DISCLAIMER: I do not own Chicago Med or any of the characters. I updated, it's a Christmas miracle! Actually I was trying to update this two days ago but the website wouldn't let me...Thank you to all those who supported and kept up with me along the way. The reviews were outstanding and I hope you all enjoy this nice, long final chapter. Happy Holidays!

….

Loud yells in the distance. Fluorescent lights passing overhead. The whooshing of a gurney beneath him. All of these things Rhodes experienced as he strolled in and out of consciousness.

"Clear the way!" a blurry figure above him, running with the steadfast gurney, shouted like a drill sergeant.

Halstead?

But Rhodes was hardly able to think more on the matter as an overwhelming tsunami of pain erupted in his abdomen and his mind was smart enough to call "lights out".

Will, panting as he ran a marathon with Rhodes' gurney to the ORs, could not believe the events that had just unfolded.

There he was in the ED, treating an elderly woman for a sore throat, when the metal doors slammed shut in all the exits (twice now) and the blaring sirens were activated.

Instantly, SWAT team members slithered into the ER floor, moving like shadows upstairs. Halstead only knew one person upstairs where SWAT was headed, and he had a feeling a certain Dr. Rhodes had something to do with their appearance.

He ran after them, dread sneaking into his mind, and was appalled to find a ring of armed men surrounding a crying nurse, a crazed man, and a familiar patient in a gown.

And was that a gun in the insane guy's hand?

Police officers pulled him back and quieted him before Will could call out, not seeing how tense the situation was. So he watched from a distance as his friend cleverly addressed the situation, got the nurse free, but wasn't so lucky himself.

Just as progress was being made, an overly eager SWAT officer moved forward, Will watching as the man screamed incomprehensible words and pummeled Rhodes to the floor.

This time, no officers could keep him at bay as Halstead fought against the cop's embrace, calling out for his friend as the schizophrenic rained punches down on him.

A surge of SWAT officers erupted onto the gunman, pulling him of Rhodes, who lay motionless on the floor. Only when the police had apprehended and wrestled the attacker to the ground did the police officer finally let him go.

"Rhodes!" he yelled, running to his friend and dropping to his knees.

He looked down at Connor, unresponsive and shallowly breathing, and he went numb. Blood stained the once spotless hospital gown and was spilling onto the floor, the bleeding originating from his newly ripped stitches. The gushing red from his stomach didn't stop the fact that Rhodes' face was bleeding from the several, hard punches the crazy man threw. He was unconscious and growing pale extremely fast, Halstead finally snapping back into reality.

Dr. Charles unexpectedly emerged from the sea of SWAT and knelt down next to Will, stunned beyond words, but immediately asking his colleague, "What do you need?"

"Gauze," Will quickly demanded, working to save his friend, "We need to stabilize this bleeding as soon as possible. A stapler too for a quick repair, but get a gurney down here and and OR clear, now! He ripped open his stitches but there seems to be some more damage internally. We have to get him operated on or he's going to bleed out."

Dr. Charles was on his feet in an instant and disappearing down the hall. Will, Rhodes' blood now reaching his shoes, clamped his hands over Connor's abdomen, willing the bleeding to stop. He went over his basic skills, his mind moving in a hundred directions.

Airway, clear. Breathing, clear. Circulation, not good. Where's Dr. Charles and that damn gauze?

As if on cue, Dave came briskly down the hall, followed by a team of nurses pulling a gurney along with them.

The rescue squad knelt down next to Connor, who was now slightly moaning, and were about to slip him onto the gurney when Halstead shouted, "Wait!"

Everyone froze, looking at the ER attending for directions.

"When the gunman tackled him, his head hit the floor first," Will could now see the image of Rhodes' skull colliding with the tiled floor, the sound of bone hitting the ground, "Someone, C-spine."

The team did as they were told and they were running down the halls in under a minute, Halstead sat on top of his colleague who was being loaded onto the gurney, his hands still on Rhodes' gushing wound, as they rushed to the ORs.

"Move out of the way!" Halstead screamed at those in their path. He glanced back down at his friend and saw his blue eyes open, but dazed. He groaned, tried looking around, and, accepting failure, closed his eyes once more and drifted.

Just then, the portable EKG machine attached to Rhodes' finger blared in distress.

