Tolerance Book I (Chicago PD/Med FF) by Frances51163

Chapter Sixty-Eight: Alarm

Turning onto his bad shoulder two nights later Jay woke with a groan.  Easing himself up carefully he pushed the covers back and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  The digital clock read twenty after two.  He sighed.  It seemed it was going to be another long night, or morning.  Picking up his jeans from the end of the bed he put them on slowly and grabbed his shirt and sling from the end of the bed before leaving the room mindful of his sleeping friend in the other bed.

Downstairs in the kitchen the tired man coughed as he carefully put on his shirt but didn't bother with the buttons.  He had just picked up the sling to put it on when a voice spoke from the darkness by the window.

"It's past your bedtime," Conor stood up from the window seat and turned on the soft lighting under the kitchen cabinets before turning to the surprised man.
"You can't talk Doc," Jay went to casually put the sling aside but was stopped.
"Here let me put that on for you," the Surgeon took the sling and gently placed it on the effected arm noting the sigh of relief the other man gave as soon as the strain was taken off his shoulder, "you want a milk or something else?"
"I can manage," Jay looked at the older man as he walked over to the refrigerator, "so how come you're still up?"
"Just had one of those days," Conor took out two glasses as the Detective retrieved firstly the Surgeons' known choice of orange juice handing the carton over before retrieving the milk.
"Tell me," Jay urged as he half filled his glass and watched the Surgeon put the two cartons back before sitting down by the island counter.
"Lost a father today.  His three kids also died. Four, seven and nine years old," Conor explained as he sat down opposite his friend, "even after all this time it still gets me how someones' whole life can be changed irrevocably in a matter of seconds."
"What happened?"
"The car skidded on some ice and he lost control.  No ones' fault.  Just an accident. Car rolled a few times.  The kids were DOA on scene.  The father made it to surgery but coded on the table."
"Damn. You have to notify the mother?"
"Yeah," Conor sighed, "make a fortune if I ever find a way to say the words without hurting someone."
"I hear you.  Won't be easy for her."
"No. It will take a while for it to fully sink in."
"Yeah. The mind can play some cruel tricks on you."
"How so?"
"Well like you said it takes a while for things to sink in. For your mind to comprehend the new reality."
"You speaking from experience?"
"Everyone faces death at some time," Jay didn't offer a proper reply as this wasn't about him, "how about you?"
"To this day I can still remember what it was like after my mother ...... died.  I used to wake up for days ..... weeks after and for the first few moments everything was fine and then suddenly everything would come back to me.  It was like a heavy gate closing with me locked inside with all the pain, the hurt, the anger.   It was such an overwhelming feeling it nearly crushed me.  I don't mind telling you there were times I didn't think I could get through another day."
"Death has a way of making everything else insignificant," Jay nodded as he began to cough, "but you got through those days and the mother will too.  Once she has good people around her."
"You're right. Her parents and in-Laws were with her."
"Guess it's good we don't really know what's going to be thrown in our path along the way."
"Never wanted to be a Fortune Teller."
"Just as well," Jay chuckled, "can't really see you sitting in a parlour reading Tarot cards."
"Thanks, I think."

"What are ye doing up?" Antonio walked in brushing a hand through his bed mussed hair.
"Just talking.  You want a drink?" Conor asked as he stood up to get a refill.
"Nah I'm good," Antonio walked over to sit at the island beside the injured man, "had a nightmare.  Bruce Willis was chasing Sylvester Stallone through the precinct."
"That's what you get for watching Die Hard and Rambo before going to bed," Jay chided rubbing his temple.
"You should stick to Miracle on 34th Street," Conor suggested with a grin as he took his seat again.
"And have James Stewart running around the precinct?"
"You should really speak to someone about your dreams," Jay put in.
"Very funny," Antonio made a face, "least I'm not like Ruzek, dreaming of walking into Mollys naked."
"True."
"What?" Conor demanded looking between the two men with an arched eyebrow.
"Don't ask," Antonio advised sagely before changing the subject to something important, "so what's the plan for tomorrow?"
"You heard what Sarge wants," this time it was Jays' turn to raise a brow in confusion, "ye're going through the discs in case I missed anything."
"I meant what are you doing?"
"He's going to Med for a scan," Conor answered in case Antonio had a job in mind.
"Told you yesterday I'd think about it," Jay pouted.
"You need to get checked out."
"Why?" Antonio asked cutting in with concern.
"It's nothing."
"No harm in the others knowing," Conor looked at the pale man in encouragement.
"He wants me to have an MRI cause of the headaches I've been getting," Jay eventually explained quietly.
"Thought they were part of the concussion."
"They should be easing off by now," Conor supplied before turning to his ill at ease friend, "Jay it's just to be on the safe side.  It might not be anything."
"Sounds like common sense to me," Antonio stated matter of factly.
"Don't have time to be sick," Jay grumbled.
"Think your body says otherwise," the Surgeon said ruefully.

Despite his protests the following afternoon the injured Detective found himself undergoing an MRI Scan at Med as Conor, Will and Adam looked on.

"Never seen him so nervous," Adam frowned as he watched Jay in the other room lying down and then tensing as the supports were aligned beside his head to avoid movement, "Conor he's had MRIs before but I've never seen him like this."
"He was fine the last time," Conor looked more closely at the prone man, noting his free hand was tightly gripping the side of the table as it began to move forward into the machine, "he refused a tranquiliser last time and this time."
"Tranquiliser?" Adam tore his gaze away the MRI room.
"We give them to patients to relax them if they have problems with enclosed places.  We also let them listen to music if they want to," Will spoke distractedly as he looked at his brothers' face on a monitor as the table stopped moving.
"Well he's not claustrophobic," the Detective looked back into the room worriedly, "but there's definitely something wrong."
"Well the scan will take about ten minutes," Conor explained as he pressed the button to activate the speaker in the other room, "Jay this won't take long.  Are you doing okay?"

"Fine," Jay replied even though his eyes were squeezed shut and he struggled to calm his breathing.

He didn't like this. His head and shoulders were encased by the scanner.  His heart was pounding.  The machine walls were closing in.  Then it happened.  The sound of gun fire close by erupted.  Jay struggled in his enclosed environment.  Trying to get out was impossible as he couldn't push his body down along the table to get his head out from under the cylindrical tunnel.  He started thrashing on the table trying to escape.  There was someone in the room with a weapon and he had none!

tbc