Chapter 5

Clarke's heart pounded against her ribcage but she could feel her blood pressure beginning to slow after the heated incident she just experienced with the officer. Even the patient's room was dirty: dirt on the floor, she could smell a faint hint of rusty metals, and the room itself smelled like an old hotel room that hadn't been clean in years. This brought up the question of rather or not if her patient was laying on clean sheets. The thought caused her to internally shudder while simultaneously increasing the frustration she already had about the neglect she sees on the level. She wondered if Jaha or her mother knew about the heath hazards and lack of proper care and her gut told her they did, which made the situation worse. She made a mental note to talk with them both about what she's seen.

She saw her patient laying in the hospital bed and instantly she could see how sick he was. Just reviewing his chart told her something was severely wrong but once she laid eyes on his face, she saw the severity of his illness. His face was completely pale and considering the bone structure males have, she knew his cheekbones shouldn't be that visible. His hair is matted from sweat, his brown eyes were exhausted, and she could already tell by his fingers that his liver was working incredibly hard to function. The arm that didn't contain a drip was handcuffed to the bed railing which made a clinking noise when the patient moved. She understood the people on this level was dangerous but she asked herself if being handcuffed in a hospital was necessary. How was he suppose to go to the bathroom? He moved his head only slightly when he spotted her and she watched his weary eyes seize her from head to toe and his pained expression turned into a forced smirk.

"So you're my doctor," he scoffed. He looked past her to eye Officer Blake who had followed her inside his room. "And you're her big bad protector," he said. His voice was raspy and Clarke noticed he had trouble catching his breath. She ignored both comments as she approached but heard Officer Blake grunt from behind her.

"I'm Dr. Griffin," she said, approaching the pulse monitor and drip rack.

"So it says on your tag," he said.

She frowned when she checked his drip. Clear liquid was backed halfway up the tube, almost pouring back into the bag. If he's been admitted for nearly three hours and his drip hasn't been delivering liquid to his body, he was severely dehydrated which could be why his liver was failing. She gritted her teeth to keep from losing her focus. She followed the drip tube to the part that is suppose to administer the liquid and saw the tube that followed was dry. Her eyes caught her patient's.

"No one has been here, have they?" Clarke asked him. He snorted as he turned his head back to a frontal position to look away from her.

"No one except a bitch nurse who poked me with the needle six times," he barely said and Clarke saw the places on his arm that were swollen. Six times? She asked herself. "The drip stopped working as soon as she left," he added, his voice becoming more raspy by the second. "And it fucking hurts." She frowned again.

Clarke looked around for a box of gloves but didn't see any. Then she remembered its a protocol to keep them outside the room on a wall so they couldn't be accessed by patients. She resisted the urge to curse under her breath.

"I'll be right back," she told Murphy as she turned on her heel.

"Take your time," he said, coughing. "Its not like I'm dying or anything."

Clarke grabbed a pair of green gloves from the compartment outside the room and hurriedly walked back to her patient's bed as she stretched the latex over her hands.

"Let me see your arm," she said and Murphy gritted his teeth as he lifted his arm. She knew something was wrong and she was right. She inspected the IV and saw that not only was the area infected, but the nurse shoved the needle through a nerve, blowing the vein and causing phlebitis which is why the area of his skin is swollen.

Instantly, her doctor instincts began to take over and she had to hurry to administer him with a new drip and a new needle. She opened desk drawers and checked the medical cabinets and even the closet but couldn't find the materials needed to give him a new drip Her heart was pounding and she knew she is racing against the clock to keep her patient from dying of a damn drip. She grabbed the twist connect and unscrewed it from the bag and disconnected the drip chamber from the spike. She saw something was blocking the liquid from flowing in the chamber and really, she needed new tubing but had to get him hydrated, first.

"I need a pin," she mumbled mostly to herself, as she frantically looked around the room.

"Something wrong, doc?" Murphy asked humorously and weak.

"Not for long," Clarke mumbled back as she held the materials and her frantic eyes met with Officer Blake who looked overly alert. She spotted his name tag. B. Blake

"I need your name tag," she said to him.

He looked at her in disbelief. "Why?"

"NOW!" She urged and he huffed as he walked over to her, unfastening his name tag, and handed it to her. She took the pin end of the tag and stuck it inside the chamber. She moved it around until she heard a small click, removed the pin, and basically threw it back at B. Blake. She connected the tubes again, twisting the connector back onto the bag and held up the tubes. Officer Blake, Murphy, and her watched as the liquid slowly moved down the tube, to the chamber, and finally out the spike and into Murphy's arm. She sighed in relief even though her nerves were still going ninety to nothing because she still needed to reinsert the needle. She looked at her patient who was staring at his arm.

"I'm going to get a new drip for you and when I get back I'll reinsert your IV. It'll feel better, then," she said to her patient and turned around.

"Great," she heard him weakly gruff. "More needles."

The second she stepped out in the hall, she heard a loud repetitive beeping sound echoing off the hallway walls, coming from a patient's room. Panic and confusion swept over her as she realized there weren't any nurses or doctors rushing in and out of the room.

"Shit," she said to herself and began jogging in the direction of the noise.

She stopped in front of another officer who was standing outside the room. The fact his face was expressionless aside from a hint of annoyance caused her blood to boil. She kept looking in the direction of the nurses station but aside from the police officers, the hall was empty. She looked at the officer who raised his eyebrows, her panic increasing by the second.