"His heart's failing, too much blood loss!"

….

"Damn it," Ethan cussed under his breath as blood splattered onto his gown, Rhodes' blood. His friend.

"Choi, you stabilize the hemorrhage?" Halstead barely had time to concentrate as he worked to stop the gushing flow of blood from Connor's leg.

Choi cursed again as he tended Rhodes' cracked skull, the impact of his head on the tiled, hospital floor as his attacker pummeled him to the floor cracked open the bone, soon staining the floor red. Thank goodness they did C-spine.

"Just about, but stats aren't looking good," Ethan responded, shaking his head.

"What do we got?" Natalie briskly walked in, matching the present two ER doctors in a gown and goggles.

"Just about good here, Nat," Choi stepped back from his unconscious, critical patient, sighing.

Rhodes was no where near fine, but just about stable enough for transport to the OR to stop any damage to his stomach that his ripped stitches caused and to finish the treatment to his skull.

"Actually," Halstead called from the lower end of the gurney, the small trauma room on the third floor barely big enough for the small group, "Come finish up these sutures, I'm going to check on the wound we packed."

Manning expertly stepped in and closed the gapping laceration on Rhodes' upper thigh as Halstead moved up to his midsection to readdress the endlessly bleeding cut on his abdomen.

Will mumbled a series of obscene phrases as he noticed the blood red gauze half-haphazardly draped on the once closed stitches. But what frightened and worried Halstead the most was the deep purplish color gradually spreading across his abdomen, an indication of a troublesome diagnosis.

"Stop," Will demanded, Ethan and Natalie looking up in confusion and angst, "He's internally bleeding, if he isn't opened up in the next seven minutes were going to pass the point of no return."

His two colleagues nodded in agreement and each efficiently worked to finish their tasks in order to ship their friend to the surgical floor.

Choi sighed once more, not caring if his exhaustion and anxiety revealed itself. They were trained for this, for the worst case scenario in any situation, and goodness had Ethan seen it all. But nothing can compare to the blow as hard as when one of your own is lying on that table.

Dammit, Rhodes. Had to go and get yourself in the middle of a standoff, didn't you?

Just as the orderlies Halstead had paged entered to wheel the gurney to the OR, something caught Ethan's eye. Something to make him stop dead in his tracks.

He was like electricity, jumping to action in seconds, "Stop! Don't move this gurney. Natalie, we're going to need padding," he looked up from Rhodes' skull, "and lots of it."

Worry tinged his voice, not helping his fear in anyway.

"Choi, what is it?" Halstead stated, all emotion void from his voice, Natalie looking at him in questioning as well.

But Ethan couldn't move, just kept his eyes fixated on his friend's head, his voice catching in his throat.

"Ethan," Manning demanded, needing to know what caused Choi to freeze like that.

Choi finally snapped out of his momentary daze, looking at his confused friends straight in the eye, "He's got battle signs, possible head fracture or hemorrhage."

Natalie looked at the ground, trying to suppress the tears threatening to fall as she watched her close friend visibly decline, but sucked in a big breath and cleared her emotions.

Halstead, on the other hand, acted as if he wasn't even thinking, giving instructions to the orderlies in a matter of seconds.

"Take him to an emergency head CT, no excepti-"

"No."

Halstead paused, greatly confused, and glanced to where the statement came from. His eyes landed on Choi, who had a scalpel in his hands and was staring directly in the middle of Rhodes' skull.

Their friend was still unresponsive on the bed, hooked up to a ventilator and a variety of machines.

"We open him up here, now."

Ethan now shifted his gaze upwards, looking Will and Natalie in turn dead in the eyes. His own reflected uncertainty, frenzy, and determination.

There was a long pause, only the slightly irregular sound of Rhodes' heart monitor breaking the complete silence, until Halstead, nonchalantly said, desperation clear in his tone, "Alright."

The orderlies cleared as Manning shut the door and curtains, holding her breath in nervousness. Halstead moved to Choi's slightly quivering form, who held the fine pointed scalpel directly over Connor's head.

The metal instrument in Choi's hand made a clean incision in Rhodes' skull, blood flooding the trauma bay.

….

Rhodes was in a living paradise, lounging with his beautiful sister, grinning dad, and adoring mother.

