Chapter Text
I’ve been an EMT for several years and I’m currently in my final year of nursing school, so this fic should be pretty medically accurate. I’ve included a medical jargon key in case you want to reference it. There’s nothing too crazy complicated here, especially if you’re a frequent medical drama viewer. The concept of end-tidal is probably the only thing that might be unfamiliar.
Enjoy the read! Next chapter is in progress :)
Medical guide
BVM: An acronym for Bag Valve Mask. You know what I’m talking about—it’s the face mask with a big squeeze-y bulb attached to it. We use it to blow oxygen into the lungs when a patient isn’t breathing on their own.
- Note: when the patient breathes on their own while the mask is sealed, the bulb pulls in on its own. So when a patient takes a breath, you can actually see the bag depress.
Narcan: antidote specifically to opioid overdose. Will NOT reverse a GHB or benzo overdose.
Benzo: Short for benzodiazepine. They are a class of drugs used for sedation. Can be used as a date rape drug.
GHB: a party drug that can be used as a date rape drug. It’s actually naturally occurring in very small amounts in the human body.
End-tidal: measures the concentration of CO2 present at the end of a breath. When someone is not breathing, they are not exhaling CO2. The high level of CO2 in our blood typically tells our brain it’s time to breathe deeper and faster, but a sedative (like benzos and GHB) lowers that drive. The CO2 builds up in the blood. V bad.
Zofran: nausea medication. Prevents vomiting
Rohypnol: full name of the date rape drug known as “roofies.” It is a benzodiazepine.
Ch 1
Dennis stood at the desk, finishing up his last chart of the day. Dana and Lena were chatting to his left and Robby was doing handoff with Shen somewhere behind him.
Abbot approached the station in plain clothes, jacket still on.
“Thought you were off tonight,” Shen said.
“I am,” Abbot replied. “I’m just here to pick up my hot date.” He nodded to Robby.
“Ah, I see,” Shen nodded.
“We’re going to Harvey’s,” Robby supplied, passing the tablet over.
“That dump on fifth?” Dana chimed in.
“Shots fired,” Shen muttered.
“Walking distance and a perfectly respectable joint to grab a beer,” Abbot shot back then turned to Robby. “You ready?”
“I’ve been ready since I stepped foot in here this morning,” Robby replied.
“Not a moment too soon then,” Abbot smiled, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he arrived next to him.
They waved a goodbye and headed toward the exit, passing by Trinity and Javadi at the lockers.
“Hey,” Robby called as he walked by. “Good work today. See you Monday.”
“See you Monday,” Trinity said.
“See you,” Javadi waved.
Robby and Abbot disappeared around the corner, leaving Trinity and Javadi behind.
It didn’t escape Trinity’s notice that Javadi had changed into a skirt with a tight fitting top.
“Someone’s all dressed up,” Trinity teased. “Where are you headed?”
Javadi shook her head, punching in the code to her locker.
“Just meeting up with some people from undergrad,” she replied.
“There a boy from undergrad?” Trinity asked, eyeing the make up Javadi had applied. “Or girl! Equal opportunity and all.”
“Ugh no,” Javadi shuddered. “Honestly they were all kind of jerks. But the meet up’s only a couple blocks away at Harvey’s and I’m 21 now so…I figured I would go.”
“They grow up so fast,” Trinity pressed a hand over her chest.
“Shut up,” Javadi murmured with a snort.
“I’m going to grab Huckleberry,” she said as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “Text me if you need a place to crash, Crash.”
She waved goodbye.
Javadi hadn’t meant to wander off.
One minute she was half-listening to a story she’d already heard three times, nodding along with exaggerated patience, the next she was alone at the edge of the bar—watching her college friends dissolve into smaller clusters. Bathroom runs. Shots she’d already declined. Someone’s ex showing up uninvited.
She had no real interest in this little college reunion. She was seventeen when she graduated and none of her twenty two year old classmates ever treated her as a friend.
But her mother hated bars and hated Victoria going to one even more.
So Victoria had to go, purely on principle.
She checked her phone.
Nothing.
No missed calls. No angry texts. No where are you from her mom. She was at a conference in Columbus so she probably hadn’t had time to check Javadi’s location.
It was a bit of a disappointment to not be a disappointment.
