TFCC: Heartattack Pt4

He was still sitting in the police station. He’d been left alone, and no one was really paying him much attention; they all had their duties after all. He probably should have gone back to the hospital, but right now he really didn’t feel like getting chewed out for decking the hospital director. He probably should have gone home then instead, but he didn’t really want to be alone either. He knew things were going down, and he had no control over any of it; he hated not having control of things.

“Here.”

He looked up, finding a new person in front of him. He had the oddest feeling that he looked familiar, but his memory just couldn’t place from where. This man was fairly clean shaven, dressed pretty casually compared to most of the people who worked around here, yet there was a certain formalness to him too. He offered the red head a slight smile, trying to be friendly as he offered him a Styrofoam cup.

“You look like you could use some coffee.”

“What I could use is a shot of vodka dry,” he half heartedly said, but took the offered cup with a thankful nod.

The new guy chuckled a little at that, and took a seat on the wicker bench beside him. “I feel you there, but that’s sort of frowned upon in these parts.”

Knockout snorted, “Cops, what a bunch of uptight pricks. No offense.”

“None taken, seeing as I’m the coroner, not really included in that statement.”

“Mmm, dead doctor, nice.”

“Haha, yeah, not funny,” he offered his hand now, “I prefer to be called Tumbler, you know, seeing as that’s my name.”

Knockout shook the offered hand, but the name had jumpstarted his memory. “Wait, Tumbler? Didn’t you used to be a neurosurgeon?”

He chuckled, holding his hands up in a surrender pose, “Oh, you caught me, guess it’s time to move to Timbuktu.”

The red head raised an eyebrow at that. “You went from head neurosurgeon to a county coroner…why?”

His mirthful attitude started to fade away a little as he just shrugged. “Needed a change of scenery I guess. The dead don’t complain…or mind if you compare their hypothalamus to jello.”

Again Knockout had to blink at that; he had vague memories about this man’s tenure at the hospital when he’d been doing his residency; most of it was secondhand information or gossip though. Only the nickname “Chromedome” really sprang to mind, but somehow, that just didn’t feel suitable; not for this dork at least. But then again, Knockout was tired, and just really didn’t care as much as he normally would at the moment.

“So what are you in for?”

“What?” he was rocketed out of his thoughts by that question. “You don’t know?”

“I hang out with dead bodies all day, you think I’m kept socially in the loop here?”

“My…partner went missing a few days ago and it looks like he was kidnapped.”

“Oh. Oh wow, sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah…” he looked down, starring blankly into the half empty coffee cup in his hands.

“I can see why you need the vodka.”

He just nodded silently. A moment later a hand was placed on his shoulder. He looked back up there, finding the coroner to be the one touching him.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“Excuse me?”

“I meant, do you want a ride home or something,” he clarified. “I’m getting off now, so I could drive you somewhere. It’s not really much fun hanging around here, not to mention the weirdoes that can be brought in. I’m sure someone will call you if there’s a break in the case.”

Knockout just sighed. “I’m just tired of waiting.”

“I get that, but if you gotta wait, you should at least be comfortable right?”

He had to admit that it really was boring here, and probably just adding to the stress. He couldn’t go home though; he’d left his car at the hospital. So he took him up on his offer to hitch a ride there at least. The fresh air would be helpful after all.

Traffic wasn’t too bad considering the time of day; plus the fact that he’d effectively run the distance between points earlier made it seem like it wasn’t as far. When he mentioned that fact, Tumbler seemed impressed by that. Conversation wasn’t really a major thing on the ride though; they both sort of understood that Knockout needed the space. But he still had the professional courtesy to ask him how working for the district compared to working at the hospital, which lead into a few amusing anecdotes from the doctor about eth weird things that had been brought into his office. So what conversation they did have wasn’t horrible at least.

He thanked him for the ride as he was let off outside the parking structure. He contemplated for a moment whether he really should go back inside to face the punishment he was certain Ratchet was just waiting to hurl upon him. In the end, he still didn’t feel like it, so he just wanted to get his car and go. It only took five minutes walking through the parking garage before he heard someone yelling his name.

“KNOCKOUT!”

He groaned, his keys already out, his cherry red Ashton Martin within sight, begging to be driven away. Another call came, so he begrudgingly turned around to find the good psychiatrist running towards him.

