Chapter Text
For some reason, Wednesday nights always seemed to be the worst. He was covering for Samira, who had been scheduled to work the night shift this week. She got the flu, and Dennis was too nice to say no when Dr. Abbot asked him to. Dennis took his first free moment of the night to step out into the ambulance bay to breathe. He watched as his breath materialized in front of him. He should have brought a jacket, but he wasn’t going to risk heading back inside for it. He flicked open the box of cigarettes and grabbed one and the lighter he had tucked in there. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to smoke it or not, but just holding the unlit cigarette between his fingers seemed to be enough for the moment.
The sound of a vehicle flying into the ambulance bay and screeching to a stop already had Dennis in motion. The only time this happened at night was either a pregnant woman giving birth or a drop-and-go. He dropped the unlit cigarette on the ground and started towards the black SUV. He had turned to yell for a gurney and help when a hand clamped over his mouth.
“Don’t fight it, doc,” A graveled voice said directly into his ear. “Just get in the truck.”
Dennis dropped the box of cigarettes and kept his hand clenched around the lighter. It was small, but if he could get enough space, it’d do a lot more damage than his fingers. He threw an elbow out and heard a pained grunt. It wasn’t enough to stop the man he was grappling with.
All Dennis knew was that he did not want to get in that SUV. He’d never get out if he did.
“Fucking hell,” His attacker panted out. It was enough for Dennis to jam the lighter up into the delicate cartilage of the man’s nose. “Jesus. He broke my damn nose. Get this fucker in the car.”
Dennis watched as blood dripped onto the concrete. Dennis thought he’d managed enough to get to safety, but he hadn’t. A heavy blow to the side of his head made him dizzy. The bloodied light clattered to the ground. He lost control of his muscles, and he felt his body being shoved into the backseat of the SUV. He pressed a hand to his head and grimaced. He was bleeding.
“Go!”
The tires screeched as they tore away from the hospital. Dennis tried to scoot and sit up, but a pair of hands on his shoulders kept him in place. His face was smashed into the seat, and his hips and legs were awkwardly crunched on the floorboard.
“Not yet, doc,” A different voice said. “I wish you hadn’t fought. We just needed a doctor.”
“Fucking ask for one,” Dennis snapped out. “Or better, just go inside the ER.”
The man chuckled, “Yeah, I’ll have to remember that the next time we decide to kidnap a doctor.”
“I might not be a doctor,” Dennis pressed his cheek into the leather seat. He hoped he left blood everywhere. If he was going to die, he was taking them all down with him.
“Sent someone ahead to make sure,” The guy answered. Of course they did. Organized kidnappers. Just his damn luck. “We just need your help to take care of our friend. Then, you’re free to go.”
“Let me guess.” Dennis grumbled, “Gang or mafia?”
“When you think about it, it’s the same thing. One is old money, the other is new.” Was the answer he got from the driver. “But mafia, if you want to be technical. We’re almost there, doc. Sorry about this.”
“Sorry about …” Dennis didn’t even have time to ask before a piece of duct tape was slapped over his mouth and a dark bag was pulled over his head. As soon as that was done, his arms were jerked together, and zip ties were pulled over his wrists.
Panic surged through Dennis. He could hold his panic at bay as long as he could see. As long as he could breathe. Fuck. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to suffocate to death. He focused on the feeling of the zip ties cutting into the skin of his wrists. Then he tried to remember the box breathing they walked all their panic attack patients through. When that wasn’t working, he thought about what would happen at the hospital once they realized he was missing. Dr. Abbot would be pissed at first. They’d think he walked off. Abandoned his post. Then Dennis hoped they would realize something bad happened. He wondered how long it would take them to realize something terrible had happened to him.
They’d realize he was missing, right?
The sound of several doors slamming shut, then the door in front of Dennis opening, made Dennis freeze. He let himself be dragged out of the SUV. He struggled to stay balanced on his feet, but it felt impossible. He couldn’t see, his arms were too tight behind him, and his fighting for air made it all worse.
“Come on, kid,” A hand pushed him forward, then stopped him a few steps later. “One step up.”
