NaNo #28 Things G Trusts Sam With, #5

[miss_lucy21]

Sam took a deep breath and closed his eyes so he didn't have to see G's too still body for a moment. He was sitting in the ICU, next to his partner's bed, waiting. It was still unclear whether Sam was going to still *have* a partner, but Sam was going to have G's back up until the very end if it came to it.

This was the third day since G had been shot. The first night had been consumed with 12 hours of surgery, digging out the *five* bullets, tying things off, stitching things up, re-inflating a collapsed lung, realigning a fractured shoulder/collarbone, and generally making sure that things that were not supposed to have holes in them no longer had holes in them. It had taken a team of four surgeons to put G back together. But, they'd done it, and now it was a matter of just giving G enough time to heal, if he could. They were cautiously optimistic; G was in good physical condition with no health problems and he was fucking stubborn (Macy's words, not the doctors'). The major concern at the moment was preventing infection and the fact that he'd coded in the ambulance and once during surgery before they'd been able to replace his blood volume. That meant his brain had been without oxygen for awhile, which meant that there could be what one of the doctors had termed "some impairment". The neurologist had secured Sam's everlasting gratitude by snorting at that phrase and saying that yeah, it was possible G could have problems ranging from memory loss to problems speaking, reading, taking care of himself, or any number of other issues when he woke up (she used "when", not "if", which was the second reason why Sam liked her). But it was equally possible that he'd wake up and be just fine, and they wouldn't know which it would be until they let him wake up. And she'd reassured Sam that if there were problems, it was entirely possible that they wouldn't be permanent, because the brain really could recover better than they'd ever thought possible.

But it wasn't worth worrying about just yet, because G had bigger problems at the moment. He wasn't breathing on his own. The respiratory therapists had been reassuring, too, saying that G probably *could* breathe on his own if he had to, but right now, they didn't *want* him to. Breathing took up a lot of energy and they wanted to give G's body as much support as possible so all his energy could go to healing and not to things like breathing and digesting. So they'd given him some really heavy duty sedatives and put him on the ventilator and were giving him nutrition and fluids through the central line they'd put in during surgery. They'd told Sam that in a couple of days, they'd see if G was ready to breathe for himself, but until then, the only movement G's body made was the mechanical rising and falling of his chest caused by the ventilator.

This wasn't to say that G wasn't in there. Sam was sure he was; the nurses had noticed that his heart rate and other vital signs went haywire whenever Sam was forced to leave due to the restricted visitor's hours and that they were much better when Sam was around. The nurses had let him stay as long as he could after they'd figured out that it was Sam specifically that calmed G down, and the doctors had approved it, even giving Sam a key card to the ICU so he could come and go without having to get someone to open the doors. Sam had a feeling that the discussion that Macy'd had with the hospital about the fact that G was a federal agent and that his shooting might be case related and probably classified had something to do with how accommodating the medical staff was. Fortunately, G's current walking around alias was Greg Mitchell, so Sam calling him G didn't seem too odd to the staff. At some point, Sam was probably going to have to explain that it was an alias because they were going to ask G what his name was when he woke up and chances were good G wasn't going to remember which name he'd been going by when he'd been shot. But he probably had some time before that point.

The next two days had been a blur of just waiting and watching. The doctors who came in and out all seemed to be pleased with how G was doing. Sam couldn't tell any difference between how G'd looked when he'd first come out of surgery and today, but he was informed that while G was still in critical condition, he was improving, slowly. Sam hadn't seen any doctors yet today- sometimes they came while he was out checking in with Macy or handling things that really needed to be done- but he had a feeling that G was kind of agitated right now. He couldn't put his finger on why, exactly, but something seemed to be different. He'd been assured multiple times that G wasn't feeling much of anything right now, but that didn't seem to be quite true. He hit the call button and gently rubbed the back of G's hand while he waited for the nurse.

"Hello!" Kathy said, coming into the room (Sam was on a first name basis with all of the nurses by now). "What's up?"

"He seems kind of agitated," Sam said. "I don't know why."

"Hmm," Kathy said. She checked the monitors and made sure the leads were all where they belonged. "I'm not changing your bandages, Mr. Mitchell," she said, reassuringly- they'd noticed that G seemed to really not like that. "Just checking things out." She smiled at Sam as she straightened up. "I think he's fighting the ventilator."

"What's that mean?" Sam asked.

"That he's trying to breathe on his own," she said. "I'll call Michael and see what he wants to do." Michael was the respiratory therapist that Sam liked the best. The other ones who'd seen G were fine, but Michael had gone out of his way to make sure Sam understood everything that was going on.