Connor was content, his mind finally resting after almost 15 years of emptiness and guilt. Their family was together again, a whole.

His mother looked especially stunning on the soft sand they were laying on, sun rays making her glow and sea spray adding to her glory. She smiled her familiar smile at Rhodes, who laughed in return.

He fell onto his back, the towel and sand cushioning his fall, and he sighed in enjoyment. Here he was, laughing with his mom, actually talking with his dad, and nothing could be better.

A deep, aching started to develop from the back of his head, almost like someone was drilling a hole in that spot.

Ow, he thought to himself, reaching with his hand there instinctively. Nothing was there, no blood, sand, a possible crab. Nothing to explain his sudden, sharp pain.

And there it was again, except much stronger and penetrating, Rhodes visibly curling in on himself to escape the searing pain in his skull.

He couldn't stop a moan from escaping his lips as he shifted from side to side. He could swear he felt something breaking into his head.

What the hell?! he thought, fear rising in his throat.

His family seemed to not notice as they continued to laugh and playfully throw sand at each other.

Rhodes was clearly not having as good of a time as his blinding pain spread aggressively to his side, right where his stomach lay. He lifted up his shirt, and almost screamed to find blood dripping from a new, unclosed wound there.

He glanced wildly, almost as if he was looking for the answers, but couldn't make out a single word. His eyes locked with his mother's, the only one who seemed to notice him at all, let alone his struggle, and whispered in her melodic voice, "You've got to wait a little longer for this to come true."

As she winked, Connor, deeply confused at what she meant, felt an unmeasurable pain erupting throughout his body. His mind swirled away from the beautiful beach and his family together again.

He ended up in the dark prison that was his unconscious mind.

….

Slurred voices. That's all he could make out.

Rhodes refused to open his eyes; it seemed as if the sun was penetrating through his eyelids, even though they were tightly shut closed.

But still, he could hear the light whispers of a pair immersed in their conversation.

"….barely made it off the table. His body is spent from the back to back operations and lack of rest."

"That's what I've been saying, he needs rest. But heaven forbid if he listens."

Connor moaned, the only thing he could do to shut the pair up. It seemed to work as the two figures strode up to him, finally silent, while he won the battle against his drooping eyelids, opening his weary eyes.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," came the wry comment.

Halstead.

Connor groaned once more.

He took in the sights around him, once more in a hospital bed with more tubes sticking out in all directions, and the two livid faces of Will and Maggie.

Maybe I should've kept my eyes closed.

An especially furious nurse Lockwood broke the ice by quickly exploding, "I cannot believe you put all of us through this level of worry and…"

And Maggie launched into her rant, Connor's dazed mind not being able to keep up with her words, however. Her words barely registered in Connor's mind, and the world took a sudden turn to the left…

Halstead seemed to notice the paleness of Rhodes' features, his heavy breathing, and shivers as he cut Maggie off mid-sentence, a dangerous move, "Hey, Maggie, why don't we continue this when Rhodes is on his feet."

She stared Will down hard for a few seconds before conceding, taking a step back, then turning and walking out the door, begrudgingly grumbling her goodbyes. Classic Maggie.

Rhodes made eye contact with Will, silently thanking him. He sighed, knowing he didn't need to put up any performances now that Sheriff Lockwood had gone.

He wasn't feeling that good at all, actually. The world was dangerously spinning at this point and Rhodes pulled his blanket even higher, gathering as much warmth as he could.

Why was the room freezing?

"Mind turning on the heat?" Connor's teeth chattered, almost disappearing in his thin covers.

"No thermostats in hospital rooms," Will answered, feeling quite warm on the contrary.

"Just checking."

I guess sarcasm didn't miraculously go away, Will thought, theoretically rolling his eyes.

Connor knew he had to keep his mind busy or else he wouldn't last that long until darkness encompassed him once more, "So, what's the verdict?"

Halstead sighed and crossed his arm, getting ready to recite the long list of injuries Connor endured, "Collapsed lung, cranial hemorrhaging, internal bleeding, stomach laceration, fractured collarbone, 2 broken ribs, and a dislocated wrist."

Even Connor thought that was pushing it, but played it cool for his colleague.

"What," he joked, "that's it?"