She took another sip of her drink and frowned as a faint pull of dizziness rolled through her. Then something heavier followed. Sudden. Crushing. Like someone had dropped a weighted blanket straight over her.
She wasn’t drunk after three quarters of a cocktail, right? That’s definitely not how it worked.
Yet the room tipped when she shifted her weight.
Her stomach rolled, sharp and urgent.
The lights on the ceiling smeared across her vision as she turned and made a break for the bathroom.
She missed the door handle the first time she reached out, gripping air. She tried again and successfully pushed through the door.
The fluorescent lights inside were too bright—too loud somehow. She made it to the counter on instinct alone, breathing hard, palms pressed flat against the laminate as her vision tunneled.
She wasn’t drunk.
Her brain caught up a beat too late: You must have looked away from your drink.
When?
She tried to remember. Tried to rewind the last twenty minutes. The memory slipped through her fingers.
Her phone. She needed her phone.
She tilted her head toward her pocket and the floor tilted with her. She tightened her grip on the counter, but gravity won. Hard.
Her shoulder clipped the sink. Her head hit porcelain.
She was on the floor now, staring at ceiling tiles she didn’t recognize. Cold linoleum stuck to her palms, tacky with beer and bleach.
Time fractured between blinks—thin slices of black cutting in and out. A door opened. Closed. Music thudded somewhere far away.
She needed to call someone.
Not her mom.
Anyone but her mom.
Her hand dragged to her pocket, fingers clumsy and weak. Her phone felt too heavy as she fumbled it unlocked, the screen swimming.
She scrolled once. Squinted.
Trinity.
She hit call.
It rang twice.
“Hey, crash,” Trinity said brightly. “You bored of those pricks already?”
Javadi tried to answer.
What came out was a breath she didn’t recognize as her own.
“…Trin.”
The shift was immediate.
“Javadi?” Trinity said. “Hey—what happened?”
Something about hearing her name made it worse. Her eyes filled.
“I—something’s wrong,” Javadi said, the words thick and wrong in her mouth. “I only had one drink.”
“Fuck. Okay. Okay, listen—” Trinity said.
Her voice went distant. “It’s Javadi. I think someone spiked her drink.”
The background noise of the call changed as Trinity put her on speakerphone, grainy and tinny.
“Are you alone?” Trinity asked
“Yeah, I—I can’t get up,” Javadi said, or maybe thought.
“It’s okay. We’re coming to get you. Where are you?”
“Harvey’s,” she said. “Bathroom.”
Another voice cut in—Whitaker.
“That’s where Abbot and Robby were headed.”
“Call them,” Trinity said immediately. “They’ll get to her faster.”
Panic flared, hot and mortifying.
“No—no, don’t,” Javadi protested, the word slurring. “Don’t tell them.”
She tried to sit up.
She only managed to pick up her head a couple inches before her neck gave out. The tender spot on the back of her hit the tile. She cried out.
“Are you hurt?” Trinity rushed out.
“Hurts,” she repeated back, clinging to the word that made sense.
It felt like her limbs had filled with wet sand—heavy, unresponsive.
Trinity was saying something, maybe swearing, but the sound blurred and faded.
The noise outside warped and bent. A wave of nausea surged, violent and unstoppable.
One blink stretched too long.
And lasted.
The phone buzzing in Robby’s pocket made him frown.
He hadn’t even finished his first beer.
He glanced down at the screen as he stepped away from the bar.
WHITAKER.
That alone was strange.
“Give me a second,” he said to Abbot, moving toward the hallway where the music thinned out.
He answered. “Whitaker?”
“Are you at Harvey’s?” Whitaker asked.
Robby stopped. “Yeah. Why?”
“Javadi’s there. Something’s wrong.”
Robby was already turning, scanning the room.
“What kind of wrong?”
“She called Trinity. Said she only had one drink but she can’t get up.”
Cold, sharp focus snapped into place.
“She's hurt, but she couldn’t tell us where,” Whitaker added.
“Where is she?” Robby asked, already moving.
“A bathroom, I think.”
He heard Trinity in the background.
“Javadi, which bathroom are you in? Victoria?”
Robby broke into a jog.
He reached Abbot and didn’t slow. Abbot took one look at his face and matched his pace.
“It’s Javadi,” Robby said shortly, phone still to his ear. “She’s here somewhere. Spiked drink.”
