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veryrealimagination · 2 years ago

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“You better pray with that soul; I don’t need you to help me to the grave, soldier.”

Day No: 5, 8, 15, 25

Prompts: Debris, Pinned Down, Makeshift Bandages, Suppressed suffering, Buried Alive (I hear those that know groaning), Overcrowded ER

Fandom: Murdoch Mysteries

Medium: fic

Trigger Warnings: panic, description of wounds and injuries, aftermath of a terrorist attack,

AN: bouncy POVs, half formatted, missing as well, this ended up almost, if not over 10,000 words. I'm going back later to fluff it out, add some stuff, fix a lot. Here's the first version, to complete Whumptober.

SFW

Murdoch groaned as his consciousness started coming back to him. In the midst of having to field people out of the blast zone, George and Henry had gone farther in the site to get to the two people that were likely on top of the bomb that had been detonated. Pendrick had been the target, but Llewellyn was his current assistant. To Julia’s horror. If they had found the device, they might have had enough time to get out. He knew that Pendrick would likely try to disable it or figure out a way to reduce the explosion if he found the bomb. His assistant would be more than willing to help.

Forcing himself to not think about the possibility of death of two close people, he struggled to get up and check around. Julia had been thrown a few feet away, and was unconscious. He moved, setting off a pain in his leg and chest. Breathing for a minute, he carefully tried to move again. The leg, he determined, wasn’t broken, just bruised heavily. His chest had the same issue as well. Slowing down his pace, he managed to get himself up and over to her before needing to collapse again. “Julia,” he mumbled, before shaking his head and getting enough air. “Julia.”

Checking her pulse, it seemed a little slow. There were no major injuries that he saw. It was only scrapes that were bleeding. “Julia, you need to wake up.” He, as gently as he could, shook her shoulder.

He gained a groan, but not an awakening. “Julia,” he tried. There was something that he knew would snap her awake, but he wasn’t willing to step into that just yet. Even though it would work, and was completely correct.

As he thought about using the phrase, he heard something already going on through the rubble that was blocking the hallway. Confused, as they hadn’t the time to call for backup of any type, he watched plaster and wood be quickly and carefully moved.

A rescue worker went ahead first, and saw Murdoch hovering over his wife. “Two here, sir. One awake, one not,” he reported, approaching carefully. “Detective Murdoch?”

“Yes, my wife, Doctor Ogden, is still unconscious from the blast.” He watched as the rescue worker immediately came over to evaluate the situation himself. Two more people managed to get through the rubble. Both wearing suits, and somehow, Murdoch knew both of them. “Terrence Meyers.”

“Murdoch,” the secret agent, yet again in this timeline, said.

The other man nodded, “William.”

It took quite a bit to bite off a nasty retort. “Father.”

Meyers took a quick glance at that, but didn’t stare. A better response than a few he had. Higgins was the worse. No, he will not indulge what happened after that. “So, you used the fire alarm to try and get the civilians out.”

He confirmed. “Many didn’t believe us. A secretary called a code blue and that set off evacuations better than the fire alarm.”

“Your people?”

He sighed. “Likely trapped. Crabtree and Higgins managed to farther in. Pendrick and his assistant-”

“Barely had enough time to force the bomb into a containment chamber,” Harry said, startling Murdoch, “It barely worked, likely took about sixty percent of the blast but still did this damage. They’re still down there. Techs managed to get up to the explosion from security footage.”

That, that was a better outcome than thinking that Pendrick and Llewellyn hadn’t known and been at the center of an absolutely deadly blast. Still not the greatest, as that likely meant they had severe injuries.

“Ma’am, ma’am, perhaps you shouldn’t-” the rescue worker said.

“Eight years of medical school, ten years plus of practice, and I have a child to get to,” Julia Ogden said, forcing herself up, “I’m not in the mood to hear I shouldn’t be doing anything.”

“Julia,” Murdoch said, kneeling down next to his wife.

“William,” she sighed, closing her eyes to right her head. There was a headache bashing against her skull and she needed to get it calmed down. “When did you managed to call for rescue and backup?”

“I didn’t.” He shifted for her to see the people that had joined.

Opening her eyes, the frown that tried to form was replaced. “Mr. Meyers, Harry,” she grinned, not at all happy.

“Doctor Ogden,” Meyers greeted, “How safe are you to keep going?”

Julia had been slowly checking herself. Nothing was broken. The headache may be connected to a grade a concussion. At the least, she should go outside for an hour and do nothing to keep the thing progressing and causing more harm.

Nothing, she believed, was fatal.

“Give me a painkiller.” The rescue worker frowned, but popped out a small blister pack of something easy to swallow. She broke it open and downed it quickly. “William, George and Henry, they got further, didn’t they?”

Murdoch told her, “They were, and likely caught up nearer to the blast.”

The worker stood back up and went to the two agents. “The other guys will be here in three minutes. It will take us about ten to set up and get equipment going to safely get out survivors,” he informed. The man then turned to Murdoch. “Code blue, bomb?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a probable idea of what type of explosive, so we know what to look for and what to anticipate?” Murdoch frowned, because they hadn’t managed to get that information out of their suspect. Instead, he looked around at the damage that managed to get far up enough in the building.

Meyers coughed to get their attention. “Intel stated that the unit was a pressure cooker, but they don’t know exactly what was inside,” he said, “A couple of the techs suggested high, with a leaning toward pure RDX or Semtex.”

The worker nodded and went out to warn the crew, but the information froze the detective and the doctor. Containment only went so far with Semtex. Ogden forced herself to stand and almost collapsed again before Murdoch caught her. “Perhaps you should be checked out before going ahead,” he muttered.

Her hands clenched where they had grabbed his arms for steadying, to the point of being painful and bruise-worthy. “William,” she hissed.

“I know. I don’t want you succumbing to a brain bleed,” he said, “Get yourself checked out while they work on the rubble.”

“Both of you should be checked,” Harry interrupted, having moved closer to them. The two looked over with little success of hiding how they didn’t want to be interrupted. “EMTs are set up. They’re looking over everyone that came out, and they’ll be ready to get to the others when workers get to them.”

“I am not-”

“Doctor Ogden,” Meyers interrupted, “When we start getting to your team members and your son, we will get you back in.”

The rescue worker that had given Julia the pain pill was relieved when he didn’t have to force the couple out of the door. The sun blinded them a bit, but an EMT that wasn’t occupied by anyone immediately came over and started asking questions.

Henry groaned, pain radiating through his skull and body.

He and George managed to get two levels above the laboratory and the workplace of Pendrick. They had been rushing to get down to the man and his assistant. Most of the people started evacuating after they called something called a code blue over the intercom. Asking a couple of people about James Pendrick gave them the dire news that the man didn’t have the system down in his private area.