Dennis skid the toe of his shoe along the step to determine how far up he needed to step. Then let himself be guided again. It smelled old, wherever they had brought him to. He recognized the scuff of shoes against a fine layer of dirt. The sound of their footsteps echoed. They were probably in a warehouse. When they pulled the bag off his head, Dennis took two seconds to look around the empty warehouse before he realized why they had brought him here.
There were two men on a make-shift table. One was straddled over the other’s hips. He was pressing a balled-up shirt against a bleeding wound on the other. Their faces were a blur. It made sense that they needed a doctor. This man was bleeding out. Most likely because of something illegal.
“Hi, Doc. We are in need of your services.”
That was an understatement.
“Take the tape and zip ties off. He ain’t going to run now that he’s seen why he’s here. Do no harm, right Doc?”
Dennis met the curious, blue-eyed gaze. This was the man in charge. Dennis could tell just from the way he held himself, the way he dressed. All crisp lines and neat folds of his white button-down. His hands were bloodied. There was a cut over his eye that definitely needed stitches, but Dennis wasn’t going to make more work for himself.
When they yanked the tape off his mouth, Dennis bit back a gasp. Skin definitely came away with the adhesive. Then a sharp snick of a knife had freed Dennis’s hands. It was instinct, he moved towards the hurt man on the table.
“How long ago was he shot?” Dennis asked as he lifted the shirt. The ooze of blood made Dennis put it back and directed the man on top to hold pressure again.
“About an hour ago,” was the answer he got. “We can’t go to the hospital. You tell us what you need, and we get it. He survives, you’re free to go.”
“Okay,” Dennis debated on whether or not he should help them. He didn’t want to be here, but the only way to get out would be cooperation. He started the list of things he would need in his head before he asked for a pen and paper. “You need to be as fast as possible. A lot of this you can only get from a hospital.”
“How about a medical supply company?” The man perched on his friend asked. His hair was cut short on the sides. Everything about him was feline, agile, and deadly. I
“That should work,” Dennis nodded. “Your friend doesn’t have long. Does anyone know his blood type?”
“O neg.”
Dennis startled when the voice came from the man on the table. Dennis leaned over him and met bloodshot eyes, “Stay awake.”
“Can’t,” He grinded out. “Hurts.”
“I know,” Dennis automatically reached out to brush blood-matted hair out of the man’s face. “I need you to, though. If I’m going to get you through this, you have to stay awake.”
“Okay,” the boss nodded, “Let’s get you what you need. I don’t know about the blood, though. Is there anything else you can do for that?”
“No, he needs blood. I don’t see you knocking over a blood bank, so anyone else willing to donate?” Dennis couldn’t help it. He was pissed he was here, that he was hurt, and these men were going to deal with it.
“Can’t doc,” One of the men raised his hands, “HIV.”
“Right, definitely not,” Dennis looked at the man on the table, “You?”
“You?” He parroted right back at Dennis.
“Fuck it, sure,” Dennis rolled his eyes. He added more supplies, along with sugary drinks and snacks, to the list. “Go, and hurry. In the meantime, I need to assess for further injuries.”
His touch was clinical. He did his best not to focus on how he ended up in a warehouse, men with guns tucked into their jackets, standing over him as he checked on whoever this was to them. The man kept drifting in and out of it. As good a sign as he could hope for at this point.
“You, get down. I need to cut his shirt off him, and then we’ll have to tilt him onto his side. I need to check his back for an exit wound.” Dennis stepped back and ignored the bloody hands that ripped the shirt off the unconscious man. “Someone, hold this other shirt in place. On my count, we tilt him.”
The men were surprisingly accommodating. He ignored the fact that the boss was right beside Dennis, helping him with everything he needed. They did everything Dennis asked for. There was an exit wound and several heavy bruises. It looked like the bruises some cops came in with.
He looked up at the boss, “He was wearing a vest?”
“They sent a second round when we thought everything was clear,” He answered.
“You got a name I can call you?” Dennis asked as he pulled the buckle of the man’s pants free. “And him?”
The boss’s lips quirked, “You can call me James, and that’s Tommy.”
