The West Wing

Everything about Boulder City's Saint E's was smaller then the on in Vegas, including the Styrofoam cups that they gave you in the break room to put your coffee in. But, what could you expect? After all, it was tiny compaired to Vegas. I gave a sigh as I systematically added two sugars and one cream to the bitter brew. The days were a lot slower too. We only had three people in that day, simple stuff too, of which I got to work one. But, that story comes in time, we're not there yet.

I leaned back against the counter, and looked around, even the break-room was smaller. A nurse walked in and fell onto the couch, bags under his eyes and face dead. It looked like the hours were about the same as in Vegas. I couldn't help but to flash a quick smile and chuckle, I could remember being in the same predicament so many times. His brown blood shot eyes looked up at me, I just shrugged and went to sit on an overly plush, yet as hard as a rock, hospital lounge chair.

"Your the new guy?" He asked, his deeper voice matching his bearded face.

"Yea." I replied, sipping on my coffee.

"Welcome to Boulder's Saint E's. I'm Jon. You?" Jon spoke as if he hadn't already read my ID tag five times over.

"Pete Wentz."

"Wait, so, your that really good doctor from Vegas we always hear about down here?"

"The one and only" I smiled.

"Wow."

Jon shut his eyes, interested but to tired to care...yea, right. He's cute. I thought, picturing the way he looked up at my with his brown eyes a minute ago. Then again, anything is better then Ryan. The door opened as another nurse entered. I got a stare from this one, sizing up the competition, blue eyes examining me from behind thick rimmed glasses. I felt my face flush nice and light, he probably couldn't see it...yet. I had judged Jon just a bit too soon. This guy was fine. He had it all figured out, blonde hair and light blue scrubs to compliment his icy blue-almost gray-eyes.

"So, your the new guy, huh?"

I took a guess that I'd be hearing that one all day.

"Hmm? Oh...yea." His voice still rang in my ears as I smirked, heavenly.

He hut up as he fixed his coffee and with nothing to distract me, my eyes fell right where they shouldn't; his butt. And, god, did he have one. It was perfect; Nicely rounded, slightly plump, the best kind of hand hold during a make-out...and I couldn't take my eyes off of it. Beautiful in every way imaginable. I felt a fetish come over me, my heart skipping just one vital beat and eyes blinked one time too many.

"Wentz, dude. If your smart you won't look at Patrick like that again." Jon laughed from beside me.

"What?" I threw my eyes onto my coffee.

"Like how?" Patrick turned around, his face slightly angry and certainly confused.

"He pretty much felt you up with his eyes." Jon smirked.

"Did not!" I protested in my defense. "I've been looking at my coffee this whole time!"

"Jon, don't mumble like that." Patrick's ear's failed, his mind distracted. And, the way he licked his lips of the bitter that decided to stay behind, I shouldn't of been staring. But, as always, my disobedient eyes were. "Wentz, what in the world is up with those scrubs and the guy-liner?"

I looked down at myself, black scrubs with the Clandestine logo on the right with a swirl coming off of it. "Um. it's...it's just what I would, um normally wear." I couldn't think with his eyes on my like that.

"Right..." Patrick sipped his coffee. "What were you saying, Jon?"

"He felt you up with his eyes." Jon made sure he was nicely articulate as he pointed at me, eyes closed and s smirk predominantly displaced on his face.

There was a simultaneous "What!?" and "I did not!".

Patrick glared at me. So, maybe he wasn't having a good day...either way, I thought something like that might of come off as flattering. Apparently not.

"Wentz?" Jon asked in a slight whisper, his eyes open again.

"Yea?" I didn't dare move my eyes from Patrick with the stance he was in.

"If you don't want burning hot coffee all over you, I suggest you run." And, Jon was serious.

So, after doing a quick double take on the way Patrick was holding his cup, I abandoned mine along with my dignity and ran for my life.

My office was smaller too. I was used to the big fancy get-up back in Vegas, not the normal and basic this place had to offer. But, when you have no choice, it's better then anything. I swear, was getting more and more claustrophobic by the second. The walls were staring back and closing in. So, even though it might of been wrong at the time, I was glad when a Nurses-Aid requested me down into the emergency area.

"Dr.Wentz, I need you in emergency, room 119." His beard was brown and his ID tag read; "Smith, Spencer. RN 18942; Nurses-Aid."

"Lead the way, Smith."

He seemed nervous, just slightly scared. Was the case that bad or did I just suck at first impressions? It was hard to tell with that kid. Either way, he was defiantly shifty.

It was the only case I got that day...and it was horrible. Not the gruesome horrible where someone's arm has been detached from their body, but the over-reacting horrible. The horrible where the situation's lost control, crashed, burned, and no one will listen or pay attention to not only what your saying but the situation -problem- on hand.

