to do down there, kiddo."

"Good luck sprucing up that ten room monster," O'Grady thought as she relaxed into the calm jabbering and soft, cool finger strokes across her forehead.

Psssfffft.

"Your grandfather was here most of the night. Standing over you and holding your hand. He was asleep on his feet when I sent him to your office to get some shut eye on the couch of your's."

"He stayed with me?" O'Grady had trouble wrapping her mind around the idea.

Psssfffft.

"He asked me to tell you that your father is on his way back from ...Germany?"

"Vienna," O'Grady silently supplied even though she felt like she was falling back to sleep with gentle words and reassurance that she was not alone.

Psssfffft.

"Good girl, your rates are doing dropping to where we want them. I think I'm putting your to sleep."

O'Grady smirked again pulling at the tape.

"You go ahead to sleep. When you wake up your grandfather and father will be here."

Psssfffft. BEEP.

O'Grady's eyes snapped open darting wildly trying to focus in the blinding light.

"Shit! She's fighting it too hard. GET RESPIRATORY, STAT!" Betsy shouted over the blaring alarms. "Kathleen, relax."

"What the Hell?" The deep voice from before ran into the room. "Dr. O'Grady, I'm going to give you something to make you sleep. You need to let the machine breath for you."

"No, no, no!" O'Grady tried to thrash as much as she could but there were too many pieces of equipment and arms holding her down. She shot one last, silent plea to Betsy, "What about my mother?"

O'Grady came to the sudden conclusion she was awake. She had suspected it for several minutes but was not sure until she clearly heard the overhead page. Her eyes blinked open trying to guard against glaring light. Much to her relief, the room was dimly lit by a soft lamp in the far corner of the private room.

"Graduated," she thought to herself with the realization she was free of the vent.

O'Grady vaguely remembered the last few days. There were fevers and transfusions and tense minutes that dragged into hours. Several teary moments from the assorted gathering of coworkers around her bed. She tried to make a mental note of one or two that begged to be teased mercilessly when she got her strength back. If she got her strength back.

The steady clicking of computer keys dragged her regard away from the ceiling tiles. Turning her head to the left, she saw her father sitting with a laptop balanced on his knees. O'Grady managed to clear her throat to get his attention.

"Kat Leen," he glanced up from the screen and set the computer aside, "you're finally avake."

O'Grady could not help but smile at the hint of a German accent. She loved the way he pronounced her name. Dr. Joseph O'Grady was only an American by birth. The son of a career diplomat, he had lived most of his life in Europe. In fact, English was his second language.

"Papa's here," he took her hand as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "You are in pain?"

"No," her throat was raw and she began to cough.

"Ah, no, no, here, some ice chips," the mathematician was flustered as he spooned several chilly shards into his daughter's dry mouth.

O'Grady savored the cold against the sore and torn tissue. Joseph kept stroking her cheek and a firm hold of her hand. It was so comforting. She melted into the contact like the ice melted in her mouth. She focused on her father's striking blue eyes. Much to her amazement there were tears welling there.

"Papa," she struggled around the pain in her throat, "you didn't have to come all this way."

"Kat," tears began to trickle down his cheeks, "Vat you mean? Course, I come right away. My baby hurt? Planes don't fly fast enough to get me here."

O'Grady was stunned by his words. She never imaged the depth of her father's concern. In fact, she had never considered it before. Having grown up in boarding schools, the psychiatrist's relationship with her parents consisted of letters, phone calls, and one strained week long visit a year. It had been reduced to just greeting cards over the last few years.

"Thank you," she squeezed his hand as a tear escaped.

"No, no crying. Look, look, I wore da sweater you sent. I'm trendy, no?" He grinned like a school boy.

O'Grady chuckled. Her usually starched, white shirt father stood before her in a charcoal gray pull over. She thought he would look good in it and she was right. It complimented his jet black hair perfectly.

"Are those jeans?" Her eyes narrowed trying to focus.

"Ya, ya," he was laughing as he stepped back for her to see the ensemble. "I so loved da shirt, I buy six more and jeans and tennis shoes."

"Please tell me that not all the shirts are gray," she could not hold back her laughter when he shook his head no.

"You must excuse your Papa. He a slow learner but he tries." He cleared his throat before continuing, "Kat, I love you."

O'Grady's laughter stopped abruptly. Even in the deafening silence that followed, she could hear the echo of his confession. It could have been sweet if it were not so heartbreaking late in their relationship.

"You lost so much. I cheated you out of a childhood. You should never forgive me but know I vish I could do it over again."