“She’s not responding now,” Whitaker said, his voice starting to shake.
“Call 911,” Robby replied.
The hallway felt too long. Too crowded. Someone laughed as they passed.
A row of bathroom doors lined the wall.
Robby and Abbot split.
Robby threw open a door to an empty room. He tried the next handle—locked. An unfamiliar voice called from inside, replying that it was occupied.
Robby shoved open the third.
“Jack!”
Javadi was on the floor, flat on her back, eyes half-open and unfocused. A thin line of vomit tracked from the corner of her mouth. Her phone lay beside her on the tile, Trinity’s voice still faintly spilling from the speaker.
“Javadi?” Robby was on his knees instantly.
He grabbed her shoulder and hip, pulling her onto her side in one smooth motion.
“Alright,” he murmured, already working, adjusting her jaw to let her mouth clear. “I’ve got you.”
His fingers moved to her carotid. “Victoria, can you hear me?”
Her pulse was slow.
Too slow.
“Jesus—” Jack said, catching himself by the doorframe. “She breathing?”
Robby watched her chest rise.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding as Jack dropped beside him. “She was on her back—might’ve aspirated.”
Jack already had his phone out, flashlight on, lifting each eyelid.
“Pupils four millimeters,” he said. “Sluggish.”
“Pulse is slow,” Robby replied.
“Victoria,” he said again, rubbing a knuckle firmly into her sternum.
Her eyes fluttered open with a weak, wet cough. A thin, distressed sound escaped as she tensed, trying to pull away.
“Hey—hey,” Robby said quickly, lowering himself so he wasn’t looming. He angled his face into her line of sight, placing a hand between her shoulder blades. “Javadi. Look at me. It's Robby.”
Her eyes slid over him, unfocused—then slowed.
“Ro…” she slurred.
“Yep,” he said immediately. “It’s me. Me and Abbot. You’re okay.”
“We’ve got you, sweetheart,” Abbot added gently, brushing back her hair, settling a steady palm on top of her head like he’d done it a thousand times. “Stay with us, alright?”
She gave the smallest nod.
“Did you hit your head?” Robby asked, voice steady.
She made a sound that wasn’t quite an answer.
“Okay,” he said softly. “I’m going to check you. Tell me if anything hurts.”
His hands moved carefully, practiced.
She shifted on the floor when his fingers pressed the back of her head, whining out a small cry.
“Okay, easy,” Robby said immediately, pulling back. His fingers came back red. “Let me see.”
He shuffled behind her, leaning closer as he parted her hair. At the back of her head, there was a sizable knot of swelling with a split in her skin. A small amount of blood glistened in the roots of her hair.
His fingers brushed too close.
Another small whine caught in her throat.
“I know, I know,” he replied softly, fully withdrawing this time, “I’m sorry.”
“Hematoma and a small lac,” he told Jack, shifting onto his knees. “No cervical tenderness. I’ve got C-spine.”
He slid his hands to either side of her head, anchoring her.
“I’ve got your neck,” he told Javadi quietly. “Don’t try to move.”
“Are you hurting anywhere else?” Abbot asked.
Robby felt the minute shake of her head against his hands.
“Okay,” Jack said before looking at Robby. “I’m going to grab EMS. You got her?”
Robby adjusted, bracing his leg against her back to keep her on her side.
“Yep, Go.”
The door opened. Noise rushed in. Then vanished again.
Silence settled.
Javadi’s eyes darted, unfocused. Tile. Pipes. White wall.
Alone.
Javadi’s breathing hitched almost immediately.
“Hey,” Robby said instantly. “Javadi.”
Her gaze flicked toward his voice but only found more white tile.
“Whe…”
“I’m here,” he said. “I’m right behind you. Jack went to get help. It’s just us for a minute.”
As soon as the silence filled back in, her eyes started searching again.
“R—?” she whispered.
“I’m here,” he said immediately. “You want me to keep talking?”
She nodded. Barely.
“Alright,” he said. “I can do that.”
He lowered his voice, slowed it, made it steady.
“You’re in the bathroom at Harvey’s,” he told her. “It’s Friday night. You aren’t feeling good, so we’re getting you help.”
Her breathing followed his cadence—still shallow, but a little more even.