Will laughed along with Rhodes, who broke off in a coughing fit and winced in pain as the gesture disturbed his bruised ribs. The smile on Halstead's face instantly disappeared.

"Got a few visitors too," Halstead mentioned, trying to change the subject to ease Rhodes' pain, keeping him busy.

"Yeah? People still not running for the hills after they heard I saved a woman and stopped a gunman?" he coughed once more, his head plopping back on the pillow in exhaustion. His blue eyes were rimmed with red.

"No, bashing our heads in worked pretty well," Halstead continued the charade, "but, if I recall correctly, he tackled you to the floor and you dropped like a rock."

"Tomato, toMato," he answered, eyes halfway shut in delirium.

Will smiled but drove his point home, wanting to cement in Connor the fact that this wasn't like jamming your finger or stubbing your toe.

"Connor, this wasn't easy, Dr. Schultz said you were this close to not making it off the table. You can't keep pulling stunts like this."

"I know, I know, but me and death have a complicated relationship."

They were both quiet for a moment, reveling in the seriousness of the situation.

"Well, the gunman, who also was identified as your initial attacker when you were first stabbed, has been taken into custody, which Dr. Charles personally assessed," Halstead added, "and the nurse you saved has sent you at least 10 different fruit baskets."

Rhodes smiled, but was too tired to register Halstead's words. Will, seeing this, said, "Why not I come on by with Ethan and Goodwin later on, leave you to it, and check back in in a few hours."

Connor nodded, wanting to answer back, grateful towards the suggestion, but he couldn't formulate words. His weary mind wasn't up to it. Before he could nod once more, his eyes had already closed.

…..

Three and a half weeks.

That length of time played over and over in Connor's head, glad that those 25 days of hell were over. He was back on his feet, in his scrubs, and filling out a patient's chart in the ER, just where he wanted to be.

In those horrible three weeks, Rhodes cursed, barfed, bled, coughed, and cursed some more in his frustrating recovery after almost dying…again. His stitches, which had ripped open two more times since the gunman frenzy, were going to finally be removed this afternoon, but would leave a nasty scar as a result of all the instances they were pulled out of place.

His head was healing too, those stitches weren't going to come out for a while yet, but the hospital's neurosurgeon and Dr. Charles himself had cleared him for work. And here he was, breathing in the blood, sweat, and tears of the ER. Rhodes smiled.

He couldn't move too fast though, his broken ribs protesting, and he subtly hid his cast, keeping his dislocated wrist in place under a dark long sleeve. He couldn't do anything about the sling that harbored his broken collarbone, however, but he only wore it for show when he first walked in for work just to please Maggie. There was no way Connor Rhodes was going to wear that stupid thing all day.

His sister called, even stopped by, after hearing about Connor's injuries; his dad's secretary's assistant called to leave a "get well soon" message on Cornelius Rhodes' behalf. He didn't reply.

Guess you almost die, but the world stays the same, Connor thought in dark amusement.

It was alright, though, he had all the family he wanted right here in the hospital. All his coworkers, Natalie, Will, Maggie, April, Dave, Goodwin, Choi, Sarah, and a few more hospital staff members came to visit and help him in his recovery.

The getting up and walking was a little tough, though he dared not to show even a sign of discomfort to make sure he could get back to work as soon as possible. It was hard getting past Halstead, however, that guy had eyes like a freaking hawk.

Week 1 must have been the worst, where he felt his injuries the most, but as if they were amplified by a thousand. He endured the pain, vomiting sometimes because of it, but never took morphine. That's not what a Rhodes would do, his dad's favorite motto.

And every night he dreamed of his mom, especially in the spell of time from when he was first rushed into surgery to when he woke up. The world was a haze then, bandages and stitches covering his entire body and Choi playing it a little too overconfident at his life-saving catch of Rhodes' head injury.

But now, he was back to work.

The rush of the gurneys, the sirens of the ambulances, the influx of patients with all different injuries. Gunshots, knife wounds, split skull, crash crashes. It was all here and Rhodes didn't want to be anywhere else. He finished the patient's chart he was working on with his signature when he heard the overhead intercom call:

"Dr. Rhodes to the ER. Dr. Rhodes to the ER."

And he obligingly answered the call.