They just had to hope that his assistant had warned him and tried to get him out.

They had just managed to leave the stairwell when the blast exploded through the floor and walls. Henry was knocked off his feet by the floor buckling and a wall crashing down. George had the same fall on him with the addition of a metal door and frame. At least, that’s what he saw before blacking out.

From behind his eyelids, he saw flashing lights but no movement. That wasn’t good. The first attempt to fully wake and something sparked behind his eyes. *Concussion. Definitely. Remember when I got one as a Constable? He gave himself a couple of minutes, twisting his head to try and find a dark spot. Once he couldn’t see flashes, he opened his eyes.

The spot was dark, enough that he couldn’t see anything, period. Slowly moving to regain light, the flashing he saw belonged to a broken ceiling light that was swinging from its wiring.

“Crabtree,” he called out, immediately coughing after as dust and everything else in the hallway got into his open mouth. “Crabtree. George!” Several moans rang out, but nothing to indicate that he was heard.

Moving, he felt slabs of plaster, drywall, and ceiling tile slide off of him. His attempt to get on his feet ended in failure. Pain lanced throughout his left ankle, and he crashed back on the debris, howling.

“Henry, shut up,” a voice complained slightly up ahead.

*At least he’s alive.* “George, where are you?” he asked, breathless but needing to find his partner.

“’ver here,” he tried, voice sputtering out, “I don’t think I’ve ever been in this much pain.”

His single laugh was horrible. “Before or now?”

“Now. Although, that time with the twins almost is outranked by this.”

Henry wanted to get to George, check on him, and make sure it wasn’t anything like the injuries he got the last bomb they were in. Although, that was considered nothing today. Not trying to stand up again, he shuffled as much as he could to where he heard the voice. “George, say something else.”

“Why?”

“So I can find you.” The light had stopped swinging so violently, but it was half-lit and didn’t provide much help in finding his fallen partner.

“Well, I don’t know how much help that will be. I’m currently stuck underneath parts of a wall and the metal door that someone slammed shut before the explosion.”

“I can still…” He trailed off when he found the door. It was bent horrifically but not out of the frame. George had part of his head uncovered by it. He was unable to move it to look at Henry. “Found you.”

“Oh, lovely,” he groaned, “Now we don’t have to yell.” He made sure he was in front of where his eye line should be before stopping. The man’s eyes were closed, but once he heard something drop in front of him, he forced them open. Then closed them as the little bit of light hurt. Then, he slowly opened them. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get this thing off of me.”

“Uhh, that’s not gonna happen soon. Not from me.”

He glared at him. “Why?”

“I don’t have the strength for that when I’m healthy, and right now, I’m a leg down.” Henry finally took a look at his leg and saw that the ankle was swelling and red. A quick prod told him something was moving inside of it that shouldn’t be.

“Broken.” George frowned and closed his eyes to think. “Right. That’s gonna be a problem.”

“Well, a predictable one. Get blown up, have something break.”

George groaned again in displeasure. “Higgins.” That brought a small smile to Henry’s face. Almost exactly like the last time. George, however, did not look at his cohort in horrible puns and instead tried to move to see his own injuries. “Two problems. You can’t move well. I might have a serious situation.”

“What?”

“Arm is broken. Possibly with a bone poking out.”

Henry paled, and not from pain. Doctor Ogden got to tell them a few stories about patients from her times in the ER and helping around Toronto. A little girl had gotten a broken leg from sledding, and her femur had broken the skin. They had to use harsh antibiotics to deal with something infecting her through the bone marrow. It almost killed her before she started making a very slow recovery.

“How sure are you on that?”

He sighed, “Not very. If you were able to shift this off, I would be able to see it better.”

That didn’t make him feel good. He wished he was as smart as the others. There was likely something that Murdoch or Pendrick could have done to get themselves out before helping the people moaning among the rubble. He thought about brute forcing it, making himself shift over to the other side and leveraging it off of George. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t Jackson and that even though he was joining Ruthie in exercising and lifting at the gym, it wasn’t like he was benching two hundred pounds. He just hit a hundred.

“We’ll just have to wait like civilians,” Henry joked, covering his emotions up.

“Oh God, that’s a horrible thought,” George whispered, trying to join in. They attempted to laugh, even before the trapped man groaned in pain. He had to try and distract himself. “Bet on when Murdoch shows up?”

Henry nodded, eager to get off the fearful news, “What’s the wager?”

It was pitch black, and wherever he was trapped was small. Like a casket.

Llewellyn felt his heart race up. Too much, it was too much. He hated that the dark made him anxious, a coward in this current life that he had. It was pathetic, and he kept feeling when life threw him into dark places. Physically, at least. Emotionally, he was quite comfortable with them, even if he wasn’t meant to be. A known quantity was better than an unknown that could be good and then may not be.

When he tried to move, however, his panic was offset by pain. A short yelp followed by gritting his teeth, he had to stop trying to escape and find out what was happening without too much movement. One, his legs had the barest of movement. One was trapped, and the other was in pain. He would use his arms to check how bad it was. Except, two, one was trapped as well and definitely broken. The other he wasn’t sure of, just felt numb. That, that was a huge point of concern.

Three was just the icing on a bloody nasty cake. He felt sure that there was at least one bleeding wound on his body. Something liquid but sticky was near the broken arm and his finger tip felt it. A sad fact that he recognized blood in all of its stages, fresh, drying, dried and flaking off. He couldn’t even tell how deep the wound went, or were it was.

Going over the injuries of his body had calmed him down a small bit, but the young man was unable to see anything and having reminders about his first encounter with the infamous James Gillies was not helping things any. Now, he needed to find something else to get his mind out of the flashback forming. Harming himself wasn’t an option. He kept repeating it.

Llewellyn could barely hear anything outside of the metal and wall pieces that covered him. That, that could be a problem with listening for anyone willing to get down to where they were in rescue. How would he be able to hear if they were coming and try to get their attention?

Would he be able to get their attention?

“You, you are Llewellyn Ogden,” he told himself, a sort of strengthening to keep him from panicking. Something that he was guided into doing after remembering and having a crisis over all the knowledge he learned after. “Your mother is a best seller of a series of books based off her husband in their past life. She still got her medical license, but she wanted to take care of you instead of overnight ER shifts. She remembered her past life when she was pregnant with you. Will-William remembered a few months after remeeting her. George remember almost a year later. Henry remember after meeting Ruth. Grandpa remember years and years ago. Jackson remember after becoming Detective. You, I remember after having my heart broken by Jack Walker, again. About the same reasoning, again.” The slight anger over the situation with Jack pushed him farther into not being afraid and terrified of the situation more than the information he was repeating to get his thoughts in control.