“We had a decent shift today,” he continued. “Two MVAs. We reduced that open fracture in North Twelve.”
A faint sound slipped out of her, something like agreement.
“And you caught that STEMI in triage,” he went on. “That was good medicine—abdominal presentation isn’t common. Bet Oglevie would’ve missed it.”
The faintest twitch at her cheek. He leaned in closer
“You know that residency spot is yours, kiddo,” he said quietly. “Always has been.”
She just barely pressed her cheek into his hand, easy to miss but still loud and clear.
“Langdon tried to teach that M3 how to do a chest tube. Thought the kid was never going to commit. Still went better than Santos’s first one,” he added lightly.
“Nothing’s ever going to beat dropping a scalpel into Garcia’s foot,” he said. “But—clearly—she was forgiven.”
Another twitch. Almost a smile.
“The dad in central tried to yell at a student nurse in front of Dana,” he went on. “Didn’t end well for him.”
A small, breathy sound escaped her, more air than voice.
“You doing okay?” Robby asked.
She shut her eyes slowly, deliberately.
“I know you’re tired,” he said gently. “But I need you to stay awake for me.”
Her breathing changed.
Slower.
Weaker.
“Javadi?”
Her eyelids fluttered.
“Open your eyes.”
Her jaw slackened beneath his palms.
“Shit—Javadi, take a breath for me.”
Robby leaned closer, eyes locked on the rise and fall of her chest.
Nothing.
He checked her pulse again—still there, still steady, but sluggish.
Her chest rose once.
He counted silently.
Ten.
Nothing.
“Fuck.”
The decision was immediate.
“Okay, Javadi,” he said firmly, releasing her head and carefully rolling her onto her back, “I’m going to help you breathe, kiddo.”
His hands went straight to her jaw, lifting, tilting her chin.
He leaned forward and breathed for her.
One breath every five seconds.
Controlled. Precise.
She was so small—he barely needed a quarter of his breath for her chest to fully rise.
Her body twitched faintly, like it was trying to remember how to help.
She pulled a shallow breath on her own, then another—late, incomplete.
“There you go,” he murmured. “That’s it.”
Then nothing.
Then back to breathing for her until she tried again.
He kept the stilted rhythm until footsteps thundered in the hallway.
The bathroom door flew open. Jack swore.
Robby didn’t look up.
“BVM. Now.”
The mask was in his hands a moment later. As he sealed it over Javadi’s face, Jack dropped back beside him, hands steadying her head.
“Suspected drug overdose,” Robby reported, fast and clear. “Vomiting with possible aspiration. Pulse is slow but strong. Head trauma. I had to release C-spine to ventilate.”
“Got it,” one of the medics said. “She breathing at all on her own?”
“Intermittently,” Robby replied. “Not enough.”
“Narcan?” another asked.
“I don’t think it’s opioids, but we can try.”
“Push one,” Abbot said, nodding toward the dose.
Robby lifted the mask just enough for the spray.
Nothing.
“No,” Robby said, shaking his head. “This looks like GHB or a benzo.”
“Vitals?” the medic asked.
“Pulse 52,” came the reply. “Sinus. BP 94 over 56. Sats 98 with the BVM.”
“Yeah,” Jack said quietly. “Don’t let that fool you. End-tidal’s 60. Slow waveform.”
“Respiratory drive’s way down,” Robby grimaced. “She’s still pulling, though—about six a minute.”
The bag dipped slightly on its own.
“Yep,” he told her. “Just like that, Javadi.”
“Alright,” the medic said. “Let’s collar her.”
Jack adjusted his fingers just enough for the collar to be secured around her neck.
They slid a board beneath her with practiced coordination, knees bumping tile and porcelain in the tight space.
“Okay—on three,” Jack said. “One. Two. Three.”
Javadi’s body moved as a single unit. Robby never broke the seal on the mask.
It could have been a blink or an entire year before the ambulance doors burst open into harsh white light.
Shen was already standing by.
His gaze flicked from Robby to Abbot.
That earned a pause.
“What do you—” His eyes dropped to the stretcher. To Javadi—limp, a BVM sealed over her face.
“What the hell happened?”
“21 year old female,” the medic called as they rolled her in. “Likely sedative overdose. GCS nine. Respiratory rate six without assistance.”