"Ok, great," Sam said. He looked down at G as Kathy left the room. "You keep fighting, G," he said. "Hang in there."

Michael and Kathy came back into the room about five minutes later. "Kathy says he's fighting the vent, huh?" Michael said. Sam nodded. "Well, let's see something." He fiddled with the settings on the ventilator and stepped back, watching G closely. The mechanical movement of his chest stopped, and Sam held his own breath until he saw G's chest rise unsteadily on its own a moment later. "Hey, there you go!" Michael said. "Good job. Do it again." G did, as though he'd heard the encouragement. "Excellent." Michael said. He noted something on G's chart, looked up at the monitors again and turned to Kathy "We'll see how he does for the next half hour. I'll hang around on the floor and check on some other patients. If his sats drop below 95, come get me."

"Right," Kathy said.

"Ok," Michael said to Sam. "We're going to see if he can breathe enough to keep enough oxygen in his system over the next half hour. If he can, then we'll leave the vent switched off for awhile to let him breathe on his own. If he can't do it, we'll turn it back on."

"Yeah, ok," Sam said.

"All right," Michael said. "I will be back in about 30 minutes. Kathy will keep an eye on his monitors and let me know if something's wrong."

"Ok," Sam nodded. Michael nodded back and left the room.

Kathy smiled at Sam. "You see this number?" she asked, pointing at the number 98 on the screen that displayed G's heart beat.

"Yeah," Sam said.

"That's his pulse-ox, the level of oxygen in his blood. I'll be watching from the desk, but you keep an eye on it, too, ok? It will probably fluctuate a little, and might drop some. If it goes down to 95, hit the call button. I'll probably already be on my way to check, but just in case," she said.

"Got it," Sam said, watching the number.

"I'll be back in a few minutes to make sure everything's still going ok," Kathy said before she left the room.

Sam divided his attention between G's chest and the pulse-ox number. It did fluctuate a little, dropping to 96 before coming back up to 98. But it stayed above 95 until Michael came back a half hour later.

"How's he doing?" Michael asked.

"Good," Sam said.

"Excellent," Michael said. He watched G breathe for a moment, then listened to his chest and looked at the monitors. "Let's see how he does for the rest of the day. If he gets through to the morning on his own, we'll try taking the vent out completely. If not, then we'll give him some help and try again tomorrow."

"Ok," Sam said, feeling hopeful.

"Don't get discouraged if we have to put him back on the vent- he might get too tired to keep it up and that happens a lot. If we turn it back on, we'll put it in a mode where it's helping him breathe if he takes too long to do it for himself instead of having it breathe for him completely. It's still a good sign and a step in the right direction, ok?" Michael said. "He's doing good."

That had been the first positive step. They had been able to take G off the ventilator in the morning and put him just on oxygen. He hadn't had any trouble breathing at all, which was a very good sign. The day after he'd come off the vent, the neurologist came in and said hi to Sam.

"How's he doing?" she asked.

"Good," Sam said. "Breathing just fine."

"That's great," she said. She did the usual neuro checks and nodded to herself. "I think we're going to reduce the sedation today. See if he'll wake up for us."

"Really?" Sam asked.

"Really," she confirmed. "It'll take awhile yet- probably most of the day."

"Ok," Sam said.

"I'll have Kathy turn down the meds and I'll come back later today to see how it's going. They'll page me if he does wake up ahead of schedule, so don't worry about it. Just keep doing what you've been doing and it'll be fine," the doctor said, making a note on G's chart.

"Thanks, Dr. Chin," Sam said. She gave him a sloppy salute and left.

Kathy came in a few minutes later and fiddled with the machine that operated the IVs. "Ok," she said. "I've reduced the medicine that's keeping him sedated. He's still on the pain medication, so he shouldn't be hurting, but he might get restless as he wakes up. Hit the call light if he seems like he's in pain or if he wakes up. I don't expect that to happen until this evening, but some people come out of it faster than others."

"Right," Sam said.

"I'll be back to check on you in a little while, Mr. Mitchell," Kathy told G. She smiled at Sam and left the room.

Sam watched most of the day as G went from being nearly totally still to moving around slightly. His head tossed a little on the pillow, but he wasn't grimacing or wincing, so Sam didn't think he was really in pain. His breathing became a little quicker, but not labored. He seemed to be asleep, instead of just drugged, which Sam decided was a good sign. Around 5, though, G tried to bring his hand up to his face. Unfortunately, he tried to move the arm that now had pins and screws in the shoulder and was strapped down in a sling. That seemed to push him over into panic mode.

