Rated T for safety reasons.
Disclaimer: Belongs to Masashi Kishimoto-sensei, 'nuff said. I'm just poking it with a stick.
Thanks for the reviews(!): evewolf123, Kanjo no Jiyu, auraleek, chibianimefan26, and Arwenia.
read on, lovelies.
Unbeta'd: all mistakes are my own and I will fix them when you or I catch them :)
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Doctor Phillips was good at his job - damn good at his job.
He enjoyed it. He enjoyed saving people. He enjoyed winning.
With that scalpel in his grip he was god. The conductor of his opera. The quarterback of his team. The king of his people.
He wasn't revered as one of the top five best surgeon in the United States for nothing. So it took very little to surprise/startle/disturb him. Digging around in bodies like they were stuffed piñata's while jamming to ACDC, then promptly eating a hearty lunch straightly afterwards - it hardens the soul - and brings out the sick sense of humor only other surgeons (or the sometimes - possibly - certified medical doctors; who should not be placed in the same league - continent! - as surgeons) would appreciate.
Though, that hasn't really stopped his teenage daughter from trying. Bringing home that man-boy named, Gregory; who wore about as much make-up as his daughter, seemed absolutely determined to keep away any sort of color from touching his skin, and had an emotional range of a stone golem.
A golem with baby soft flesh that would cut through nicely - like butter.
"Ambulance 23 arriving in 5. Code blue forty-nine; I repeat, Code blue forty-nine."
With that, he his now brought back around to his original thought:
He was good. He was too good - and as once quoted by fellow surgeon and friend of convenience: Doctor Eric J. Grey, "There is no rest for the wickedly awesome."
With a groan, Doctor Phillips quickly jammed a peanut butter jelly sandwich down his throat. Why couldn't people just try to keep themselves from dying for at least 2 hours? Maybe 30 minutes so I could finish my lunch break. He scowled.
Pulling on his white jacket sloppily over his shoulders he ran out of the break room only to be nearly steam rolled over by Dr. Daniels. A fellow surgeon, unfortunate friend, drinking buddy, and soulmate when it came to the hacking and slashing humor genre.
The blonde surgeon grinned cheekily at him. "Thought Eric was doing ER tonight?"
Phillips grimaced as the two of them pushed passed through the door whisking by a couple of nurses who were scrambling about in the hallway.
"I lost the bet." That earned him non-sympathetic laugh and a nowhere near gentle slap on the shoulder.
"So it was Wegner's Disease!"
Phillips sneered. "It was a lucky guess."
Brown eyes laughed mockingly at him. "So now Eric gets your day off and while you're stuck with his ER duty. Over-time, what shitty luck."
Phillips opened his mouth to execute a well thought out comeback when a murse in purple pushed passed them aside, growling and cursing under his breath about the color blue and time and maybe something about bowel movements. Phillips watched him go curiously before turning back with a raised brow towards his friend.
"What brings you down here?" He asked curiously. Daniels shrugged his shoulders as they pushed past another pair of twin doors.
"You know, Code blue 49." He explained running a hand through his locks, "Possible cardiac failure."
The brunette surgeon nodded and Daniels continued as they neared the end of the hall, the entrance to the Ambulance drop off.
"-but you know how paramedic's are." He affirmed with a grin, "Always exagerat-"
Maybe it was the blood that stopped Daniels from finishing his prejudice sentence. Dark red blood that covered the paramedics, the nurses, and the doctors.
Maybe it was the comatose patient in the gunnery. The ashen white, pale as a ghost, body of a man who was walking too close to death's door.
Maybe it was the screaming. A shock stricken girl with eyes too large, too blue, too wild, and very much alive. She too was covered in blood. In fact, it looked as though she had been swimming in it.
Maybe it was all of the above. Whatever it was, all previous banter and thoughts were lost at the sight.
"Name?" Phillips exclaimed jumping to the gurney's side while Daniels rounded the other.
"Unknown." replied a paramedic.
"How long has he been unconscious?" Daniels questioned unwrapping his stethoscope.
"At least 20 minutes." replied another, a blonde paramedic, who practically shoved a clipboard in Phillips hands. "Age range is suspected to be between 18 and 25, blood type unknown, ethnicity seems to be Asian possibly Chinese. Wounds include: bruising, lacerations, burns, possible internal bleeding, and possible fractures." The paramedic shook her head. "This guy...someone sure had a hard on for him. If they wanted him dead, they nearly succeeded."
"The day's still young." Daniels interrupted removing his stethoscope. "And this guy is not out of the woods yet." He caught Phillips gaze, "I need to get this guy into surgery. I need to assess the damage."
"Great," Phillips cursed, "I've got a unknown assaulted victim, who could quiet possibly upgrading to unknown murdered victim, just what I need on my day off. Call the OR tell them we're coming down."
As a nurse muttered a quick "yes, doctor" and scurried away, another paramedic spoke up with a look of amazement crossing his face. "He has undergone heart arrest four times now. We've managed to keep bringing him back, but really, the only thing keeping him still alive has to be his will."
"Or god." Whispered a blonde nurse who was pressing down on a profusely bleeding wound on the john doe's side.
"Lets save that debate for later." Daniels grunted before turning a fierce glare to a couple nurses and a murse. "Lets get him down to surgery; now." Phillips stepped aside as the gurney was pushed after the scurrying nurses. Instead of following, he turned towards a paramedic who was wiping his hands on a blue cloth.