<i>I remember.</i>

He paused at the voice of James Gillies jutting into his thoughts without an invitation. That was a voice he didn’t want to experience ever again. Mom and William had to tell him the full story about the man after his second kidnapping, since he know remembered their past life.

Right, he didn’t want to remember those ones. James Gillies remembered and buried him alive for his first kidnapping. Eva Pierce remembered. That was a horrifying lesson with Mom being shot and William being assaulted in their past lives. She hadn’t approached them yet, but Mom said she got assurances over George and Henry shooting her if she tried approaching William again.

There was a groan outside of the darkness that stopped his spiral into the void of his mind. “Mr. Pendrick,” he tried, voice cracking with dryness that it lowered the volume that he thought he had. Forcing himself to cough, something slid up and he coughed out a lump of mucus and *something* come out before he spat it out. “That was disgusting.” The first couple of breaths after that was annoying, but after that, he managed a deep amount of air for shouting. “Mr. Pendrick!”

Only a resulting moan, and likely only because of the sound he was generating was getting a standard reaction. “Mr. Pendrick! James!” The last yell pulled at the wound he didn’t know and he gasped in pain while thinking about the danger of where the injury was.

He wasn’t sure if he should try shouting again. It had been a few more minutes, and he didn’t hear anything from the other man. He needed him awake, though. To gauge how bad his injuries were and to hopefully have a distraction. It felt like James Gillies was hovering around him, ready to remind him of the casket. James Pendrick loved to talk, about everything from his inventing issues to his ex wife (who was another that apparently he had to watch out for, there was a lot that he didn’t know about the last life) to the stock market and Llewellyn had to keep up with everything.

“Mr. Pendrick,” he called again, the stretch of his injury making him wince. *I might be impaled.* He remembered what happened to Emily, and how long it took for her to get back to work. Hers had also been almost dead center of her chest, and she had George and Henry along with a trip to the hospital within a half hour. This was at his side, if he was right. And he didn’t know how long it would take for anyone to get down to where they were trapped.

“Fuck off, Watts,” he groaned.

That shocked Llewellyn. He had never introduced himself as Llewellyn Watts. Not even after he remembered. His grandson had married someone that forbid even the knowledge that he was the man’s illegitimate son from getting out from immediate family. She was a lawyer, and managed to draft up such a restrictive agreement if Mom kept him. Not allowed his own name, not allowed to acknowledge existence if someone bought up how close he looked to the man. She didn’t want them in the same section of the city as they lived. *Thankfully, Mom managed to argue for at least telling future marriage partners. Although William wouldn’t have been ignorant for long even with the restriction in place. He would have figured it out within a few weeks.*

“Mr. Pendrick,” he said, a small chill building up, “Mr. Pendrick, My name is not Watts.”

There was a moan, and a sharp shout as the man must have tried to move and found out he had some serious injuries. After a couple of minutes, he managed to say something else. “Detective Llewellyn Watts. I met you at Station House Four, one, two years ago,” he rattled, groaning when he tried again. Or maybe his was a continuing pain. “It was a small meeting, but oh so interesting. Smart as Murdoch as well, with a different bent toward languages and words. Thomas carefully watched over you more than I ever saw with his subordinates. And Murdoch changed the subject when I inquired about your possible left-footedness.”

His breath caught. Now was not the time to have someone remember the past life. This was the absolute worse time. Unless James Gillies was nearby. Then it would be the worst.

“Julia had the most interesting reaction. It reminded me of the older sister of a woman that I wanted to court,” he continued.

That, that actually made him feel warm about his mother being protective over him in the past life as well. He never really saw it, even when he went to their home in the later years. “Mr. Pendrick, I need you to listen carefully,” he started, “It’s not Nineteen-Twelve. It’s Two Thousand Twenty-One. I’m not Llewellyn Watts, I’m not a Detective. Station House Four no longer exists as you are remembering.”

“Watts, this isn’t funny.”

“Look down at your wrist, you’re going to see something called a Smart Watch.” He waited a few seconds before he heard the sharp gasp of surprise. “Mr. Pendrick, you are remembering what is likely your past life. Several things are different for the current time.”

There was a silence that started to scare him. Either the man fell unconscious thanks to the new knowledge overloading his brain. He fell unconscious because he had a concussion, which meant the man might have a brain injury that needed to be treated sooner than his possible impalement. Along with Gillies floating through his thoughts, his terror spiked before he made it settle.

“All I remember is my previous life,” he admitted. That fear was still bubbling, but it was on simmer instead of rolling. “Question, in this life, am I still with my wife?”

He only had a little bit of knowledge about this. “From what I gathered, she ran off with some blueprints on something you were building. Hasn’t shown up since, although there is an Interpol warrant on her?”

Pendrick must have been going through that knowledge. “Perhaps she’ll threatened Julia again and William will kill her with another laser again,” he said.

That surprised him. William, a murderer? “What?!”

There was a bit of laughter from the other side of the debris covering him. “Oh, I’m surprised you never learned of that,” he said, “There are stories I will need to tell you about the two of them. A bit of the crazy stuff I’ve done as well.”

Llewellyn thought about what he hadn’t learned from his Mom and Grandpa. They told him about the dangerous people and situations that were popping up in the current time. James and Robert, Eva Pierce, the first murders being repeat victims. They never seemed to talk about the past mistakes, jokes were private and something he couldn’t pick up on. *I wonder if he knows anything truly embarrassing for a good laugh.*

“So, you are not Llewellyn Watts?”

He sighed. “I am Llewellyn. Not Watts. I have my mother’s maiden name.”

“Ahh.” There was movement, but he didn’t know why. “Are you a detective anymore?”

“Not now,” he revealed, remembering his last ‘break’ that he had from Station House Four and when he went back, “The career of Law Enforcement is not one that I am ever considering in the current life.”

“Good, good.” There was a pause. “So, what is your last name?”

“Ummm,” he hemmed, debating on what he should say. When he applied, he had almost been stopped for using it, the people believing that he was faking or joking. Right now, after hearing about how Mom reacted about him in the previous life, James might not tell him the stories.

“Former Detective Llewellyn, if your name isn’t Watts, would you give me the current one? Hard to make connections to what I know and remember to what is in the current life.”

He had to spit as something formed in his mouth before he could answer. “As long as you still tell me the stories about William and Julia,” he said.

“Oh, God, is your last name currently Murdoch?” he asked, sounding aghast.

He laughed, the first thing to sound funny enough to do so with all the knowledge that he’s been gathering. *Jackson thought I was *their* child when he found out. Bloody hilarious.* “Ogden. Mom retook the name when she started printing books.” He had to pause as his body was starting to radiate pain from trying to move. It took him a minute to stop. “Julia, she’s my Mom now.”