"CODE BLUE," she screamed down the hall hoping someone would hear her and she turned to enter the room but the officer placed his arm in front of her.

"No one is allowed in there," he gruffly said. "Dr. Wallace's orders."

The vein in her forehead exploded.

"The person in that room is having a fucking heart attack!" she yelled. "Do you see Dr. Wallace anywhere?" she said, motioning around her. "You have your job, I have mine. Now get the hell out of my way before their death becomes YOUR problem!"

Clarke watched the officer consider her words and he turned his head to look down the hall and she took that opportunity to duck under his arm and enter the room.

"Hey!" She heard behind her but she ignored it as she ran to the patient's bedside. Clarke realized the patient is female and was choking. Clarke didn't hear the woman choking from the sound of the blood pressure monitor. She looked at the numbers, then at the patient's chest, and realized she wasn't having a heart attack – her lung was collapsing.

Quickly Clarke began going through every damn drawer in the room until luckily she found a syringe at the bottom of a medical cabinet. She peeled off the green gloves she used on Murphy and tore through the packaging. By then, two nurses and two officers came running into the room.

"I need fifteen milliliters of lorazepram, now!" she screamed over the rapid beeping.

The nurses rushed around the room and Clarke quickly ran to the woman's side. She watched as one of the nurses injected the medicine into the I.V and the second the medicine was administered, the second Clarke rose her arms above her head calculating the space between the woman's ribs, the syringe in her hands, and slammed down on the woman's chest with as much strength as she could muster. The needle slammed into the woman's chest with a hard thud and Clarke pulled back on the syringe slowly, watching as green and white liquid filled the syringe. She watched the monitor closely as she pulled, her heart slamming against her ribcage while adrenaline pumped into her blood, and a minute later the monitor began to ease and Clarke watched as the patient's blood pressure slowly began to return to normal. Beads of sweat dribbled down Clarke's face as she turned her attention back to the patient and watched as the woman slowly began to breathe. Clarke slowly and carefully removed the syringe and sighed in relief. Suddenly, she realized how exhausted she is.

"What the hell is going on in here?" She heard from the hall. Her, the nurses, and both officers (one of them being Officer Blake, why is he here?) looked back and saw a rabid Dr. Wallace enter the room. His frantic brown eyes found hers before looking at the patient and Clarke watched them widen before growing dark.

"Dr. Griffin," he growled. "Outside. Now." He turned around and stormed out of the room.

Clarke ignored his "now" and instead examined the patient. Her breathing was slowly returning to normal as she took long, even, breaths unlike Clarke who was still panting and breathing heavy while her adrenaline and heart tried to register the danger was over. She looked at the BP monitor and watched as the once frighteningly high numbers continue to decrease. She sighed in relief even though she knew she had an earful waiting for her. She turned around to see the two nurses gawking at her, the officer who wouldn't let her in looked at her disapprovingly, and Officer Blake just looked surprised. Finally, catching her breath, she stares down one of the nurses.

"Where are the IV and drips stored?" She asked.

"The medicine closet," the blond replied. "There's one at the end of every hall." Her wide eyes and blank stare was giving Clarke the creeps.

"Thank you," she replied anyway as she left the room.

Outside in the hall, Cage Wallace waited for her with his arms crossed and an expression that Clarke can only assume as pissed. She didn't care. Because at the moment, no one could be more pissed than she is.

"What do you think you're doing?" He barked. His voice is loud and Clarke can't tell if the volume is intentional or a reaction. She's known several doctors who has used intimidation as a scare tactic to make patients talk or make incompetent nurses work faster.

She crossed her arms and met his eyes. "I believe I was saving your patient-" she threw back, her voice just as loud as his. If he wanted to make a scene, that was fine by her. She's wanted to throw a temper tantrum since she stepped foot on this floor. "-Who was dying because her lungs were collapsing of fluid intake." Is this seriously happening? Is he actually pissed because she saved her life?

"You were assigned one patient and one patient, only. The others are not your concern! This is your first time on level six. You have no idea how my level works-"

Now she understands why he's so pissed. To hell with the fact a person almost died because no one was around as she was collapsing. Its about territory. And Clarke just happened to piss on the same fire hydrant.

"Apparently things don't work on your level. Not only was my patient's drip broken but his IV was improperly inserted!" She couldn't tolerate it anymore. To hell with being professional if no one else is willing to abide by the same code. "She was dying-" She motioned to the patient's room behind her.

"-and there was no one else around! No one. Even they didn't arrive-" she motioned to the nurses who were tip toeing past them. "-until after I called the code. Do you expect me to ignore someone is dying because I-"

"I expect you, Dr. Griffin, to do your job," he growled. She didn't break eye contact as she took a step froward.

"That's exactly what I did," she spat back, her voice steady and serious.

He paused to consider her words and exhaled a frustrated breath.

"You're here to treat your patient and your patient only," he said. "Remember that," he warned. He finally looked away, nodded at the guarding officer, and turned on his heel.

Clarke knew she looked stable on the outside because she never let her guard down, but on the inside she was beginning to question if she was the right doctor for this. She started walking in the opposite direction down the hall to find the medical closet. She has buried a mile long list of emotions today alone, but as she walks down the hall she's unable to shake the doubt that's rising in her mind.