Warning: medical emergency, references to trauma, etc. Nothing really gory. These are realistic injuries, however. Just be aware.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hot Fuzz. (Damn.)
Inspired by Heart Shaped Box by Nirvana
oo1
Nicholas stood in front of the mirror. The water was running. A man returned his stare, dusty, bloody, and unfamiliar. His head hurt. He smelled sweat and smoke. His ears rang. The lights seared his eyes. It felt like a hand was pressing him through the floor. He bent over the sink and breathed slowly. Every breath sounded like a train in a tunnel.
He started shaking. Grief? Terror? It went too deep for feeling. So he stood there, shaking and gulping and not crying. He pressed his raw palms against his eyes.
Someone grasped his shoulder. He glanced in the mirror and saw a male nurse. His lips were moving, he looked anxious, but his voice was lost beneath the roar of air in his throat. Nicholas was led out of the bathroom and down the hallway.
Everything looked unfamiliar. He wasn't at the station. People surged towards him all atonce like ants spurting out of the ground. There were faces he recognized, others he didn't. The nurse pushed them aside and steered Nicholas into an empty room. It had plastic tubes and noisy equipment. The air crackled.
The nurse guided him onto the bed like a puppeteer. He was suddenly staring at the ceiling. A plastic mask descended and his breathing didn't sound so loud. The cold tickle of scissors travelled up his chest. His shirt fell away in grey tatters. He glimpsed his chest. It had a hard red stripe where the filing cabinet had landed. He could see lines where the handles had been.
All the frantic activity overhead paused. Six sets of eyes peered at him. He knew that look. He had been trained to wear that look. He struggled to absorb what was happening. He tried to sit up.
It was like taking off his headphones.
Pain. Blinding light. Choking. Hands on his skin. Alarms. Panic.
Nicholas tried to punch the nearest assailant. They were cutting off his pants. Tubes looped across his arms and chest. He jerked on the nearest one and nearly fainted. Electronic wailing filled the room.
"He's combative."
"Can someone please get that IV?"
"I'm not getting a pedal pulse in the left leg."
"—there's burns on both hands—"
"Damn."
Hands descended, pressed on his arms and legs and ohgod it hurt. Their collective strength hammered down on him. He fought harder, squeezing his eyes against the humming lights overhead. Something was on his face. He couldn't breathe.
"Hold him down. We need that chest tube. Is a theatre free yet?"
"I'll ask."
Someone touched his forehead, stroked his hair. "Nicholas. Nicholas, that's your name, right?" He opened his eyes to see a woman overhead. Her face was young and calm. He nodded slowly. "My name is Nina. You're at Buford Abbey Hospital. Do you understand?" He blinked slowly, then nodded again. The hands retreated. "Good. Okay, Nicholas. I need you to look at me." She withdrew a small flashlight and shone it in his eyes. He grimaced, but didn't resist. "Pupils are uneven," she remarked to someone over her shoulder.
Nicholas tried to tap her arm, but someone held them down, wrapped them in something cool and soothing. She caught the movement.
"Yes?"
He mouthed 'Danny' but Nina's brows furrowed in confusion. "Shh," she said, and stroked his forehead. Her gloves were warm and smelled of latex. "Relax Nicholas. Everything is going to be fine."
That's what he said when people were dying. 'You're going to be fine, ma'am. Everything is going to be fine.' Just like that. Her eyes were large and searching.
"Nicholas, look at me."
The ceiling swirled overhead, white then grey then black.
"He's crashing!"
Sirens wailed in the distance. Reinforcements had arrived. The day was saved. The movie was finished. He could finally just…
…switch off.
I hope that wasn't melodramatic. Bah. Any questions/comments, just lemme know. Feedback is always appreciated!