There was a slightly longer silence. “Oh, Dear God.”

Henry actually flinched when the light that had been swinging finally fell. The place went almost completely dark. “Well, that shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was,” George complained.

There had been a few more moans and groans as people they didn’t know about started struggling back to consciousness. Henry had been asking questions and leading people into talking to see who needed massive help and who would be able to move under their own abilities. One that only had a laceration to the arm was going around and checking on those that couldn’t answer.

“That lasted longer than I thought it would,” someone pointed out.

“Yeah, but now there’s no more light,” the wanderer added, “At least until search and rescue get down here.”

The sitting detective could hear them trying to keep going. “Stop moving and stay near where you are,” Henry suggested.

“Well, unless I find a flashlight.”

The man rolled his eyes and turned back to roughly where his partner was. “Keep calm, Henry,” George muttered.

“I don’t do calm,” he shot back. George snorted, the only laugh he could do without too much pain. “I think I’m about to lose the wager.” At the questioning hum, he kept going. “I don’t hear anything coming from the likely areas of entry. Murdoch likely won’t be down within five minutes.” Again with a hum. *George doesn’t have any energy to keep talking.* He didn’t like that. A George that didn’t talk worried him, scared him. Terrified him.

A shuffle and someone tapped him on a shoulder. “I thought I said you should stop moving and stay,” he said.

“I remember a fair bit of the layout,” they said. He heard a bit of crunching. “I’m surprised neither of you have a flashlight on you. Figured police would keep lights on them.”

“Constables still do,” George muttered.

“But not detectives? Congrats, you will now have a new rule to carry flashlights when you go back to work,” they mocked, “They’ll investigate this event and pass out tiny little pen lights.” There was a couple of seconds before something bright showed up. “My screen is shattered, but I managed to figure out how to get the flashlight working.”

Henry groaned in disappointment. *Our phones have lights.* Something so basic that wasn’t remembered by anyone. The person started scanning the door that had drywall and wood pinning it and the man below it down. “If Jamie’s able, the two of us can haul this off. I think we might need to do it before rescue gets down.”

The man didn’t understand. “Why?”

“Very oddly, I can smell a heavy amount of blood coming from him specifically,” they mentioned, looking over apologetically when they revealed the why, “Side effect of, well.” They motioned by their legs and he got it. Henry nodded in acknowledgment. They continued looking. “Yeah, I see a heavy amount of blood, and…” In the glare of the light, the man saw their eyes bulge. “Bone.”

That was precisely what he didn’t want to know.

“I’m gonna see if there’s anyone else that could help me get this off. That needs to be tied sooner rather than later.” They slid on some plaster before going around and trying to find able people.

Henry got out his phone and found the button for the flashlight. Both hissed at the brightness of his until he dialed it down to the lowest setting. “My screen’s cracked, but I still have seventy percent charge.”

George managed to nod. “I forgot to charge mine before we left. Twenty percent,” he complained, “And Effie’s been chatting with me.”

Effie? “I didn’t know the two of you re-met.”

“Exact same way, your wedding,” he mumbled. The knowledge that he was bleeding and a bone was poking through did nothing for his energy. “Except we didn’t get Ruth’s brother killed due to incompetence and she didn’t have my notes for ransom.” Yep, he remembered that. “It’s the same and different this time.”

“Oh?”

That line of conversation stopped when they managed to get back to the two with another person, and a coat. “Not Jamie, but Percy can lift it with me. Then, we’ll working on slowing down the blood flow to the wound,” they informed.

“’Lo,” the man greeted. The two got around the door and lifted. Once they had it off, they shifted it away from George and let it slide down the debris pile to the wall. Then, everyone got a good look at George’s wounds. “Arm is broken in multiple areas, with a large piece of bone sticking out,” he repeated, “Good thing Sis made me learn this stuff.” Pulling out a pocket knife, he started carefully cutting into the coat.

“Hey, Dani, rip some of Trevor’s coat for me,” someone called, “I want something to press again Sam’s leg.” They looked over to Percy, who managed to finish an arm so they could take it over. He managed to make several long strips from the body along with the sleeve being used to stop another bleed. One he used to bind around George’s open wound. Tying it only slightly tight, the man grimaced, but didn’t complain.

Being left alone, with the man going around and helping those that he could find, George felt a little better talking. “You definitely lost the bet,” he whispered.

“Yeah, yeah, I definitely lost the bet.” George groaned as he tried to sit up. Henry stopped him. “What the hell are you doing?”

He tried to still get up, but allowed himself to be forced back down. “Being on my back is doing me no wonders. I keep being poked by drywall and whatever else was in the walls and ceiling.” Frowning, he also managed to catch Henry better. “I also want to be able to see what they’re all doing. Being down like this doesn’t bring a sense of comfort or relief.”

“Staying down’s likely to be better for your health,” he said, “You’re not suppose to move injured people.”

George kept frowning and wanted to sit up. “I am not relying on you for eyesight.”

“No, you’re relying on me for explanations. It isn’t better, but you’ll know something,” he said.

He sighed, “At least remove some of the rubble poking me in the back.”

“I’m not touching that.”

“Henry.”

He shook his head. “Not doing it.”

“Just get me flat,” he complained.

“You two sound like an old married couple,” someone yelled. The two men looked over in the general direction.

“What do you mean sound? I thought they were a pair of married ones,” someone else shouted. Henry had to hold back a loud groan, burying his face in his hands over the amount of embarrassment coming up. At least it didn’t sound like Dani. Considering half of their whispering had been heard by the young person while they were going around and gathering information, they might have been the first thinking they were.

Speaking of Dani, they showed back up with a fair bit more blood on themselves that they started with. They saw the focus that Henry gave them. “It’s not mine. M-most of it. I thought I could save someone. They were awake, but the blood coming out was too much for survival,” they sadly said. It took them a minute to continue talking. “Percy’s head is paining him, so he’s taking a break. There are m-maybe five others, but we can’t get to some of the rooms and the people that we think we hear.”

Henry nodded, taking all of it in. There wasn’t that much surprise at the amount of people they managed to get out and how many were likely caught under things, unable to move. “Who’s the worst injured currently?”

“There’s one that has multiple breaks in her leg, and possibly a rib as well.”

Hopefully, they wouldn’t be figuring out how to get people out of there themselves. Broken bones are painful, but they weren’t the dangerous things that some of the buried were likely dealing with. “No one in the group you’ve collected has internal bleeding?” George asked. Henry was grateful, as he was still getting to the point of asking. They shook their head. “No chest pains? Odd pains?”

“Not that’s been noticed.”

It would be the only thing they got out of them. “Tell everyone to save their battery. We don’t know how long it’s going to take for crews to get here.” They went to inform everyone else.