The kid? he was only nine, freaking out, screaming and crying bloody murder, his nose spurting blood all over the place like an oil well. The mother? She way way too young to have a kid that age; 22, freaking out on the boy and the situation, screaming at him as though he had just pushed the Dooms-Day button and stared a world wide nuclear war. And, it only got worse.

"So, what exactly is the problem here, Miss?" I asked as I normally would and looking over the clip-board Spencer had given me as we entered the room.

She did a double take before going wide-eyed with her jaw nicely slacked.

"Miss?" Spencer asked from my side.

"Who...are you?" She sounded genuinely confused.

"I'm Dr.Wentz, I've been assig-"

"Your a doctor!? What kind of freak-shows do they hire here?!" She yelled, throwing her arms up, glaring at me.

"Ma'am, I'm sure your son's in good hands. I'm on of the best doctors in the field." I tried to calmly explain myself.

"I don't care who you are, your not working on my son!" She hissed as she threw a perfectly manicured finger towards the boy.

"Okay, well...look. Why don't you tell me what's wrong and maybe I can help." Spencer tried to negotiate.

"Your not qualified for this one, Nancy!" The woman barked.

Spin flinched at the remark, the look in his eyes hurt me let alone him. Poor boy.

"Miss, you're only making this situation worse for your son." I tried to save Spencer from worse bashing.

"He's the idiot who snorted up my four karate diamond and gold ear-ring my mother gave me!"

"What!?" It was shocked, how do you snort an ear-ring?

"Yea, so get me a real doctor"

"Ma'am, just let me look at the poor boy!" I was slowly losing my patience with the seemingly insane woman as I tried to push past her to help the now pale boy.

"No!" She blocked me off.

"Miss, he's gonna pass out if you don't let me help him!"

"Like. You. Care. You're just in this for the money." She turned her back to Spencer and I. "Now get me a real doctor!"

"If you don't let me help him, especially if something goes wrong while we're over here arguing it out over the most stupid and irrelevant theme, it will be considered child abuse and we will be able to persecute you to the fullest extent!" The idea of fear was always last resort, but always somehow true and case-fitting.

"No! Letting you work on him would be child abuse!"

Spencer turned and left, shutting the Door behind him, surly still holding back tears from the woman's previous remark. but, could I blame him?I gave an annoyed sigh and looked as the boy again. He was calmer now, which meant his body was adjusting to the pain. That, was never a good sign.

"Miss, just let me help him!" My patience was defiantly gone.

"Your not laying a finger on him!" She got up in my face.

"Please?"

"Never!"

Both of us shut up again, glaring at each other with a sniffling boy in the background, as I desperately tried to think up a way to convince the lady to let me work on her now fading in and out of consciousness son. It was then three things happened just barely seconds apart. The first was the thud of the boy as he finally lost consciousness and fell three feet down, head first, off the gurney where he sat. Next came the ear-splitting, drama-queen scream of the woman as she fell to her knees. And, the third?

The third was me, jumping over this lady, and running over to the boy. I ended up picking him up bridal style to get him back on the gurney so I could check for his pulse. It was there, but just barely.

Well, now what!? I thought desperately. CPR!? And, as I thought that, it didn't sound like a half bad idea. But, blood covered his face from his nose down. I shuddered at the thought, but I was a doctor and it could of been the kid's only chance.

Just don't ralph. I told myself as I hopped up onto the gurney, straddling him. Only two deep breaths, you can do this. I tilted his head back and lightly pinched the very top of his nose, careful not to hit the ear-ring lodged in it. Ever-so-hesitantly, I put my mouth to his, delivering two deeper(ish) breaths that surly filled his lung cavities as his blood mixed with my saliva. Thirty pushes I kept repeating the directions in my head as I followed them out.

On through thirty, two at a time; fast paced and behind each other.

No response.

Repeat the above process.

Prep the mind, again.

Mix my saliva with his blood; the taste of iron strong.

Thirty pushes, with the lower hand on the upper chest between the breasts.

And, finally, after another try, there was a gasp and the boy's screams started again. "Mommy!" was the first word out of his mouth, congested due to blood clotting in his nose around the ear-ring, and before I knew it, I was pushed off the gurney and onto the cold linoleum and blocking punches. She was clumsy though, the woman didn't know what she was doing. I was able to push her off, into the gurney were the boy's screams were even louder, and had just enough time to jump up.

"Jeeze, lady! What is your problem!?" I asked, picking up the clip-board I abandoned when I went to help the unconscious boy.

"I told you; don't touch my son!" She screamed.

"I just saved that boy, and if you don't let me help him, he's going to pass out again!"

"The get a real doctor!"

"I am a real doctor, so ma'a-"

I shut up as the door opened, we didn't need anybody seeing this scene. But, as the opener revealed himself, it was my turn to do the double-take-jaw-slack combo. No way that was honestly him standing there. It had been three years since I even saw him, heard his voice. I rubbed my eyes, was I dreaming? Nope, he was still there. My ex, in the flesh.
Ryan