"Max?" he croaks. It’s barely a whisper.
"I’m here," I say. My voice cracks. "I’ve got you."
"The driver..." Jax mumbles, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. "Did I... did I secure... the airway?"
"You saved him," I promise. "The tube held. He’s alive because of you."
Jax tries to smile, but his lips are too frozen. "Good... perimeter... secure..."
"Stop talking," I order. "Nurse, get those fluids running! Wide open! He needs volume and heat!"
"Dr. York."
Dr. Sterling is suddenly there. He is standing in the doorway of the Trauma Bay, still wearing his expensive overcoat. "Dr. York, you are not a trauma surgeon. Step aside. Let the ER attending handle this."
I turn on him.
I am holding a pair of trauma shears. I am covered in melting snow. I am watching the man I love shake apart from cold.
"Get out," I snarl.
Sterling blinks. "Excuse me?"
"This is my patient," I say. My voice is low, dangerous. "Andif you interrupt my triage for one second, I will have security remove you for interfering with a critical resuscitation."
Sterling looks at me. He sees something in my eyes that makes him take a step back. He sees that the "company man" is dead.
"Proceed," Sterling says stiffly.
I turn back to Jax.
"Max," Jax whispers. He’s fading. The shivering is slowing down. That’s bad. That means he’s losing the energy to fight.
"Stay with me," I say, grabbing a warm blanket from the warmer and throwing it over him. I tuck it in tight. "Do not close your eyes, O'Connell. That is a direct order."
"Tired..."
"I know. I know you're tired. But you have to stay awake."
I grab his hand. It’s ice cold. I rub it between mine, trying to transfer my heat, my will, my life force into him.
"You promised me a date," I say, my mouth close to his ear. "Real date. Cheeseburgers. No parents."
Jax’s eyes drift shut.
"Jax!"
"I’m... awake," he slurs. "Just... resting... my eyes..."
The monitor beeps. His heart rate is dropping.45 bpm.
"He’s bradying down!" Ortiz yells. "Doctor, should we push Atropine?"
"No," I say. "It’s the hypothermia. The heart is irritable. If we push meds, we risk sending him into V-Fib. We have to warm him up."
I look at the team.
"I want a peritoneal lavage," I order. "Warm saline into the abdomen. Core warming. Do it now."