“You should turn off your flashlight,” George muttered, “Murdoch’s gonna arrive with backup after both our bets.” Henry silently agreed. The light had only burned off two percent, but if any sort of signal managed to get in, then he could get information out. The area went black again.

Julia indeed had a concussion. The EMT made her stay in the shade of the bus for an hour while they started digging into the debris to try and get to the other floors, and to the bottom of the basement levels. William had gotten checked over as well. Most were seriously deep bruising that he wasn’t surprised by. There was something worse in his wrist, a possible fracture by the feel of it. The EMTs words, not his. In most cases, he would have gone and gotten it treated carefully. Right now, he didn’t want to leave the site until they got his two men and stepson out.

Meyers walked over, with Harry staying and directing the people going in and out with debris and rubble to try and clean entryways. “Doctor Ogden, I come with a request from the nearby hospital,” he announced.

She didn’t like what was going to come out of his mouth, did she? Her son was buried, again, and she wanted to be here when they got to him. She had a hunch that his request would mean leaving. “What is it?”

“They need help, badly,” he informed, “The amount of injured is overwhelming their staff, and this isn’t even with the ones that we will start sending once we start getting them out. There’s supplies heading to them now, but their doctors were not prepared for a good amount of the building’s staff to be sent for moderate to severe injuries.”

She knew a distraction when she saw one. A good one, but still a distraction. Her need to help was sliding up to her need to get to her son and calmly wrapping around it and stopping her from demanding to stay and see him when they get him up. “Roughly forty minutes to an hour, and I’ll be stable enough to do surgeries,” she said, knowing her limits weren’t the greatest. It would likely be small ones, but it would be enough until her head cleared.

“We’ll get you some food to speed that up,” he said, “Something solid in your stomach should help.”

Feeling as if this was an attempt to keep her away from getting involved once they started getting down to Pendrick and Llewellyn, she wanted to stay. William took one of her hands. “I will be there when they find him,” he promised.

Julia nodded after a few seconds, “Be careful yourself. I don’t want to hear about that wrist fracture getting worse.”

“No heavy lifting debris,” he said, “Just myself through the ruins.”

“That’s still heavy lifting,” she teased. There were small smiles on both of their faces before they were interrupted with a support worker holding a sandwich and fruit juice. “Oh, good, apple and ham. The combo of residence students everywhere.”

“Ham?” he asked.

She nodded, “You take what one can get, William. There are allowances.” Hopefully, there was a bit more. His stomach was started to make itself known a little bit. And he didn’t want to try getting anything in the town, considering what they’ll be deal with once the initial rescues were done on the building. They’re going to be flooded with people that have family in the wreckage, and news reporters once they heard.

Once the hour had past, she got herself up and out of the shade of the bus. Wincing at the light, she checked her arms, making sure there wasn’t any open wounds or sores, and that she wasn’t in pain from doing tiny movements. “Ready as I’ll be,” she muttered.

Meyers came back and pointed her to a car. William carefully watched her talk, and nod at the excitement the two people displayed. She turned where she knew he was watching and waved before getting in their car and being driven off. “The two that just drove off were doctors being called in early due to the bomb aftermath,” Harry said, coming up behind him mostly quiet. “They heard there was a trauma trained doctor from Toronto, not that it was the famous Doctor Julia Ogden.”

Murdoch’s calm took on a slightly angry tint. “Why are you here?” he asked, looking at Harry. “You told me that you took the advice of a fellow ‘agent’ and didn’t contact any of us until it became necessary. This seems out of your purview for your work.”

He frowned, knowing that his son had general reasoning for his anger. He didn’t show up for the wedding, but he did send a gift. Never showed up for Jasper, or Susannah. Keeping himself away kept them safe. “Pendrick’s wife has shown back up in Canada,” he informed.

The detective straightened. “Sally Pendrick is nearby?”

“She’s in Canada. Popped up in Newfoundland, St. John’s, then over by Halifax. Possible sighting in Toronto last week.” That did not help his worries about the bomb at all. “We don’t think she’s behind this.”

Murdoch did not like the sound of that. “Think?!” Harry stared him down. He didn’t care. He remembered Sally from the last time. Finding out about her theft and the Interpol warrant did not to change her mind. “How dangerous is she this time?”

“This time?” he questioned. A slip up, possibly minor, possibly not considering who was around. “William, what do you know about the Pendrick situation?”

*This is not a good idea. This is not a good idea-* “Which one? The current one or the previous time?”

Harry quickly registered what he meant. “I was hoping you wouldn’t remember,” he muttered. A brief moment of silence for his actions in the past life before he went on. “Currently, her selling Pendrick’s blueprints is small game. She has ties to a few countries that are working on weapons and spy equipment. Hasn’t framed her husband for a murder yet. Hasn’t killed anyone by her own hand yet. Intel suggests that she isn’t behind the bombing. This likely has something to do with one of Pendrick’s competitors.”

That didn’t sound the greatest. “Pendrick’s competitors would buy him up and suppress his inventions,” he said, being reminded of the Bullet.

“Not this time. One of his inventions has broken up a major market, almost a monopoly. He’s angering people.”

Not surprised at James managing to get into a monopoly and break it up. Surprised that the people weren’t smart on how to get rid of the competition. *Killing people will produce targets on their backs. Even the wealthy can’t escape.* “Sally Pendrick is my current case. Her husband is tangentially connected. I’m watching him while getting surveillance over her,” he informed.

Murdoch knew not to underestimate Sally, remembering the kidnappings from last time. There was now also the added target of Llewellyn, who hadn’t really been involved with Pendrick events in the last life. In fact, the assistant thing was really… “Pendrick’s former assistants,” he remembered, from the past life but applying it now, “Did any of them hate him and quit or switch to competitors after being fired?”

Harry took a minute to review the information he could recall. “Two.” He pulled out a phone and immediately called up someone. “Travers. Documents on Karnaki and Matthews.”

*Matthews was murdered by Clegg.* “Karnaki worked with Sally the last time,” Murdoch muttered.

He nodded. “Focus on Karnaki, still get me Matthews.” He hung up and looked at his son expectedly.

“If it’s the same Matthews, he was murdered when James was inventing a small aircraft coveted by both the Americans and the Canadians. It was either directly by Allen Clegg or his people.”

The man froze at the name. “Allen Clegg. His name has come up a few times during my work.”

Murdoch rattled off, “Previously, he was an American agent that eventually went rogue from his own government as well. He attempted to start a war so the US could invade before the climate destroyed parts of the United States, tried to kill Roosevelt on a hunting trip. Kidnapped Pendrick to figure out a cure for rabies when he was bit. Infected Julia with a super variant to make him work faster-”

It was a load of new information of events that he didn’t know last time. His own fault, he didn’t have the structure nor support that he managed to have after his wife’s death and it lead him into terrible decisions and his own murder. He held up a hand before William could keep going. “I’ll add him to my watchlist.” It was an uncomfortable minute before he found a different, but also important, topic. “Who else knows about the past?”