"Not me," she groaned as she shifted stiff muscles uncomfortably in the bed, "once was more than I needed."

The man was silent as he stoically stood next to her bed. He hung his head. O'Grady regarded him carefully. She reached her clinical assessment quickly; shame.

"Hey, I'm glad you came," she ventured.

"I'm sorry you couldn't count on me," he never lifted his head.

"Papa, look at me," his heartbroken face raised enough for her to meet his eye. "I'm glad you're here," she smiled and reached for his hand.

Joseph took the hand and gently kissed her palm. O'Grady's trembling fingers wiped away his tears.

"Can we start again?" He asked hopefully.

"No, we can only go on from here," she struggled to sit up; to hug him.

"Just a few more steps. That's the way. Head up. Keep coming."

"FUCKING LITTLE SHIT!" O'Grady's mind screamed in protest.

Sweat poured off her brow as she placed one weak leg in front of the other. Muscles use to ten days in bed throbbed and threatened to quit. O'Grady's hands clenched the parallel bars in a flagging effort to stay upright. Her heart rate picked up sooner than she her brain registered she was falling.

"DAMN IT!" She growled as her decent was abruptly stopped by the strong hands of her physical therapist.

He and his assistant managed to get her in the wheelchair without any injury.

"Not bad," he was puffing from the strain.

"Liar," O'Grady muttered under her breath.

The psychiatrist was disgusted. She was as helpless as a new born kitten. The last two days were her first attempts at trying to stand and they were complete failures. She could not even look at the cocky therapist standing before her.

"You can't do this in one day. You know what they say about Rome being built," he was jotting notes on a clipboard as he spewed platitudes. "You had some very bad wounds, lost lots of blood, spent a week, almost two on your back," he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"I am aware of my medical history," you condescending asshole, she added for herself.

"Well, I guess doctors really do make the worst patients," he scolded.

O'Grady ground her teeth in frustration. It was bad enough to be totally dependent but having to rely on smug guys like this was appalling. She made a mental note to get him fired when she got back to work.

"I'll have Glen spin you back to your room and transfer you back into bed," the physical therapist never looked up from his notes.

O'Grady glanced over her shoulder at the all too quiet Glen. His lab coat was three sizes too big and he shifted nervously from foot to foot. The angry doctor smiled broadly when she spotted his name tag.

"Don't you mean your student!" She spat the words.

"What?" The therapist looked up from his notes in surprise at her tone.

"You're suppose to ask me if I mind a student being present during therapy," she grinned triumphantly. "It's my right! AND I mind very much!"

O'Grady watched the therapist shrink back from her. His complacent manner was lost in seconds. Years of training helped the psychiatrist tease out the fear from the regret from the panic. It was the most fun she had had since the stabbing.

"I'm...ah...sorry...I forgot to ask...what do...I mean, can't we work this out...between us?"

BINGO. It was O'Grady's turn to smirk.

"I want to borrow him," she ignored the therapist's sudden flush. "Don't worry, I'll get him back to you in two hours. I need a...chauffeur."

"Running around in just a johnnie?" He was stalling for time to think of something else to do.

"And a bathrobe," she cinched the belt tighter. "Besides, everybody dresses like this here."

"Where to?" The physical therapist knew he had lost the upper hand.

"None of your business!"

"Not out of the building and one hour." He bargained.

"Deal!" O'Grady was happier than she could ever remember being. "Let's get going Glen, times a wasting."

The student took the hint and steered the wheelchair out of the therapy room. He followed the doctor's pointing and grunts as if his life depended on it. Once in the elevator, Glen took the doctor's three raised fingers as the floor desired. His patient waved him up to the doors of the locked psyche unit. A nurse rushed towards the door as they approached.

"Dr. O'Grady, you look great," Jill gushed as the wheelchair brushed past her. "Is there something I can help you with?"

O'Grady was propelling herself now. Her goal was within rolling distance. She heard the nurse calling after her but ignored the demands to stop.

"Devyn?" she called as she pushed the door open with the chair's footrest.

The room was empty. The bed was striped. Devyn was gone.

Betsy sucked in a deep breath before pushing the door open. She was not the least bit surprised to see O'Grady frantically struggling to get on her clothes. The psychiatrist was perch precariously on the side of her hospital bed with her scrub pants twisted around her thighs and her head trapped inside her own shirt. Betsy regretted seeing her friend so helpless even more than finding her bleeding out on the ER floor.

