It Began With A Gunshot

At The Hospital

*Mike's POV*
"OK, Mrs. Wright. You're thirty-four weeks pregnant, spouse of Frank Wright, blood type A positive and asthmatic, am I right?"

"Yes."

"I'm guessing you've just gone into labour?"

"Yes."

"OK, then. Will, would you take her to cubicle 3, we should have a private labour room ready in the next quarter of an hour, Ma'am."

Will wheeled her off and the doors banged open again. Two guys were being brought in.

One had black hair and was unconscious and bleeding, the other was unconscious with auburn hair. I recognised the second man as President Wright.

"What's going on?" I asked a paramedic as Secret Service agents brought in a handcuffed man with, a rather messy, broken nose.

"That guy.." she said, pointing at the handcuffed guy, "..tried to shoot President Wright. But, that guy.." she continued, pointing at the guy with black hair. "..took the bullet."

"Steve, take the President into cubicles and get him ready for X-rays, we need to see if he has any broken bones. Laura, take the handcuffed guy to cubicles and clean up his nose. Emily, you and I will take this guy to theatre. We need to get the bullet out and stop the bleeding. Also, Mark, would you tell Mrs Wright that her husband is here. Tell her that he was involved in a slight scuffle outside, but is being checked over. She's in labour, cubicle 3. Be nice."

We all went our separate ways and Emily wheeled the guy through the doors. Harriet and Luke were in there, looking at scans.

"Guys, I'm going to need some help," I said. "We've got a male, looks to be in his early to mid twenties, he's got a shot wound in his shoulder. At the moment he's unconscious but we need him under anaesthetic so we can get the bullet out. Emily, check his pockets for ID and get the secretary to call his family."

We got to work. Emily found his wallet and cellphone. She went to sort that stuff out and check on the President.

I pulled on a mask, gloves and gown and began to examine the wound.

"This looks quite deep," I said, frowning.

"Hey, Doc, all of our patients say you're the best thing in town," Luke smiled. "If anyone can save him, you can."

I smiled back. I hoped so.

*Frank's POV*
Suddenly, everything was bright. I began to sat up, clutching my throbbing head. I saw nurses all around me.

"Hey, what happened?"

"Ah, Mr. President. You're awake," one of the nurses came over. "I'm Abigail. You were walking into hospital when a man tried to kill you. Luckily, somebody jumped in front of you and took the bullet."

"Wait, that's not lucky!" I exclaimed. "Some poor bastard's been shot because of me!!"

"He is alive Sir," the nurse said quickly. "Dr. Pritchard is operating on him right now. He's the best doctor in town, if anyone can save him, he can."

I lay back on my pillows. "So, is anything wrong with me?"

"You suffered a blow to the head and have a broken ankle. We also think you have concussion."

"OK." I sat there, silently for a while as the nurse filled out notes on a clipboard.

"Shit! My wife's here! She's in labour! I've got to go see her!" I made as if to get up, but she pushed me down.

"Mr. President, we need to put your ankle in a cast, then we will get you a wheel chair and take you to your wife. She's only at two centimetres, it's going to be a while."

*Mike's POV*
After one and a half hours, we had finally located and removed the bullet. Harriet was stitching up the wound.

"Good job guys, well done," I said, wiping sweat from my forehead. "Now, get Alex in here to take him for some scans, then we can fix whatever bones he's broken."

Luke nodded and went to find Alex. Emily walked in.

"Well, I've done some checks on him. His name is Billie Joe Armstrong, he's youngest of six children, father died of cancer of the esophagus when Billie was ten. No sign to show that he has inherited the cancer, but I'd run a check to make sure. He's twenty-four years old and suffers from anxiety, I believe and is unmarried. His mother lives in California, so he has no immediate family nearby. No one we can call, no girlfriend, no one."

"OK, thanks Em," I said. "Good job. Could you call his Mom and let her know we've got him here?"

"Sure. Also, the President wants to see you."

I was shocked. Why would the President want to see me? I walked out of theatre and around to cubicle 6. I drew back the curtain and there he was.

Frank Wright, President of the United States of America. He saw me and grinned, he reminded me of Louie when he grinned.

"So, I finally get to meet the infamous Dr. Pritchard."

I was stunned. How had he heard of me?

"So, I finally get to meet the infamous President Wright," I responded. As soon as the words had left my mouth, I was kicking myself at my stupidity.