“Julia,” he immediately said. There was a small thought to start listing off the others, but he wasn’t sure what the man would do with that information. Julia made the most amount of sense to say with them being married again.

He nodded. “I’m assuming Crabtree, Higgins, your Father In Law, possibly your stepson,” Harry added, logically jumping through people that would make sense as to who was in their inner circles.

Well, there went that. “James Gillies and his boyfriend Robert Perry.” That drew a surprised look. “Admitted it when we’ve tried catching them.”

“James Pendrick?”

He shook his head. “Meyers?”

“If he does, he’s not showing it.” That wasn’t surprising.

Murdoch watched as the rescue crew started getting excited around the entrance to the former building. After a few minutes, a stretcher came out with a person, and multiple others that must have been caught barely walked out. “They must have started getting into the lower areas already,” he hoped, “It was a light day today, the upper levels were almost cleared before the bomb went off. Most of the staff was in the lower levels”

“There’s at least one more layer before they will even get to the one with Crabtree and Higgins. And two before Pendrick and Watts.”

“Ogden,” he corrected, Harry looking over at him, “Llewellyn will not be able to use Watts as his surname. His biological father’s wife had legal papers served to Julia when she found out about the pregnancy, especially when she continued it. His father’s not even part of his life. Never truly met him.”

Harry thought that was bullshit. He was a bad father, there was no doubt about this. He abandoned his kids after they lost their mother. They went into foster families, he went and had a small affair and still produced Jasper. Abandoned him as well when the Intelligence work got dangerous enough for it to track him down. The man that sired Llewellyn Watts, sorry, Ogden, sounded like he lost his balls when he married this woman.

The two of them looked up when a rescue worker approached them. “I was told that you would want to know when we started getting into Basement Level Two,” she said, her climbing rigging jingling, “They’re moving debris out of one of the elevators to test if its possible to get into the floors better and through them faster for transporting severe injured out.”

“How’s the structure?” Murdoch inquired.

“Whatever the bomb was composed of has definitely weakened the floors and ceiling. We’re working on finding the beams. They’ve proven to be relatively sturdy and holding onto the remaining drywall and plaster. Once we get those mapped out, it’s thought to make things faster to get to injured and get them checked.”

That didn’t paint the greatest picture. Trying to get down to the remaining people might disturb something enough to seen more broken items onto them. “There’s going to be a rig in the elevator?” The woman nodded. “I’ll use the interior ladder once that’s set up.”

“He’ll be using the rig. His wife warned him about lifting himself,” Harry said, mocking him slightly. Murdoch glared at him before walking with the rescue worker to apparently be fitted with a harness.

James was tired.

He had been drifting in and out of consciousness while talking with Llewellyn about what was the new normal for their lives. Bugging him about Murdoch and Doctor Ogden revealed a lot about the couple he didn’t know. William was still a detective, even at the same Station House, even if they weren’t called Station Houses anymore and it was not Fifty-One. Julia was still a doctor, but hadn’t decided to go for psychology, or really practiced consistently. She had gotten in a car crash during her first residency and they were going to make her redo it while she was caring for a young child. She said fuck it until he was eight by going for a writing career instead to get money. Crabtree and Higgins were detectives as well, the future needing more detectives and more constables to deal with more people. Thomas Brackenreid had retired from Chief Constable to paint. He also had four children, and only one grandchild at the moment. John and Bobby he figured. Julia and Ruby, who were sisters previously, were not. Which also meant that Llewellyn was the only grandchild.

After finding out about some cases with a modern twist, he fell asleep again. Waking up, the pain reminded him why it was a bad idea to exist under debris with multiple broken areas. He twisted and moved injured areas while he accidentally slept. He thought he was also hallucinating someone crying. There had been no others, and it wouldn’t be surprising if he halfway was in the middle of an old memory. The more he woke up, the more he realized that it was coming from the debris that he figured W- Llewellyn was stuck under.

“Llewellyn,” he whispered. *Too weak, Pendrick. Come on, get louder.* “Llewellyn. Watts!” He knew that would get him to repeat the Ogden remark. James kept mixing up the times. He thought he deserved to carry his old name. “Watts. What’s going on? Explain it to me.”

It took a couple of minutes, which was a worry as the young man had been reasonably calm after they had started talking before his unintended nap. *“Mr. Pendrick.”*

Oh, that didn’t sound good. *He must have been crying for a while.* “Llewellyn, I want an explanation.”

There was a shaky gasp that he barely managed to hear. *“You’ve, you’ve only asked about those from the Station House that have recovered their memories. Some of the criminals they’ve, we’ve, gone after also remember.”* That worried James, as his first thought was his ex-wife. Then, Terrence Meyers and Allen Clegg cropped up unwanted. *“One of them is James Gillies.”*

James had never dealt with the man that shared his first name. His adventures always hit at a different time than the man’s crimes. “What happened, Llewellyn?” he asked.

There was a small sniffle. His current assistant was strong, even when he faced some of the angriest workers and investors. Hearing him sound fearful and terrified was a startling contrast. *“He buried me.”*

“Buried?!”

*“The last time, he buried Mom. To get back at Murdoch, he was hoping that it would take too long to get to her.”* James hadn’t known that. He would have to ask the man when it happened along the old timeline. *“He grabbed me after a dance. Buried me in a casket that was similar to the CSI one, only with no light period. Had it rigged up so I could talk to them.”*

Oh, god.

There was still an inkling of his claustrophobia, and he had several windows and mirrors to remind him he wasn’t trapped somewhere. Being buried alive was still a fear that he didn’t think would be unlocked hearing about that. “How long did you have to endure that?”

*“Only, only a couple of hours. They would have unburied me if anything happened to Mom or William. Their own limit was two days.”*

Jesus fucking Christ. He never wanted to meet James Gillies. The bastard would probably kill him when he tried to hit him. “That doesn’t help the fear, though, does it?”

More sniffling. *“No.”*

James didn’t have a lot of experience with dealing helping someone through their fears. “What does?” he asked.

*“Talking to someone. I panicked when the connection was severed. Mom was on the other side, she kept talking to keep me going. You fell asleep. I...”* There was a shudder. *“Along with the reminder, I wasn’t sure if you would wake back up. I, I tried rousing you. I yelled out your name and panicked when you didn’t answer.”*

All right. He was going to have to stay up. “Watts.”

*“Ogden.”*

Good start. He was correcting him. “You’re going to have to keep me up. Question me on anything.”

