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    Ten Degrees of Separation – (Chapter: The (Fe)Male Gaze or Recasting the Primal Scene, Redux; Part 4: Part Four: Adreneline– Bossa Nova Rush)

    "Pulse ox dropping to 82."

    "We need to tube him."

    Blue gaze met green, and Kim shook her head shortly.

    "I’ve got it," Kerry said, the jerk of her ex-lover’s head bringing her back to the reality of the trauma.

    "No. I do," Carter interrupted, moving to the patient’s head. "Step out, Dr. Legaspi."

    "I’m not leaving him." Never missing the rhythm as her eyes flashed darkly at him.

    "Step out, Dr. Legaspi."

    "V-fib…"

    "Charge paddles to two hundred."

    "Step out, Dr. Legaspi. Now."

    "Clear!"

    The thunderous sound of two hundred volts of electricity being delivered to a faintly beating heart slapped the air. An instant’s freeze, then a faint sigh of relief. "Sinus tac…"

    Sometime in the melee Peter Benton had joined the fray, looking only mildly surprised to find a psych doc covered in blood and up to her elbows in the trauma. "This guy’s belly is full of blood," he snapped, reading the ultrasound. "He stable enough to move?" His eyes snapped first to Kim, who nodded, then Kerry, who confirmed. "Then let’s get him upstairs."

    "I’ve got the drug box," Haleh shouted as they wheeled him from Trauma 1 and towards the elevator. "Hold the doors!"

    The falling peace, when a trauma has cleared the ER and the silence was a vacuum of energy and thwarted drive, was shattered in an instant as Carter snapped his gloves off angrily. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" he shouted at Kim.

    The psychiatrist blinked at him rapidly, as if just registering his presence. Blue eyes flickered to green once more as if acknowledgment of a job well-done, then she turned on her heel and walked out of the trauma room.

    Carter, however, was not about to let the subject drop. "You had no business being in that room," he said, following her into the admit area.

    Oblivious to the avid pairs of eyes watching them, Kim turned on him in disbelief. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, her voice deceptively calm. Kerry recognized the inflection with a sinking feeling.

    "You aren’t trained to handle trauma."

    "Trauma no, but simple triage yes, Carter. It may come as a shock to you, but I’m as fully trained an MD as you are."

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