He laughed though, mouth open, showing straight, white teeth. "Good to see you have a sense of humour."

"How have you heard of me, Sir?"

"Firstly, call me Frank. Secondly, everyone here raves about you! It's Dr. Pritchard this, and Dr. Pritchard that... . They really admire you."

"Oh." I blushed. "Sir... ."

"Frank," he corrected me.

"OK, Frank, why was it you wanted to talk to me?"

"I wanted to know how the young man that saved me was doing."

"Ah, he's a Mr. Billie Joe Armstrong, he's twenty-four, unmarried... shit.. I'm not meant to be telling you this."

Again, the President... sorry, Frank smiled. "Don't worry. The only people that know are you, me and these curtains." He lowered his voice. "I don't think we can trust the curtains though. They look... weak and pink."

I smiled. He was a nice guy.

"Uh, Mr Armstrong was shot in the shoulder. We found and removed the bullet. I think that he has a broken wrist and several cracked ribs, but we're running scans to check."

"Well, I shall take the both of you out to dinner when we are all restored to full health."

I nodded. Then, Emily poked her head round the curtain.

"Mr. President, we have a wheel chair for you. I'll take you to see your wife now."

"Ah, Frank, this is Emily, one of the paramedics. Thank you Emily, I'm meant to be seeing to Mrs. Wright, so I shall come with you."

I helped Emily get Frank into the wheel chair and we took him to one of the private labour rooms, where his wife was lying on the bed, looking thoroughly miserable.

"Mrs. Wright, how are you?"

"Not at my best," she smiled.

"We have your husband here," I said gesturing at Frank as Emily wheeled him over to the bed.

"What happened outside? I thought I heard a gunshot... "

"Somebody tried to shoot your husband, but a man pushed him out of the way and took the bullet for him. The man that saved your husband is set to recover, we just need to do some scans to check how he is," I replied. "Your husband has concussion and a broken ankle."

Mrs. Wright looked shocked, whereas Frank looked rather bemused by it all.

"Yeah, I'm going to take Dr. Pritchard and this Billie Joe dude out to dinner, and figure out a suitable reward."

"Mrs. Wright, I need to assess your situation. Do you mind... ?"

"Oh, no not at all," she said. Frank blushed and began to wheel himself out.

"I'll wait outside."

*Frank's POV*
As I waited outside, I thought about what it would be like to be a Dad. I mean, I knew that my Dad enjoyed it, I think, but what the Hell would it be like having a person that relied on, well, just you?

I was starting to freak myself out, so I started thinking about the drumbeat I was working on and a song I'd written. It was called Dominated Love Slave. I played it to Eleanor, but she had just looked shocked and walked out. She hadn't spoken about it since.

Then I started to think of names. We hadn't wanted to know the sex of the baby, so I had made a list of names, my two favourite girls names were Ramona and Lily, my two favourite boys names were Frankito and Johnny. I knew Eleanor would only agree to Lily, I had put forward all names, but she had rejected them. We both agreed that the baby would be called Lily if it was a girl and Edward if it was a boy.

Dr. Pritchard walked out. "Frank, your wife is now at five centimetres. She's moving along quite quickly, so the baby should be here within two to three hours."

"Thank you very much. What's your name?"

"Michael."

"Thank you, Michael."

*Mike's POV*
We had put Billie's wrist in plaster and discovered he had cracked three of his ribs. He was now under pain killers and would wake up in the next few hours. I peeled off my gloves and went back to the labour room.

"Hello Mrs. Wright," I said, walking over to her. I checked how far she was. "Ten centimetres."

She gasped and Frank looked shocked. I smiled. "Emily, Steve, would you take Mrs. Wright through to the delivery room? Congratulations, you're about to become parents."

I thought I saw tears mist over Frank's eyes as his wife was taken out. I pushed his wheel chair down the corridoor, following Emily, Steve and Mrs. Wright. We entered the delivery room. I put Frank's wheel chair by Mrs. Wright's bed. She grasped Frank's hand.

*Billie Joe's POV*
Whoa. I opened my eyes and saw blinding whiteness. There were people all around me, none of whom I recognised. My chest ached and my wrist felt heavier. I looked down and saw a plaster cast, covering my wrist like a bracelet.

Where the Hell was I?