* “Anything?* That piqued some interest in him, if he was right on the tone of voice. *“I want to know more about Mom and William in the past life. How and why did William kill your ex-wife with a laser?”*

He chuckled, “So, for reference, I was not there. She was holding me hostage in another place.” It was a rough ride for his head as the pain started increasing. “Sally was kidnapping people, geniuses and inventors. It was a convention of the best and brightest. Murdoch obviously went, along with Julia. When the disappearances started, Brackenreid and George turned up to start investigating. Then, she foolishly kidnapped them, all of them. While they were down there figuring it out, she arrived with her thugs. Threatened to kill Julia. He turned their new invention on her.”

There was a quiet that he was unsure of whether it was good or bad. *“I think I remember the aftermath of that. I didn’t think William would be capable of that type of hatred.”*

“It was Julia. Are you saying you haven’t seen that in action?”

*“I’m not part of their ‘adventures’ at work.”* There was a thinking pause. *“Mom hit James Gillies when he showed his face after he buried me. Henry got video.”*

He laughed, “That sounds like Julia.”

* “Wha-”* Coughing cut him off and he winced at the sound. The wetness of it worried him. *“What happened the first time you met Murdoch?”*

Oh, this, this was going to take some time. “So, let me start off as saying Murdoch didn’t trust me for a while.”

Henry and George had a hard time figuring out where the excess of noise was starting to come from. Henry thought it was the building starting to settle on the new cracks and limited support from the walls. George thought it sounded mechanical. The employees that had managed to get themselves gathered were watching the area where the sound was coming from with trepidation.

“Well beyond both of our bets,” Henry murmured.

“Didn’t take into consideration that outside forces are here,” George muttered, moving yet again. The debris was cutting off circulation to several areas of his body. And Henry wouldn’t move them. “Likely stopped him from going one man rescue party with Doctor Ogden.”

He nodded. Other people, it was always other people. “Search and rescue better have us up and out before going down to Llew and James,” he said. “Julia’s not going to wait very much longer.”

“Especially with it being the epicenter of the bomb.” George didn’t know that much about explosives, but this one wreaked a good chunk of the building. It was surprising how much was still standing. “It’s dark in here. It’ll be worse down there.”

Henry nodded, forgetting that neither could see the motion. Then, he paused as he remembered the last time everything went dark. “Llewellyn’s probably had three panic attacks from the darkness,” he said.

“It’s wrong to hope that he’s completely unconscious, but that’s likely going to be the only thing keeping him from going insane down there,” George mentioned, “Given how we’re buried, it wouldn’t be surprising that it might take a couple of hours more to get them out.”

The other man huffed. “Oh, she wouldn’t want to hear that from anyone. She would work it out with William on figuring out something that would work in five minutes. Like the liquids that he used to destroy the pole in Emily.”

George agreed, not nodding because that hurt his head the last time. “Then she would be checking him over before allowing the EMTs near him.” Out of curiosity, he lit his phone up so he could check the time. “About five hours since the initial explosion.”

“Here’s hoping that neither had a severe laceration or impalement making them bleed out,” Henry thought aloud.

Then he winced when the man started bringing his Newfoundland cursing out. After several minutes of colorful phrases insulting his heritage, his previous life, his current life, his supposed scam on getting Ruth to marry him twice, something to do with mouth breathing, the man ran out of steam. “Henry, why, why would you put that possibility into my head and let it immediately boil?” he asked.

“I couldn’t help it! It was in my head.”

“Well, now it’s in my head,” he complained, “I don’t want to think about either of them bleeding out.”

“Neither do I!”

“Oh, for Pendrick’s sake, you two are terrible,” someone whined among the group.

George caught that adulteration. “Pendrick’s sake? Is he really that much you would swear in his name instead?”

“He’s the perfect thing to swear against,” someone mumbled.

Henry snorted, he couldn’t help it. Bending down to where the ear should have been, he muttered, “The man would have been bigger than Christ the last time as well.

“Oh, shut it, Higgins,” he said, whacking him on the arm that was close to him.

Everyone stopped listening to them when one of the walls near the elevator started shaking and crumbling. Worried, the more able ones were getting themselves ready to rush into a different room with the remaining people unable to move between all of them.

The doors opened at the same time as the wall broke and released more debris and dust at the injured that were trying to escape. Bright lights blinded everyone until the headlamps of the rescue workers went above their head. “I have at least five to seven that can move under own steam and four hat will need to be carted up,” the man reported while he scanned the group.

A few others started moving about, getting information from Dani and Percy over injured that were buried and not reachable at the moment. One man zoomed in on Henry and George. It was strange not seeing him in a suit with dress shoes, but the stripped down look and heavy boots worked better for the current job. “Murdoch,” George greeted, instantly happy to see the senior detective.

“George, Henry,” he nodded. There was a bit of blood out of both of them, and he saw the white of George’s broken arm bone. “At least Henry will be able to help you out of the area, George.”

He agreed. “Here I am hoping that Doctor Ogden’s story remains that for myself.”

Henry looked around. “Speaking of the doc. She’s not with you?”

The man shook his head. “Recruited into helping the nearby hospital. The two of you didn’t get down in time to see Llewellyn and James, did you?”

“No,” George said, “And we haven’t heard anything from below us either.”

“Nothing has tried breaking through except for the rescue teams just now,” Henry added, “Two of the staffers said that Pendrick kept his area light on people. It’s likely that they were the only ones down there. Everyone else had gotten up to this floor when the explosion happened.”

From the team’s standpoint, that was good, as less people meant less time in the building that started sounding as if it wanted to collapse and finish taking all the people with it. Murdoch wondered why he wanted more people to be found alongside his stepson and James. “Get yourselves up and treated. The town is small, so communications are going to be in and out. But businesses have opened up for the less injured and families coming up to check on their missing.”

Henry looked over at George, and frowned as that meant he would have to figure out how to get his partner movable so get to the elevator. He spent all that time making sure he didn’t move in case it made things worse for the injured man. George had already pressed his good arm against the rubble and heaved the best he could. Murdoch got under an opening with his good arm. The two held an awkward embrace as George leaned on him uncomfortably close to make sure he was stable on his legs before letting go.

Then, he was lifted to his feet.

“Go get Llewellyn,” Henry said.

“And Pendrick,” George added, “Who knows? Maybe this incident made him remember.”

Henry groaned, and Murdoch wondered what they were talking about before the rescue team managed to get on to the floor. It was likely bad, something along the lines of worst case scenarios. Given the damage to the building, a callback to Doctor Grace’s impalement was a given.

<i>Who were they talking about when thinking about that? Both, probably both.</i>

Here he was hoping that neither got that unlucky, but considering what’s happened in both lives, he wasn’t putting a lot of luck into it.