Dennis nodded, totally fake names. Somehow, it made things better. He might be able to get them to slip some kind of information he could use once he made it out of there.
“Well, the blood loss and the tear through the muscle are the worst of it. I can’t be sure that nothing else was damaged by the bullet. Do you know what kind of round it was?” Dennis asked. When the entire warehouse went quiet, he looked up, confused. “What?”
“Surprised you know about different types of ammo, doc. That’s all,” James said.
“Yeah, you look a little,” The man by the door waved his hand.
“Gay?” Dennis rolled his eyes. “Gay men can know about guns. So tell me, do you know what kind of round this was? If it were a hollow-point round, we could be facing a lot more issues than what I can see. If it were a higher caliber, there could be bone fragments floating around.”
“From what we could tell, it was a nine mil,” James answered.
“Well,” Dennis took a deep breath, he froze at the sound of Tommy struggling to breathe, “Fuck, where are they?”
“Rolling in on two wheels now,” The doorman said.
“Okay,” Dennis nodded. He was mentally preparing himself. He had to decide the best order for treatment. He needed to get his blood donation started. Then he could start cleaning, stitching, and treating. This was going to be a long night. “I need better lights. Is that possible?”
The car screeched to a stop, and Dennis could hear people scrambling.
“Flashlights, trunk,” James snapped his fingers to the doorman.
After that, it was a whirlwind of action. The scent of disinfectant and alcohol permeated the warehouse. Dennis directed clumsy hands as if he had done this before. In truth, he was terrified. He couldn’t lose Thomas. He had the doorman squeeze fluids into the IV he had placed. He worked diligently. The man must have fallen on the pavement after he was shot. Dennis had to dig out a couple of tiny fragments. He couldn’t tell if they were metal or asphalt. That didn’t matter.
Once he had enough blood, Dennis clipped his line and handed it to the doorman.
“Hold this, and when I tell you, squeeze it softer than you did the saline,” Dennis instructed him. He looked up at James. “I need you to prep the next bag of fluids. His pulse is slow. I don’t like it.”
James didn’t hesitate; he turned to do exactly what Dennis asked of him. The doorman grumbled about holding his arms up for so long.
“I don’t care that your arms hurt,” Dennis snapped. “My whole body hurts because of this bullshit. Now, squeeze the blood bag.”
The doorman smirked, “Doc Fruity has some bark to him.”
He kept his facial expressions to himself. He looked down at the man he was treating. With the blood entering his system and from the slight light from the flashlights, he was starting to regain a little color.
It didn’t matter, though. This man was going to need imaging. What Dennis was doing was just a band-aid.
The wound was clean, and he was able to stitch it closed. He tapped lightly on Thomas’s face to see if he was hanging in there or if Dennis would need more intervention.
“Thanks, doc,” The man muttered.
“You need a medical facility,” Dennis dropped to the grimy floor. He needed to sit and breathe now that Thomas was out of the woods. “He needs imaging, antibiotics, and more blood than what I was able to give him.”
“We can get him that, doc,” James reached down and touched Dennis’s forehead. “You’re clammy.”
“Adrenaline drop, blood loss, and I haven’t eaten anything tonight,” Dennis wiped his forehead and grimaced. “Apparently, we both need stitches, sir. You want me to take care of that while I’m functioning?”
“Nah,” James waved him off. “It’s time we got you back.”
The doorman didn’t give Dennis any warning. He threw the bag back over his head, and once he had Dennis on his feet, he zip-tied his arms behind his back. “Sorry, doc, but policy.”
Dennis huffed out a laugh, “Even the mafia has policy.”
“Yep,” The doorman guided him out over to the car and shoved him in. “Now, let's get you back. Boss, any last words to the doc?”
“I think it goes without saying, you don’t know who took you. We were all wearing masks.” James said.
“Yeah,” Dennis agreed. “Masks.”
“See you soon, Doc. Thanks. Not everyone would have gone as far as you did for us,” James shut the door and smacked the side of the SUV.
They drove for a few minutes before Dennis got the courage to talk, “No duct tape?”