"Hey, hey," Sam said, jumping up when he realized G was getting way more agitated. "It's ok, G. You're safe," he said, quietly, bending down to talk right into G's ear. "You're safe. It's Sam, I'm right here. I got your back. You're in the hospital, you're really hurt. One of your arms is in a sling because they had to operate on your shoulder. That's why you can't move it. But you're ok, everything is ok." Sam kept repeating the soothing patter as Kathy came into the room.

"What happened?" she asked.

"He tried to move his arm and couldn't," Sam said. "He doesn't like being held down."

"Ah," Kathy said. "Mr. Mitchell, can you hear me?" she asked. "Move your foot if you can hear me."

G didn't move his foot, but he moved his head away from her voice. "Um," Sam said. "He might not know you're talking to him."

"Hmm?" Kathy asked, quizzically.

"He does a lot of really classified work," Sam explained. "He goes by aliases a lot and he may not recognize what name you're using."

Kathy raised an eyebrow. "Ah. I don't suppose you can tell me his real name?"

Sam shook his head. "Can't, sorry. Not that I think you'd do anything with it, but there's people who would and we're not exactly sure why he was shot, so we really need to be on the safe side."

"Ooookay," Kathy said, slowly. She looked like she didn't quite believe Sam, but was willing to humor him. "You've been calling him G, would he respond to that."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Probably."

"You try, then," Kathy said.

"Ok," Sam nodded. "Hey, G, can you squeeze my hand?" he asked, since he was already holding G's free hand. G squeezed it slightly. "That's good, G. That's really good."

"See if he'll open his eyes," Kathy said.

"Can you open your eyes for me? Can you wake up?" Sam asked. "It's ok, G, you're safe here."

G's eyelids fluttered, but his eyes didn't open. Kathy nodded. "That's ok, he might not be quite ready to wake up just yet. We'll let him sleep for awhile longer."

"Ok," Sam said, still rubbing the back of G's hand.

A few hours later, Dr. Chin was back. "Ok, sleepyhead," she said, cheerfully, having been briefed about the issue with G's name. "Time to wake up for us."

G's face squinched up and he turned his head away again.

"Hey, G," Sam said, when Dr. Chin nodded at him. "Come on, man, just for a minute."

G kind of groaned, hoarsely. "His throat is probably still really irritated from the ventilator," Dr. Chin said. "We'll get him some ice chips."

"Does that sound good, G? You thirsty?" Sam asked. G mumbled something that Sam didn't hear. "I didn't hear you. Say it again."

"'lone," G mumbled.

"Sorry, buddy," Sam said, smiling a little. "Can't leave you alone just yet. Come on, open those eyes." Sam held his breath as G's eyes finally blinked open. "Hey there," he said.

G's eyes darted around, looking suddenly panicked.

"You're ok," Sam said, reaching out to gently move G's chin so he was facing Sam. "Hey, G, you're ok. It's safe. I promise." G's eyes zeroed in on Sam. "That's it. Just relax." G blinked and his face smoothed out a little. "Good, that's good," Sam said. He moved a little so he wasn't blocking Dr. Chin. "That's Dr. Chin. She's been taking good care of you. She's got to ask you a couple of questions to make sure your brains aren't scrambled, ok?"

G swallowed, winced, and whispered "'k."

"Hi there," Dr. Chin said. She turned and took a cup from Kathy, who'd just come into the room. "Here, let's get you an ice chip first." She handed the cup to Sam who spooned up a chip and offered it to G. "Is that better?" she asked.

G nodded a little. "Yeah." His voice was still really raspy, but it was more audible.

"Great," Dr. Chin said. "Can you tell me where you are?"

"Hospital?" G asked.

"Where's the hospital?" Dr. Chin asked.

G frowned a little. "LA?" he said, finally.

"Right," Dr. Chin said. "What year's it?"

"2009," G rasped.

"Excellent. Who's your friend here," she asked, pointing at Sam.

"Sam," G replied, his eyes starting to slide shut.

"One more before you fall asleep, ok?" Dr. Chin said, gently shaking his foot. "When's your birthday?"

Sam opened his mouth to say that might not be a useful question when G responded "July 22nd." Dr. Chin looked at Sam- that information must not match what was on his forms. Sam nodded. "Good. That's good. You can go back to sleep."

"Mm," G mumbled, closing his eyes.

Sam looked at Dr. Chin, who was writing in G's chart. "How'd he do?" he asked.

"Really well," Dr. Chin said. "We'll have to ask him some other questions to see about higher cognitive functions- like, making sure he's not having problems reading, for example and testing his short and long term memory- but right now, I'd call him alert and oriented." She glanced down at G, who'd fallen asleep again. "Well, alert is probably not the best word at this exact moment."

