Chapter 8
Sally kicked and screamed as Jameson pulled her from the OR towards the corridor, her cries muffled by the surgical mask she still wore. It wasn't so much that she was afraid of Jameson, heck she had worked with him for nearly ten years and knew that he was a bit of a pansy, but she was angry. Very, very angry.
She was always a very trusting person. Her mother would even say gullible. When her brother needed money to be bailed out of jail... again, she was there, paying for it. When her ex-husband said he had to go to Vegas on business, she believed him. Only to find out a week later that he never left, and was having an affair.
Now once again, she felt duped and manipulated, her good nature used against her. Dr. Jameson had acted so heartbroken, so lost, that she immediately felt for him and trusted when he told her that he had nothing to do with Liz's disappearance. Liz was her friend and co-worker and it was hard thinking that something terrible may have happened to her, so Sally had been one of the many volunteers to go out and search for her and had canvased many neighborhoods handing out fliers for her missing friend, she had even brought meals to his house, believing him to be the grieving husband he pretended to be. Coming to the conclusion now that he may have killed her and knowing the truth, sent a blaze of fury burning inside of her. Some of that anger was directed at herself for being so easily deceived, but the vast majority of if landed squarely on him and for the first time in her life she felt pure, unadulterated hate against another human being, if he could even be called that anymore.
And now, that lying good-for-nothing bastard was taking her hostage to save his own skin, dragging her down the hall. With all of her strength she fought, but his hold was too tight and he outweighed her by at least 70 pounds. She was no match for him physically, but she could still put up a fuss and she screamed and screamed, hoping it was hurting his ears as much as it was hers.
Doctors, nurses and patients alike came out to see what was going on, stunned to see the anesthesiologist holding a knife to a nurse's throat. She continued to holler as loud as she could. The two agents she had seen before from the observation room were running towards them, pulling guns from their sides and leveling them in their direction.
"Stop, Jameson!"
“I meant it!” Dr. Jameson yelled at the agents. “Come any closer and I'll slice her throat open!” She started up her wailing again, this time hurling insults and epitaphs towards him.
“You killed Liz, didn't you? Go to hell, you sick bastard!"
“Shut up, Sally!” Dr. Jameson shouted, but she ignored him, she was too pissed off to care about doing anything he ever told her to do ever again.
"I hope you fry for what you've done! To think I ever trusted you!” She continued on her tirade. In frustration, he tried to silence her by placing his gloved hand over her mouth, accidentally sliding the surgical mask down her face so that it fell around her neck. That was where he made his fatal mistake.
Sally took this opportunity to make a bid for freedom. With his vile, latex covered hand still attempting to quiet her, she opened her mouth up as wide as she could before slamming and locking her jaws shut, clamping her teeth down as hard as she could around his offensive digits until she could hear him cry out in surprise and pain and she could taste the metallic warmth of blood in her mouth. Not letting go, he had to push her violently away in order to rescue his hand and she fell to the floor. Once free, she scrambled away, leaving him hostage-less.
He turned to make a run for it, stumbling as he dashed to the end of the hall, but as he turned the blind corner, he ran right into the barrel of a gun held by one very, pissed off, cold-eyed and dark-haired woman, her eyes boring into him with anger.
“I would not try to go any further if I were you.” She said cooly. “It would only land you in one of these operating rooms as a patient instead of a doctor.”
Breathing heavily, Dr. Jameson sighed and held up his hands, tears coming to his eyes as he sank to his knees the floor. The older, grey-haired agent, Gibbs was his name she remembered, went to the doctor and whipped out a pair of handcuffs, slapping them forcefully onto his wrists and closing them tightly, not giving a damn about his comfort. The exotic looking woman kept her weapon trained on the doctor as Gibbs read him his rights and hauled him to his feet.
By now, Dr. Jameson was openly bawling as he was dragged away. Still on the cold floor, and realizing that her ordeal was over, she gave into her relief, finding herself trembling like a leaf. It was then than she felt a blanket being draped over her and she looked up into kind eyes. The younger male agent was helping her up and directing her to an empty bed.
“Thanks.” She told him as he helped her up.
“Are you alright?” He asked gently with a hand on her shoulder. Feeling reassured, she nodded shakily. “What's your name?” He asked.
“Sally.” She replied weakly.
“It's nice to meet you Sally, I'm Tim. Do you need me to call anyone for you?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I'm okay.” She nodded with a ghost of a smile. “Thank-you for helping me.” She told him gratefully.
“Actually, it is you we should be thanking, you were very brave and managed to take out Dr. Jameson on your own. You're the hero of your own story today.” Looking down, she didn't feel very brave, instead she felt...numb? She couldn't put a word to describe her emotions right at the moment, but a thought suddenly popped into her head. Her training as a nurse anesthetist kicking in as she remembered the agent in the operating room. He was still on the heart-lung machine and there was no anesthesiologist. She gasped and looked up into Tim's eyes.
“I have to get back to the OR! Your friend still has his chest cracked and our only available Anesthesiologist right now has just been arrested.” She hopped off the bed, throwing off the blanket urgently and raced back to the OR as Tim watched her run off. Back in the wash room, she quickly stripped off her soiled gown, gloves, mask and hat. She scrubbed as fast as she could without sacrificing cleanliness before putting on fresh protective wear and racing back into the OR.
Inside the OR, things were tense. Dr. Matthews had managed keep a level head and reign everyone in to get their focus back on the patient and was currently back at work, checking his previous repair on the heart. He looked up to see her enter.