"And the girl?" he asked glancing over to the brunette woman sitting frozen in a wheelchair she had been ushered into by a couple of nurses.
The paramedic gave a glance. "Her name is Anna Kooper, she is the one who found the John Doe. No injuries from what we could tell, but she seems to be in shock."
"Did she give any explanation on how our guest ended up the way he is?"
His shrug was about as much help as his answer. "She said he fell from her ceiling."
Phillips frowned. "He was on her ceiling?"
The paramedic shook his head tossing the towel in a basket. He gave the doctor a incredulous look.
"No. Apparently she was leaving her apartment, when he suddenly appeared, like magic, falling through her ceiling."
"Right." Phillip nodded, brow raised. A nurse in green scrubs began to run past, but he quickly caught her arm, halting her. "Please call psych to the ER."
"Yes, Doctor." she answered with a nod. Phillips released her and turned back towards his witness/patient.
"Miss. Kooper?" Phillips started calmly walking over to the immobile girl. "Anna? Is it alright if I call you that?"
Her blue eyes stared forward unblinking. Well, it wasn't a no.
"Alright, Anna, I am going to shine this light in your eyes just to make sure you don't have a concussion."
As he took out his light from he breast pocket, her nostrils flared for just a moment and there was a small twitch on the corner of her lips.
Oh, Phillips kept his face neutral as he flashed the light over her face, Miss. Kooper has a temper.
"Okay, next I'm going to check your chest, so I am going to have to ask you to sit forward and breathe in deeply as you can." Once again, he received a blank stare. Phillips repressed a sigh as he pressed forward, going slowly as possible, so he would not scare the girl.
Damn it, he was never good with this victim pleasantries crap. Where the hell was a nice bleeding body to dig around into when he needed one? Oh yeah. It was with Daniels in his O.R. Lucky son of -
A nurse caught his attention from the main desk. She signaled with her eyes to the phone and then to the patient he was currently assessing.
Psych was on there way. Awesome. Maybe he would still make it in time to scrub in. With his stethoscope pressed to the girl's back with only slightly - just a little - impatience.
Lungs clear. No sign of blocked passageways or congestion.
So she was fine.
So she was boring.
Ugh, where was psych?
"Alright, Anna," Phillips began as he wrapped his stethoscope back around his neck, briefly wondering if Daniels cracked the john doe's chest yet. "Everything sounds clear, so it looks like you will be able to leave in a couple hours. Is there someone we can contact for you?"
Blue eyes stared at Phillips unwavering, almost unsettlingly so, but they pooled with tears. Free falling from her lashes without as so much as a facial twitch.
Okaaay. New tactic.
"Do you know of anybody we can contact for your friend?"
That received a reaction. She groaned, a sound mimicking that of an agitated cat, and grabbed the sides of her head. With fistfuls of hair, she shook and nodded, mumbling softly something that suspiciously sounded like fuck, fuck, fuck. Or it could of been duck, duck, duck, he honestly didn't care.
Ahh, and there is psych, punctual as always.
Doctor Berry rounded the corner looking prissy as usual in her high heels and fancy looking suit. Berry turned those sharp green eyes to her brand spanking new patient then onto him. She actually had the gall to narrow her eyes accusingly! As if blaming him for the girl's mental break down! Phillips felt slightly offended. Wasn't his fault some people couldn't handle bleeding bodies. So Phillips glared, and nodded towards the girl. An unsaid command to take her off his hands so he can go back to saving lives. Like the one who could be bleeding out all over his operating table because Daniels is an idiot and a thief.
Berry bristled, her face actually scrunching into a nasty looking scowl as she walked over quickly. She looked like she wanted him punch in the face. Wait, his face? Oopsie daisy. Phillips smiled cheekily at her. Guess his doctor facade accidentally slipped and he was sporting his so boring beyond belief expression towards the patient.
He really truly wasn't good with this victim pleasantries crap.
As she approached, Berry's bitch (default) mode slowly faded away to her Oh, you poor baby! Mama's going to take care of you! mode. Phillips got unceremoniously pushed out of the way, not that he was complaining - much - and he was honorably discharged. He began his retreat just as Berry started her inner healing treatment. He was just about home free when he heard Berry ask a curious question.
"Do you know that young man, honey? Do you know his name?"
Phillips didn't really know why he stopped. Curiosity maybe, but he never cared for a patient's name before. Whatever it was, everything around him seemed to quiet to a low hum despite the busy hustle of the hospital. He could hear Berry's soothing words and the girl's irregular breathing perfectly. It was as if someone turned down the background noise.
The girl's - Anna's - voice was soft, raspy, and hesitant. Thick with emotion and tight with nerves. Phillips strained to hear.
"I-I-It-It-Itachi." She whispered. "H-his name. H-his n-name is It-Itachi."
Berry sugar coated it. "That's a lovely name."
Sounds like a sneeze. Phillips mused with a smile. A murse ran into him, and the spell, seizure, psychosis, whatever the hell that was; broke - and the noise level rose dramatically back to normal.
"Whelp." He quipped with a shit eating grin. "Best go see that Daniels doesn't kill the patient. If he hasn't already."
Phillips jogged to the elevator with a slight skip, earlier aggression now seeping away to pure elation. Today was going way better than he first thought.
Eric, you unlucky bastard!
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Perhaps misguided moral compassion is better than confused indifference.
~Iris Murdoch
*murse: Phillips word for a male nurse, because he is an asshole.