“How the hell did you know I’d be out here now Rung?”

“Never mind that!” he panted slightly as he reached him. “Where have you been! Everyone has been trying to call you!”

“The cops have my phone,” he responded. “And besides, I really am not in the mood to have Ratchet chew out my ass for the lobby right now.”

“Oh he will, be warned, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Well spit it out would you, I’d like to get home and this day to get over with.”

“He’s here!”

“Who?”

“Breakdown.”

The world stopped for the second time that day; the keys fell from his grasp with an unnoticed clang to the cement floor.

“The cops brought him in not too long ago. It doesn’t look good…”

*****

It wasn’t good. In fact it was as far from good as it could have been at that moment.

“The cardiac damaged is irreparable,” Ratchet had said, “As is the ocular hack job. Even if we could find a donor eye, the nerves are too damaged to repair.”

“And his heart?”

“Right now, only the machines are keeping him alive but that’s just a temporary fix. He needs a donor heart, but…”

“His blood type is rare,” he’d finished; this problem had come up the year before when he’s nearly chopped off his thumb at work and needed a blood transfusion. “Nearly impossible to type match.”

The head resident had nodded. “He’s at the top of the list, but time just isn’t on our side.”

Silence hung thickly.

“Knockout, I, well…. In light of recent, well, facts, I’m willing to overlook the earlier incident in the lobby,” he said that despite the thick brown and green bruise that took up the side of his face, “But we both know you can’t touch this. And with this going on, I don’t want you on call either.”

“So I’m suspended.”

“You’re on vacation. Effective immediately,” he had started to leave then, but the older doctor had paused, remembering his bedside manor, “I…I’m very sorry. I really do hope things will work out for you and your partner.”

But that wasn’t true; they were both doctors, they both knew where this was going. Knockout had sat at Breakdown’s bedside for a good two hours rereading his charts, prying any information he could from the nurses that came in. Despite their orders not to indulge the doctor, they still told him things; he was quite convincing after all. It was all the same though; there just wasn’t enough time to keep the man alive long enough to even have the chance for finding a suitable donor…well, one that was already dead that is.

It burned him up that the man that had done this to his love was laying in another room in the hospital, just waiting to get out on his money fine and clear. Him, a perfect match, he would get out then wait for Breakdown to die, and still win in the end. He spent a good half hour trying to find that room, plotting ways to kill that beastly man for what he’d done, but where the nurses could tell him things to try to sooth the grieving partner, they knew better than to feed the revengeful one.

Now though, he just sat there with his head bowed, and his hands resting over the still hand of his love’s that laid lifeless against the bed. His thoughts drifted far away, back to a better time…

“You know, when we first met, I never would’ve imagined that I’d grow to love you this much.”

It was late, or perhaps it was just that early. The only lights that came from the curtained window were from the street lamps outside, and they offered no indication of time, only the fact that it was dark. It didn’t bother the lovers in their bed, one way or another; whether they had been at it for hours, or moments, it felt like an eternity within a heartbeat when they were entwined. It was only in the after glow that time caught up to them, gave them a moment to reflect.

The red head lay on top of his white haired love, resting his chin against crossed arms that lay upon the bare tanned chest. A larger hand reached up to brush a few stray matted red strands away from an equally red half lidded gaze; his touch was beyond any imaginable gentle caress. An equally soft chuckle made his chest rise and fall just as gently.

“Oh really now?”

“I’m sure you’d heard the rumors.”

“Idle gossip? Never.”

He rolled his red eyes, but turned his head to rest his check against his arms now; the soft stroking increased upon the back of his head.

“Never really thought I’d be the type for a long term relationship. Until a big strong man decided to sweep me off my feet that is.”

“If I’m remembering correctly, you’re the one that came onto me with some really cheesy pickup lines.”

“Hey,” he turned to look at him again, “Those were A-material for getting one night stands.”

“Uhhu.”

“You still went for them though.”

“Didn’t go home with you though.”

“True.”

“But I did come back.”

He raised an eyebrow at that.

“Yeah, I never told you that I was in that bar that night only because of a bet. But I went back every night looking for you.”

“We didn’t hook back up until two weeks later though.”

“I know.”

“Oh.”

“I was actually leaving when I saw those guys attack you. If I’d left a minute earlier or later…”

“But you weren’t.”