“Sally!” He exclaimed in surprise. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I'm fine. Dr. Jameson has been arrested.” There were gasps and mumblings all around, but she ignored them.
“I'm glad you're okay.” He offered sincerely. “But we're going to need someone to monitor the anesthesia, do you think you can handle it for now, until we can get another anesthesiologist in?”
“I think so, but I've never worked general anesthesia on my own before.”
“It's okay for now, I've called in Dr. Bauer, but it's going to be nearly half an hour before he gets here and we can't leave the patient without anesthetic that long and I'd like to try to get him off of bypass as soon as possible.”
“I'll do my best.” She told him as confidently as she could, but inside she was still shaking from the incident with Dr. Jameson and she was plagued by self doubt. Tim, the kind young agent, had entered the observation room, she noticed and emboldened by his presence, she warily went to the head of the patient and checked the equipment. Right off, she was shocked by what she saw. The ratio of drug mixtures was way off. No wonder the man's heart was having a hard time starting again.
“Dr. Matthews!” She exclaimed. “I think Dr. Jameson was trying to poison the patient!”
OOOOO
“Alright.” A no-nonsense Gibbs started as Tony and the dirty vagrant faced each other in the center of the ring. “I want a clean fight. Touch gloves and let's get started.”
“Got it, boss.” He told Gibbs while his opponent only shook his matted hair and snarled menacingly. As they tapped their gloved hands, the show began. The vagrant bounced up and down, dancing from side to side. Tony too, tried to imitate him, keeping on his toes and lifting his hands up in front of his face to keep up his guard.
He had to admit that he was out of his element. He liked to watch fights on television from time to time, but it really wasn't his favorite sport. Of course, he was trained in hand to hand and could hold his own when he needed to fight out in the field. He had even sparred with Gibbs on many occasions, but had thoroughly had his ass handed to him each time by the older man. However, boxing was not something he ever did for fun or on his own accord.
The two men danced around each other, circling and throwing a few jabs, but never actually making contact for what seemed like an eternity.
“Come on, Tony, what are you waiting for? Lay him out!” Ziva yelled above the cheers and shouts coming from the spectators. “Take the offensive!” He made the mistake of turning his head in her direction, enjoying the view of her leather clad body and his opponent took the advantage of his distraction and sent a gloved fist flying into his face. Caught off guard, the vagrant's glove impacted with his jaw and sent his ears ringing, he tasted blood from a cut on his bottom lip and nearly lost his balance, but immediately, he snapped his attention back to the fight, shaking off the dizziness the hit had caused.
“Sorry, Tony!” She yelled again. “Forget offense. Think defense. Keep your guard up and focus!”
Focus she tells me. How can I when she's wearing that? If only he didn't have the mouth guard in, then he could tell her how much she really wasn't helping at the moment, but she was right, he needed to focus.
They danced around each other some more until Tony could stand it no longer and he came charging at his opponent, wildly swinging a couple of hooks and connecting with the man's torso several times. It did little to hurt him and only served to inflame his wrath.
Oh Shit! Tony saw the man's eyes light up in anger and take on a whole new level of crazy. With an insane howl, the fellow launched himself at Tony and they went into the ropes, the man's fists hitting him over and over in the face. Tony did his best to block him, covering his head with his arms, but several blows threatened to take him out.
From his side he heard McGee and Abby come up to the ropes.
“Keep fighting Tony!” Abby shouted.
“C'mon, Fight back!” McGee yelled his support, as well. Thanks for the advice, Probie. He wanted to say. What do you think I'm doing? Playing pat-a-cake?
Tony could feel that he was losing steam with each fist that made contact with his body, pounding him over and over again. Bruises and welts were forming everywhere and blood trickled into his eyes from a cut above his eyebrow, making it hard to see. He tried to push back against his opponent and was marginally successful in getting him off the ropes, but he kept coming at him.
Breathing heavily, his chest burning from exhaustion, as he maintained his guard and attempted to swing a few punches against the vagrant. He just needed to hold out until the bell signaled the end of the round. It had already seemed like an eternity since the fight began, how much longer could it be?
His legs were growing rubbery after another blow hit him in the eye and he stumbled. Seeing his weakness, the crazy man went for broke with an inhuman growl, sweeping in with a jab and uppercut, hitting him under the chin, knocking his teeth together and throwing out his mouthguard. Blood poured out of his injured mouth, and he had to spit out a tooth or two that had been jarred out by the impact.
The world faded and he fell to his knees, but he caught himself with his hands before falling to his face completely. Holding onto the last shred of consciousness he had left, he fought to stay awake and to push himself up, but his battered body refused to obey and he lay on the mat panting.
“Get up Tony!” Ziva yelled. Gibbs came to his side and began the count, knowing that when he reached ten, he'd be out and the fight would be over and he would lose. He could just give up, he thought. It would be the easiest thing to do.
“One! Two! Three!” He just wanted to lay there. There'd be no more pain if this just ended now.
“Get up Tony!” No more fighting, no more fear, no more getting shot at.
“Four! Five! Six!” No more having to go to work on Mondays, no more cases.
“Get up! Now!” No more Gibbs, no more head-slaps, no more Probies to pick on.
“Seven! Eight!” No more sex, no more Ziva.....
“Now, Tony!” In the space of a heartbeat, the world slowed down and from his position on the floor of the ring he could see Ziva in the corner of his eye. Her mouth was moving, but he could no longer hear her shouts. He could just make out her face and their eyes locked. Like magnets, her dark eyes pulled at him, willing, begging him to rise, to keep fighting. But he was so tired, he just didn't think he could take any more.
“Nine!”
To be continued.....
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