Sebastian and Kettle were nodding.

Trance and Loki were looking thoughtful, as was Torren.

"Okay, well Silas, since you're closest to Dortea, how about you bring that up with her and see what she thinks. She already knows about the threats, but maybe she'll see a flaw in it where we don't," I offered.

Silas nodded. "Sounds like a plan. I'll head out, then. I'll let you know what she has to say in the morning, okay?"

I nodded, and the lot of them dispersed one by one, all offering a handshake before they rumbled off into the night.

I was only left with one question.

Would it work?

Only one way to find out.

Chapter 19.

I would do Christian Grey-ish things to you.

-Text from Rue to Cleo Rue "Guess who's coming in?" Cleo said over the phone the next morning.

I looked over the chart that was in front of me and said, "Hmm?" distractedly.

"The boys," his deep voice rumbled, making the cold knot in my belly warm slightly.

"That's great. When and what time?" I asked.

Good thing I had the whole weekend off.

"This weekend is the bike rally in Jefferson," he continued; however, my mind stayed on the patient's chart who'd signed a DNR because she wanted to die with dignity.

She was a twenty nine year old mother of four young children with stage four breast cancer.

She'd contracted the flu, and her immune system was nearly nonexistent.

She was having trouble breathing, and was refusing even the basic of medical interventions, including oxygen.

It was only a matter of time, unfortunately.

It just broke my heart that she was having to go through this and her family was having to witness it.

"You there, baby?" Cleo rasped.

I closed my eyes and envisioned his arms around me. "Yeah, I'm here. It's been a bad day."

He chuckled lightly. "It's only been less than an hour."

I snorted. "Yeah, I know."

"Hey, Rue. You have a patient in four that's on the call light for the fifth time." Johnathan, one of the two male nurses that worked in the ER during my shift, said.

Johnathan was pretty awesome.

He reminded me of Stone Cold Steve Austin, the wrestler who'd been my idol growing up.

He had a shaved head, big, beefy biceps, and a temper that could rival a psychopath when it called for it.

He never put up with bulls.h.i.t, and he always had our backs when we needed him.

He was ex-military, and had zero tolerance when it came to patients badmouthing his 'girls.'

"Cleo," I said standing up and putting the chart I was looking at back where it went. "I've got to go. I'll talk to you when you pick me up, okay?"

Cleo made a understanding sound and said, "Got it. Love you."

I blinked rapidly as the sound of the dial tone rang in my ear. He didn't say it that often. Only every now and then, and only when I least expected it.

So when I did get graced with hearing those words, I cherished them.

Walking away from the nurse's station with a pep in my step, I came into the room of one Mr. Bowen Bloodsworth, and had to hold back the grimace that threatened to overtake my face.

The guy looked downright gross.

It was more than obvious that he hadn't had a bath in a while, and to add insult to injury, he gave me the creeps.

"How can I help you, Mr. Bloodsworth?" I asked him as I barely breached the inside of the door.

I wasn't comfortable going that close to him.

Not only did he smell horrible, but he was obviously juicin' on some drug of choice, and I didn't want to be close to him when he heard what I had to tell him next.

"I'm hurtin' doc," he groaned.

I rolled my eyes. I'd told him I wasn't a doctor nearly ten times now.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Bloodsworth. What's your pain on a scale of 1-10?" I asked.

Earlier he'd said it was a seventy two. I'd bet now was going to be even worse.

"At least an eighty," he groaned pitifully.

My left eye started to tick. "Did the medicine you were given not touch the pain at all?" I asked tiredly.

He shook his head. "No, doc. Not at all. I told you those drugs wouldn't work on me. Only Dilaudid and Morphine work. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, hydrocodone'll work, too."

I suppressed the urge to snort. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that. However, we can no longer prescribe you any narcotics. You'll have to see your regular doctor to obtain your prescription. However, with that being said, I saw that you just had the last prescription filled only six days ago, so he's probably not going to give you another one for another twenty four days."

He lifted his lip in a snarl. "Listen, b.i.t.c.h. I need that now. The doc's office isn't open until Monday. And besides, I ain't got no money to pay for that again."

I squeezed my hands into fists to keep myself from throwing my hands up in the air and yelling, 'dumba.s.s' out loud. What did he think? That when he came here it was free?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bloodsworth," I said again. "Your doctor is in the middle of signing your discharge paperwork, and you'll be free to go soon."

"I want to see my doctor now," he snapped.

I turned without another word and found Doctor Norwood with dread.

Normally telling a patient that he wouldn't be getting any narcotics would've been the doctor's role. However, Dr. Norwood still lived to give me s.h.i.t and found joy in making my day as bad as he could possibly make it.

I found him in his usual spot next to the corner, and stepped up to the counter so I was facing him. "Dr. Norwood, Mr. Bloodsworth would like to speak with you."

"Here, tell him I have him ready. Thanks," he said as he shoved a stack of paperwork in my direction.

I ignored the paper work. "He'd like to see you," I repeated.

He looked up at me and glared. "Did you hear what I said?"

I suppressed the urge to growl at him. Where was Cleo when I needed him?

"I realize that, Dr. Norwood, but he'd like to speak with you," I said tightly.

He stood with barely contained impatience and made his way into Mr. Bloodsworth's room.

"Can I help you?" He asked him coolly.

Bowen Bloodsworth looked even worse in the three minutes I'd been gone.

"Yes, you can tell this other doctor that I'm allowed to have some drugs. My toe hurts somethin' fierce," he hissed.

Dr. Norwood grimaced. "You won't be getting any narcotics. Here's your discharge paperwork. Follow up with your primary care provider come Monday," he hissed back.

Very helpful, Dr. Norwood.

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

Then proceeded to s.h.i.t his pants.

"Did you seriously just do that?" Dr. Norwood asked in flabbergasted surprise.

Bloodsworth shrugged. "Yes."

"Call security," Dr. Norwood said.

I did. Gratefully.

A very upset Bowen Bloodsworth was escorted out moments later, and I, for once, was happy with Dr. Norwood.

Then he had to go and ruin it.

"It's illegal to impersonate a doctor," Dr. Norwood said snidely.

I ignored him and walked away. If I said something to him, I'd probably get written up, and n.o.body wanted that.

"d.i.c.k," I said under my breath.

Then proceeded to have a very, very s.h.i.tty day.

It consisted of puke, s.h.i.t, temper tantrums from both fellow nurses and patients, and finally, I tripped and fell. With a specimen cup of pee in my hand.

Yay, me.

Then, for the icing on the cake, I now had to testify on the stand tomorrow morning, and I had a no good, very bad, c.r.a.ptastic day.

Hooray.

Rue "Are you drunk?" Cleo asked with a smile in his voice.

I ignored him and filled my coffee cup back up with the boxed wine I'd begged Silas to stop and get on the way home from work.

I was a little mad at Cleo, because I felt that maybe he had a hand in getting me to testify tomorrow.

Usually, it wouldn't bother me in the least to testify on a rape case.

Normally, though, I didn't have my life threatened on a daily basis with bodily harm if I did testify.

I knew his intentions were good.

I knew he'd protect me. But still. I was a tad bit miffed.

Taking a sip of my wine, I stared at the television and tried (and note I said try) to ignore the beautiful man.