Once they started getting people up, some of the rescuers started going around and working on piles that were either burying possible living or blocking rooms where calls for help started filtering through. The worker that stuck with him, one of Meyers team that was called in, waited until his men were up before going down with him.

The last level was the hardest to get into, naturally. The debris blocked the door on the other side up to the edge. It started coming down on them when they managed to get the doors open. Several of the workers caught and quickly placed things alongside the wall and on the floor. Murdoch ended up using a rob that poked through to jam and force the debris wall to fall the other way. Barely enough, they still had to let several large bits in to get room to crawl through.

Murdoch didn’t like the view going forward. The previous level at least had some structure and walls intact, or at least up. This had more walls down, and it made for uneven paths. Several times, they went through the old walls of rooms instead of what appeared to be hallways. Carefully taking out electrical cords and pushing them to make holes when they did get to their last targets.

“William Murdoch,” a weak voice announced. Spinning around, he saw James Pendrick half buried under the rubble from the ceiling. His shoulder was unnaturally higher than it should have been. There was a fair amount of blood, but it seemed dried a bit. He couldn’t see his legs at all. “The perfect vision to receive right after being blinded by flashlights.”

“Pendrick.” He wanted to kneel down next to the man. It wasn’t a good look to see him so injured. In the last life, there hadn’t been any major illnesses or anything as such to see him like this.

He barely managed a nod to a large collection of ceiling and drywall piled up a few feet away. “You need to get to him. I haven’t been able to wake him back up,” he warned.

William backed away when one rescuer got close to start triage. Looking over the complicated mess that landed on top of Llewellyn, he carefully started pulling on pieces that wouldn’t cause a collapse. Throwing it away from everyone else, he only realized he got help when James had been bundled up on a stretcher between three workers.

It was the woman that had interrupted Harry and him before he came down.

Without words, they played Jenga on a wobbly stack that had to be removed and quickly tossed aside before gravity would come to help out and send everything either sliding into them or folding on top of the person underneath.

It took just over thirty minutes before anything human looking showed up under rubble. An arm, black and blue with gray dust covering it was noticed by someone on the right of Murdoch. Using it, he thought about getting in range to see Llewellyn’s head when it was uncovered before knowing that staying in the same area would be better. They only stopped moving things off when it was discovered that the part was actually part of the wall he was against.

Looking him over, his heart and head grew heavier and heavier. There was a trail of blood coming out of his mouth. Right hand had several broken fingers, which was also twisted to the point of wrist breakage. Blue, purple, dark colors all over his skin. The worst was three pieces of metal having entered his back at an angle and gone through his right side. While he wanted to think that it wasn’t hitting a lung, it had done something, a large puddle of blood dripping down through more debris and the floor.

There was still move that he couldn’t see.

“Your mother’s going to lock you away for a year,” he mumbled, carefully going through his hair in a gentle combing motion. He felt more tacky blood and two large bumps in his head to give pause. “Two years. She’s going to kill James.” Llewellyn started shifting underneath his movements. “Stop moving,” he hissed. It was a struggle for the person to stop. “Llewellyn, stop, you’re going to make things worse.”

There was an attempt to breath deeply, and he winced when he saw wet blood coming from between his lips. “Wllm,” he moaned.

“Yeah, it’s me. You can’t move, you’re severely injured.”

“Knw.”

Several of the workers were discussing ideas on how to get him out with the impaled areas. He half paid attention and more kept an eye on his former detective. His eyes were closed again, but he didn’t have the same breathing as sleeping.

“Pendrick’s one of the worst, and he’s taking the cart pretty well.”

“Getting him on there with that metal in his back is the issue,” another added.

“What’s the exact issue?” Murdoch asked.

The group turned to him. “The cart that we’ve been using for getting people up has pretty much worked because the current people we can get up there have been twisted and curled up on the stretcher. Out of necessity. We might not be able to do the same with him,” one explained, “The metal and his height will make it a challenge.”

“What are the options?”

They all looked around. “We’re still trying to figure that out. The shattered leg and the puncture wounds are dangerous to move.”

What could they do, what could they do-

Julia overestimated herself when she said an hour and she would be good for light surgeries.

The hospital was tiny enough to only house six to eight people during a flu season. There were right now over twenty, with more being tended to outside the doors. She had set multiple arms, performed smaller removals of shrapnel, sewed up numerous lacerations.

She hasn’t done this much ER work since her second residency.

Once most of them had been treated, they left as there wasn’t enough beds for everyone. Those that couldn’t walk were being driven to various homes that would watch and house the injured for safety reasons.

The call for her to come back onto the floor was after she downed a black coffee with a sandwich, chips, and a truly decadent brownie from a local grandmother. The rescuers had gotten down into a lower level and started getting some of the worse injuries.

“Julia!” a voice called out when she came back into the room.

“Henry!” she said, quickly walking over, “George!” The showing bone worried her, but someone finally managed to cover it from air.

“Shattered ankle for me, along with a grade a concussion, and George has a cracked rib and completely broken arm,” he informed.

“That’s much better than what I was expecting.”

George nodded, “We saw Murdoch. He checked on us but immediately went back to get down to the last level for the other two.”

That didn’t completely calm her, but it was news nonetheless. “I guess I’ll be listening for that in the coming hours.” She went to work on someone else while one of the doctor’s there took over their care.

It was two hours later, with another cup of coffee and more sweets, that they were telling her the ones from the bottom of the building had been recovered and arrived. “I can’t work on the young man,” she said.

“Doctor Ogden-”

“It’s an ethical concern. The younger man is my son,” she revealed, “That is why I was in the town in the first place. I cannot operate on my son.”

He looked down but then back at her. “You may be the only one with the experience here to do so.” That terrified her, and she hurried into the small operating room. James Pendrick was already being treated in an even smaller room. She saw the dislocated shoulder, distended chest, and multiple lacerations.

Stepping into the larger room, the nurses were already prepping for major surgery. She saw the pieces of metal sticking out of him, the crookedness of his arm and fingers, the signs of head injuries, and possibly broken ribs as well. *You worked on John in the previous life even when you knew him.* "If I stop in the middle of operation, please just jolt me. I will deal with the ethical and legal repercussions after this is all over," she warned. The nurses looked in awe and worry, but the doctor that would be assisting nodded. "Is there recording equipment in here?"

"Yes."

Perfect, she'll describe the situation for the future lawyers. Finding the microphone and wordlessly asking, she started talking when she got the okay. "Doctor Julia Ogden goes on record in performing on Llewellyn Ogden against medical ethical concern due to the relationship of parent and child between the two. With the limited personnel at the current hospital, it is considered necessary to keep the latter alive. I take full responsibility."

With that, she got cleaned up to work on her son.

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