He nodded lightly, bringing his and to cup his love’s cheek with that oh so gently touch of his. “And I never will be Doc. I’m always gonna be here to protect you.”

“Pft, please,” he tried to brush it off nonchalantly, but the blush dusting his cheeks betrayed it, “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself you know.”

“I know but still.”

They locked eyes now; red to gold. Their heart beats synced, their breathing slowed. A dark thumb lightly stroked a pale cheek; he leaned into the touch softly, being the one to break the eye contact as he closed his.

“I love you Knockout.”

“I know Breakdown,” he breathed softly. “Me too.”


“Knockout?”

A soft voice managed to break into his reminiscing; he recognized it easily as the good psychologist. Rung had been coming in almost regularly to check on him; probably to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. Too bad that goal was about to fall through.

“Knockout, are you awake?”

“Yeah I’m awake,” he stood up now, “They still make you head shrinks take basic medical training in school right.”

“Yeah…”

“Good,” he turned to face him now, “Because I’m going to need a wing man.”

*****

Silas had come around out of the anesthesia just a few hours later. He’d found himself in an unfamiliar room, and handcuffed to his hospital bed. It didn’t take much to deduce what had happened, and the first words from his lips had been “I want my lawyer”. Calls had been made then; various police and legal people had been in and out of the room since. Now it was just a matter of time before he was out of this place, and just a little more time until he got what he’d wanted all along. The man he’d had kidnapped would die, and with just a few well placed bribes, there’s no way he’d be denied.

So now it was just a waiting game.

A shuffle to the left, over his shoulder, stirred the old army man from his half slumber. He half rolled over to see who it was, having to remove the breathing mask to fully see.

“Hmmm…who are you?”

It was a red haired man dressed in green scrubs, complete with a stethoscope hung around his neck. He had just been messing with the IV that wound its way down to his arm, as evidenced by the slipping of something into his shirt’s pocket. Or perhaps that movement was just to remove the pen there, as his next movement was to pick up the clip boarded chart.

“Excuse me,” Silas coughed slightly there, and had to take a breath from the mask before he continued, “I asked you a question.”

“Just another doctor,” he replied dryly, flipping up the top page of the clipboard. “Funny, you don’t look sick.”

The old man chuckled. “Are you the only doctor around here with any common sense?”

“Something like that. What a rare blood type you have. Must make getting blood transfusions hard.”

“Tell me about it. Took me nearly two years to find a set of donor lungs.”

“Lucky you that someone with your exact blood type just so happened to die then.”

“Yeah, luck,” he coughed again, but started to notice that the lights seemed to be dimming. “Is there something wrong with the power?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Everything’s getting so dark though…” he started to reach up to hold his head, but noticed that the liquid going into his IV was discolored now. “What the…”

“I’ll save you the trouble of thinking about it, seeing as you’ll be brain dead in a few minutes,” the red head snapped. “That is triple the dosage of a certain sedative that won’t damage any organs except for your brain.”

“How….why…”

“You really don’t bother doing thorough enough background checks on people before you kidnap them I take it,” he set the clip board down and walked around the far end of the bed, slowly. “If you had, you’d know who I am.”

Silas tried to focus on the red head, but it was increasingly hard to stay aware.

“Because of you the man I love is laying helpless and dying. And for that, I would love nothing more than to spend countless hours torturing you for that.”

“You…you can’t…”

“I know, sadly there’s “laws” against that for some strange reason,” he drummed his fingertips against the metal railing at the end of the bed. “Plus, there’s the little fact that you’re the only one who can save his life.”

“This…illegal…”

“Doesn’t seem to bother you in the least bit.”

Silas wanted to say more, but the words just stuck unable to form properly. The world was fading fast, and quickly there was nothing but darkness.

Knockout on the other hand remained completely wide awake and alert. He moved back to the machines in the room, and made sure to flip them off before the flat line tone pierced the silence. He looked down at the still body, eyes narrowed.

“You’re getting off easy.”

Rung stuck his head into the room then; he appeared to be dressed in scrubs as well. He seemed a bit on the nervous side, and rightfully so.

“Is…is it done then?”

Knockout nodded. “You get the OR set up?”

Now it was the carrot top’s turn to nod.

“And Breakdown?”

“Already moved there.”

“Good.”

“So…?”

“Let’s do this.”