Robby stayed at the head of the stretcher as they moved, one hand steady on the bag, eyes locked on chest rise, timing each breath.
“Posterior scalp hematoma,” the medic continued. “Fall from standing height. Vomiting. No response to Narcan.”
“Someone spiked her fucking drink,” Robby muttered to Shen, the words tight with venom.
They cleared the threshold into the trauma bay.
The transfer from stretcher to bed was smooth, practiced, as the medic rattled off vitals.
Shen unlaced the stethoscope from his neck and handed it to Abbot as he checked her pupils.
“Left lung’s clear,” Abbot said after a moment. “Some faint crackles at the right base.”
“Aspiration?” Shen asked.
“She was supine and vomiting when we got to her,” Robby replied. “We’ll keep an eye on it. Page respiratory. I want their eyes on this in case she decompensates.”
“Think we should hold the head CT?” Shen said.
“Low-mechanism fall, pupils are equal and responsive,” Robby replied. “I want her breathing first.”
Javadi stirred on the bed.
It was subtle enough to miss—a tightening at the corners of her eyes, a faint crease between her brows.
Robby caught it immediately.
Her eyelids fluttered open.
Not focused. Not tracking. Just open.
“Javadi,” he said, steady and low. “Can you hear me?”
Her gaze drifted past him, unfixed, skimming the lights overhead before sliding away again.
She made a sound behind the mask and her chest hitched.
Then it rose again on its own. Shallow. Delayed.
Robby leaned closer.
“Good job, Victoria,” he said quietly. “That one’s all you.”
The capnography waveform dipped as her eyes slid shut again.
Robby watched the line climb, counted silently, then resumed his rhythm.
“She’s been in and out,” Abbot said. “Respiratory drive keeps dropping.”
“Classic GHB,” Shen said.
“Could be,” Abbot agreed.
“Fucking animals,” Robby muttered, eyes never leaving her.
“I’d say we’re about an hour or two post ingestion,” Abbot added.
Robby nodded once. “Peak effect.”
“Alright,” Shen said, already turning to the team. “Support her respirations. Fluids. Labs. Tox screen. Four of Zofran IV.”
He looked back at Robby.
“And someone call her mother.”
The team moved around him, drawing blood and attaching monitors.
The doors swung open.
“Holy shit.”
Trinity and Dennis rushed in, pulling on gloves.
“Rohypnol?” Dennis asked.
“GHB, more likely,” Shen replied.
“You did the right thing,” Robby said, “calling when you did,”
“No shit,” Trinity breathed, scanning over Javadi.
“So…now we just keep going until it wears off?” Dennis said.
“Yep,” Shen nodded.
Trinity stepped up beside Robby, reaching out a hand.
Robby traded his place on the stool with her and let her take the bag.
“You’ll feel her pull,” he instructed. “Let her finish on her own, then fill in the gaps yourself.”
“Got it.”
The bag dipped in Trinity’s palm.
“There it is,” Robby said. “Give her a second.”
Javadi’s eyes opened.
“Hey crash,” Trinity said gently. “We’re right here.”
Javadi blinked at her, her right hand twitching against the sheet. Her fingers curled, then fell slack again.
Javadi’s eyes slid shut.
“That’ll be the pattern, in and out,” Robby explained. “Then the switch will flip and she’ll come back all at once. Usually pretty fast, so be ready.”
Trinity nodded and watched her, counting, before giving another breath.
“Shit,” she said quietly, her voice breaking just a little.
The men looked at her.
“It’s just, you barely even need to squeeze—she’s so tiny you could use a pedes bag on her,” she said quietly. She shook her head before wiping her eyes on each shoulder. “Fuck, we should have gone with her, Whit.”
“She’s going to be okay because of you,” Robby replied. “You saved her life, answering that call.”
“I didn’t do shit but call you two,” she said.
“And where would she be if you hadn’t?”
“Can’t blame yourself for this one,” Abbot added. “No way you could have known.”
Trinity just nodded, trying to make her sniffle subtle. She cleared her throat.
“We’re probably, what? An hour post ingestion now?”
“So it will be a couple of hours until she wakes up,” Whitaker supplied.
“At least,” Shen said. “Like you said, she’s a hundred pounds soaking wet.”
“It’s going to be a long night.”
Squeeze.
Chest rise.
Chest fall.
Repeat.