Sam smiled a little at the quip. "Yeah, not so much."

"But this was good. He woke up, he could tell us where he was, he could identify you, he knew what year it was. All good signs. Right now, I'm not expecting there to be any real problems. He'll likely have some short term memory loss- he may have lost a day or two around the injury and that's common and nothing to worry about," Dr. Chin said.

"Right," Sam said. He knew that wasn't unusual.

"So, we'll let him sleep for awhile, and see where things stand when he wakes up tomorrow. But, if he keeps improving at this rate, we might be able to move him out of the ICU in a couple of days," she said.

"Wow," Sam said. "That would be really good."

"Yup," she said. "It's still going to be awhile before he's back up on his feet," she warned. "Even with no setbacks, I wouldn't expect him to be released from the hospital for at least a couple of weeks. He's gotta be able to stand up, walk around, eat and have the pain under control with oral medications before they'll let him go."

"Ok," Sam said. "But, does this mean he's out of critical condition?"

"In the sense that he's not in imminent danger of dying, he's been out of critical condition for a couple of days now," Dr. Chin replied. "I would have called it serious condition this morning, since he was still unconscious, but his vital signs have been in good shape since he came off the ventilator."

"Oh," Sam said. "I didn't know."

"I'm sorry, we should have told you. But we don't usually use those terms with the patients and their families. They're mostly just if we need to talk to the media, since we don't give out the same kinds of details that we'd give you," she explained. "He's improving a lot, which is the important part."

"Thanks," Sam said.

"You're welcome," she said. "I will see you tomorrow. Let Kathy know if he wakes up again, but he may not."

"I will," Sam said. He leaned over and whispered to G, "I'll be right back, ok. You keep sleeping." He waved at Kathy and held up his phone as he walked past the desk. She nodded and he left the ICU for the waiting room. He took a deep breath and called Macy.

"Macy," she answered.

"Mace, it's Sam," he said, smiling. "He woke up."

"What?" Macy asked. "He's awake?"

"No, right now, he's asleep again. But he was awake for a couple of minutes, answered all the doc's questions right. They said he might make it out of the ICU in a couple of days if he keeps improving," Sam said, grinning.

"That's the best news I've heard all week," Macy said. "I'll come by in the morning, ok?"

"That would be great," Sam said.

"Want me to bring you anything?" she asked.

"Coffee and a change of clothes?" he asked. There was a gym in the hospital and he'd managed a shower in their locker room, and he'd bought a shirt in the gift store, but a change of clothes would feel really good.

"Done," she said. "See you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Mace. See you," he said.

G woke up again a few hours later. "Hey," Sam said, dragging his chair closer to the bed. "You need another ice chip?" G blinked, then nodded. "Here," he said, snagging the cup from the bedside table. "Better?" he asked.

G nodded. "Happened?" he whispered.

"You were shot. It was a drive by," Sam said. "You remember anything?"

G shook his head weakly. "How long?"

"You've been here for about 5 days," Sam replied. "You're hurt pretty bad."

"Oh," G said. He tried to move his arm again.

"Hey, no, don't try that," Sam said. "Your shoulder is broken, they don't want you moving it around too much yet."

G frowned. "Broken?"

"One of the bullets went through your shoulder," Sam explained. "You'll be in a sling for awhile."

"No," G said.

"Yeah, buddy, sorry," Sam said. "Don't have a choice."

G shook his head. "Need two hands."

"You don't need two hands right this minute," Sam said. "All you need to do is lie there and rest."

"No, go home," G said.

"Not for awhile," Sam said, knowing exactly what G meant. "You're not going anywhere anytime soon."

"No," G said, in as firm of a voice as he could manage.

"G," Sam sighed. "I know this isn't going to be easy and it's definitely not going to be fun. But trust me, you're safe here. No one knows you're here, ok? We used the name on the license in your wallet and Macy burned the alias. I've been here at the hospital almost the entire time, and Kensi was here when I had to leave. The staff knows not to let anyone in to see you if they aren't on the list we gave them. Eric's got eyes all over the place and nothing remotely suspicious has happened. We are not going to let anything happen to you while you're here."

G frowned. "Don't remember."

"I know," Sam said. "You might not."

"Thirsty," he said. Sam gave him another ice chip. "Stay?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Sam said.

G seemed to think about that for a minute. "Ok."

"Ok," Sam agreed.

G's eyes were starting to slide shut again. "Don't fight it," Sam soothed. "Go back to sleep."

"Ok," G said, letting his eyes close. Sam leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as well. This was going to be a long few weeks, but he was going to be here.