“Nah,” the doorman shook his head. “You ain’t a screamer. You’re a thinker.”
“Kidnap a lot of people?” Dennis asked sarcastically.
“Sure,” He answered, “For different reasons.”
“I thought I was special,” Dennis muttered to himself.
“You are doc. The boss wouldn’t have let you go if you weren’t. You probably are going to see us again. Don’t be too surprised.” The doorman said. Dennis could tell they were getting closer to the hospital. There were more stops, as if they were at red lights, than when they were near the warehouse.
The fuck? See him again? No thank you. That was not happening. Denis wouldn’t let it. He wasn’t sure how, but this was enough of an experience with the local mafia for a lifetime.
“This is probably going to hurt, doc, but we can’t really stop. There’s another doc outside, he’ll get you taken care of.” The door opened, and the next thing Dennis knew was that he was rolling on the concrete. It bit into his skin, and he groaned when his head slammed against the ground. He couldn’t do much to stop himself. He rode the momentum and lay on the ground. Hoping that the doorman wasn’t lying.
“Jesus fuck!” Dr. Abbot yelled and scrambled over to Dennis. “I need a gurney and the cops out here. Now!”
Dennis grimaced when Dr. Abbot yanked the bag off his head. Dr. Abbot’s hands were on his cheeks, “Okay, Whit, you have to talk to me. What hurts?”
“ ‘m gonna be sick,” Dennis rushed out. Dr. Abbot shifted out of the way and tipped Dennis onto his side so he could puke.
“Definite concussion,” Dr. Abbot muttered.
After that, it was a flurry of activity. Dennis let out a relieved sigh once they cut the zip tie from his wrist. He was in a trauma room. He felt a wave of embarrassment when they cut his clothes off him. He knew they were doing their job. They were going overboard.
“Just the concussion,” Dennis locked eyes with Dr. Abbot, “And whatever happened when they dropped me. I’m okay.”
“No, Whit. You are not okay.” Dr. Abbot grimaced. “You broke at least one finger, if not tw,o when they dropped you. Your head is busted up. You need a CT, possibly an MRI. Did they give you anything? You have a fresh IV, and your hematocrit is low.”
“Had to give blood,” Dennis said only for Dr. Abbot to hear.
“We need blood,” Dr. Abbot ordered. Wordlessly, Ellis moved around him.
“Bag,” Dennis grumbled as he fought against the nausea building in his throat. His mouth watered, and there was no stopping it.
Ellis jumped back, “Fuck. Get it out, Whitaker.”
“Sorry,” Dennis mumbled. He must have hit the ground harder than he thought. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open.
“What the fuck?” Dr. Robby’s voice was loud over the sound of monitors and the action happening. “What happened?”
“Homeboy drop off,” Ellis explained as she set the blood to transfuse.
“Robby,” Jack started, and then he stopped, “He’s why you and the police are here.”
“Okay,” Robby nodded. He stood sentry at the doorway. Not letting anyone else into the room.
It was technically a crime scene now. Dennis was a crime scene. Fuck. Dennis felt himself start to cry. If Robby entered the room, he couldn’t leave.
“Hey,” Dr. Abbot wiped at his tears with a gloved hand, “It’s okay, Whit. You’re okay.”
“I,” Dennis tried to talk, but he wasn’t sure what he really wanted to say. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. You got a shit hand dealt tonight. Let us help you. You’re going to go do some scans. We’re going to set your fingers and check on your ribs.”
“I can’t breathe,” Dennis whined.
Jack looked up at the monitors, and his face shifted into something neutral. He moved quickly and put an oxygen mask on Dennis, “I think you’re panicking, so you need to focus on me. Now, breathe with me.”
Dennis nodded and regretted it. The movement felt like he rocked his brain in his skull.
“What’s going to happen?” Dennis asked softly, his eyes fluttering shut.
“Stay with me, sweetheart,” Dr. Abbot whispered. “You’re going to be okay, that’s what’s going to happen.”
“Tired,” Dennis mumbled.
“We’ve got you,” Dr. Abbot reassured him. “We’ve got you.”