"You'll be sorry if those stitches give and dump your guts in your lap. It wasn't pretty the first time and it will be less so now," the nurse humored as she eyed the exposed and weeping line of sutures along her O'Grady's belly.

"FUCK YOU!" The doctor barked. "Help me or get out!"

Betsy immediately moved to free O'Grady of her shirt by pulling it down to her shoulders. The doctor was soaked with perspiration from her futile efforts.

"They tell me you're planning on wheeling yourself over to County." Betsy ventured as she pulled the scrubs up trembling thighs.

"I promised her," O'Grady panted as she struggled to shift her weight into her clothes.

"That's one way to deal with the situation, I guess."

O'Grady grabbed Betsy's arm to force eye contact. The doctor's steely glare locked on the woman. She raised an eyebrow waiting for an answer to her unspoken question.

"Or the smarter choice might be to call that kid lawyer of Devyn's and tell him she was moved without his knowledge. Like I did, when Howie clued me in."

"You did?" An exhausted O'Grady let Betsy shift her back onto the bed.

"She'll be back in the building at any minute."

"I want to see her," O'Grady whispered weakly now that her adrenaline was receding.

"Just for a couple of minutes and then you need a sedative," Betsy took the doctor's pulse as she spoke. "You're lucky you didn't do more damage than scaring the shit out of the PA."

"Don't forget Jill," O'Grady gave a wink. "You should have seen her face. She didn't know if she should call a doctor or security."

"Don't think you're cute. You could have hurt yourself. Those people were only doing their jobs and you acted like a tyrant."

"No, I did not!" O'Grady looked up indignantly. "I acted like their boss. And they better get ready for my return because there's Hell to pay on this one."

Betsy rolled her eyes. She was spared a retort by the knock at the door.

"Come in," O'Grady grunted.

A burly sheriff elbowed his way into the room. Devyn was tugged in behind him followed by another armed guard. She was dressed in the bright orange jumpsuit used at county lock up. Shackled hand and foot with a sheriff at each shoulder, she looked for all the world like a wanted felon. O'Grady's stiffening sent Betsy a warning to intervene quickly.

"Don't yell at the boys. They have to transport everybody the same way or they'll lose their jobs. If say anything, you should thank my cousin, Patrick, for putting Devyn on the priority list."

"Thank you, Cousin Patrick," O'Grady gritted out. "Now, can you remove those chains from my patient."

"You're most welcome, Doc, but I can't let her loose 'til she's on the secure unit," the big man cough on his embarrassment. "Real sorry, she's been a good girl but my hands are tied. So, to speak."

"Why don't we give Dr. O'Grady and Devyn time to visit while I get you guys a cup of coffee?" Betsy spoke up first and motioned toward the door.

"We can give them a few minutes alone but we don't need none of you coffee, cuz. We have more work to do this week," the big man grinned.

The three departed the room amidst good natured teasing leaving the doctor with her patient. Devyn remained near the door, head down, staring at the floor. O'Grady could tell the woman was broken but was unsure how badly.

"Devyn," the blonde flinched at the sound, "come closer. It's too hard to talk to you so far away."

Devyn took a shuffling step forward. She stopped abruptly at sound of the clink of her chains. O'Grady could see an embarrassed flush begin in the woman's cheeks.

"Come on, I'll try to meet you halfway," the doctor struggled to sit up.

Devyn hesitated a moment but then the doctor opened her arms wide. Moving as quickly as her chains would allow, Devyn stumbled forward and fell into O'Grady's embrace.

"I'm sorry, so sorry," Devyn wept as she buried her face in the doctor's chest. "Please say you're not mad at me, please forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive," O'Grady held on firmly to the trembling body.

"They wouldn't tell me if you were okay. I thought you were dead. They said I set you but I would never hurt you. I need you. Please believe me."

"I do," O'Grady reassured. "If you hadn't warned Dr. Howard then I would have died. He made it just in time to stop..." she halted in mid sentence as the memory threatened to engulf her.

Devyn continued to tremble but the tears seemed to slow. The doctor maintained a her hold on her even though it was sapping her strength.

"Now, tell me about you," O'Grady coaxed the limp body upright. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt at County."

"No," Devyn stood on her own but stayed close to the bedside, her face still turned downward. "They kept me separated from everybody else. You know, in...isolation."

O'Grady grimaced at the words. Devyn had been locked in a cell twenty three hours a day for the last two weeks.

"Are you in pain?" O'Grady asked softly and lifted Devyn's chin.

The woman's head slowly nodded. Her tears fell unchecked.

"Do you need a doctor?"

"Yes, I need you," Devyn sobbed.

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