Message-ID: <54830asstr$1162599002@assm.asstr.org>
From: Shalon Wood <dstar@pele.cx>
Subject: {ASSM} Prudence, TX Population 1276 53 (Mff ff Mm rom)
Lines: 359
Date: Fri, 03 Nov 2006 19:10:02 -0500
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SPECIAL NOTE FOR READERS OF _Jason and Kylie, Naked In School_:

You may or may not be aware, but Shalon broke his arm in two places three weeks ago; Jason and Kylie is temporarily on hold (he had a nice cushion built up on Pandora's Box, which is why he switched to that). Please see http://playground.pele.cx for details, including news on when Jason and Kylie will return.

If you have any questions, please email us, or visit our forums at http://playground.pele.cx/forums and ask.
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Standard disclaimers apply; this story may or may not contain, in any
given part, graphic depictions of lesbianism, homosexuality, group sex,
bdsm, underage (teen) sex, magic, occultism, violence, and biting 
sarcasm.  If you're underage, or if for any other reason it's illegal 
for you to read this, or you're disturbed by the content, please don't 
read it.

Archived at http://prudence.pele.cx, and we've got a web-forum at
http://playground.pele.cx/forums as well, for discussion of both
Prudence and our other stories. Send an email to velvet@pele.cx and
I'll add you to the mailing list to be notified when Prudence
updates. 

Comments *greatly* appreciated.

Enjoy,

Velvet
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Mark picked Kristen up and headed downstairs, to where he'd left his shoes.
"Steven!" he called, as he passed his father-in-law's door. 

Steven was fully dressed, his reading glasses low on his nose when he
opened the door. "I'm up, son. What's wrong?" He stepped forward, reaching
for Kristen's limp wrist. "What the fuck happened?"

Mark carefully transferred her to Steven's arms, then reached for his
shoes. "I think Angie Sloan tried to commit suicide."

"And this has _what_ to do with Kristen?" Steven asked, as he lay her on
the couch and wrapped a blanket around her.

"She and Angie have a life-bond," Mark explained. "It's... there are
problems with it. Basically, Kristen's energy is going into trying to keep
Angie alive. I'll explain in the car."

"All right," Steven said tightly. "Hurry then."

Mark nodded. "I called the sheriff about Angie. Told him I had an emergency
with Kris, was taking her to the hospital. We're supposed to meet him by
Angie's house. If she did try it, he'll have a chopper on its way to have
the two of them airlifted to the hospital."

"Good. I'll drive, you hold her."

#

She was still breathing. Mark kept checking, during the short, harrowing
high-speed drive to the edge of town, and though it was slow and shallow,
Kristen was still breathing. 

After what seemed like hours but couldn't have been more than a few
minutes, Steven pulled to a stop in front  of a small house on the
outskirts of town. There were two cars in the drive, one of them the police
car. "Ed's car is gone," he said, frowning sharply.

"Ed's her husband?" Mark asked.

Steven nodded, yanking up the parking break. "Stay put. I'll find out
what's up." He slid out the door and dashed through the heavy rain to the
house. He returned in less than a minute. "Bring Kris inside where it's
warmer. Copter's on its way."

Angie looked a lot like Kristen -- pale, barely breathing, unconscious. The
sheriff had wrapped her in blankets and put her on the couch, a plastic bag
holding at least a dozen pill bottles laying beside her. He looked up at
Mark as he carried Kristen inside. "Apparently her husband left her and she
swallowed half the medicine cabinet. The bottles were still on the table."

Mark fought to contain the sick terror that welled in his throat as he
cradled Kristen to his chest. "Damn. Do you think we're in time?"

The sheriff shook his head. "I don't know. They'll bring a respirator on
the copter. I don't know anything about medicine. Shit." He sighed. "How's
your little wife?"

Mark looked down at her worriedly. "Her temperature's dropped too far.
She's cold as ice. I'm worried."

"Fuck." He looked at Mark with sympathy. "Looks like it's a damned good
thing the copter's on its way. They're fast. In fact..." He cocked his
head, then nodded. "I hear 'em. Get the door, Steve."

The EMTs took over rapidly and efficiently, two of them getting Angie onto
a stretcher and sliding a tube down her throat, the other kneeling down by
Mark. "What happened, sir?"

"I don't know what's wrong," Mark said. "She won't wake up, and she's ice
cold, and not breathing right."

The tech unwrapped her and felt for a pulse, then frowned and called back
over his shoulder. "Heated wrap and another tube, Jeff. Hurry!" The other
stretcher was brought, and Mark let them take Kristen and strap her to it,
feeling sick and dizzy as he watched them slide the respirator tube down
her throat.

Finally, the two women were lifted and carried out to the waiting
helicopter. "Okay! We've got 'em. Everything's going to be fine. I need a
parent or guardian for the younger lady."

Mark pointed. "He's her father. I'm her husband."

The man looked slightly surprised, but nodded. "Okay, then. One of you can
ride with us, but that's all we've got room for. We're going to hook them
to the respirators, and then we're out of here. Whoever's coming, go get on
the chopper and buckle in."

Mark looked at Steven, who nodded at him. "Go on, Mark. I'll be there as
fast as I can."

The stretchers were on either side of the helicopter, plastic covers
protecting them from wind and rain. The pilot pointed Mark to a seat and
tossed him a pair of headphones and once they were on, he could hear one of
the men relaying info to the hospital as they took off. "Got one known
overdose, bp 80/60, pulse 43. Labels say darvocet 450, soma 12, sonata 20. 
30 count each, fairly new scrips.  Other female is younger, symptoms are
damned similar.  Father says she didn't take anything..." He looked over at
Mark questioningly. 

He shook his head. "Nope. We were asleep. I woke up because of a phone call
and found her like this."

The EMT nodded, and continued, "Husband also says she didn't take anything.
Bp 85/55, pulse 40, her temp is 95.1 and dropping. Both patients intubated,
neither conscious. Out." He flipped a switch on the headset and looked at
Mark. "You're _sure_ she didn't take anything? No drugs, painkillers,
alcohol, anything? Now's not the time to worry about legal trouble."

"Nothing," Mark said, shaking his head again. "I was with her all night. To
the best of my knowledge, she's never taken _anything_ except maybe some
alcohol at parties, and not that much even then. And she hasn't been to a
party in over a month."

"Okay. Has she been sick? Vomiting, fever, headache? Could she have been
bitten by something?"

"Um... no fever," Mark said. "No vomiting, and I couldn't get her to wake
up, so no way to check about a headache. She was feeling fine -- better
than fine, really -- when she went to bed. I guess something could have
bitten her."

"Alright. Does she have any allergies that you know of? Anything else we
need to know? Any chance she's pregnant?"

Mark shook his head, wishing there were some way to tell them the truth.
But nothing he could say would help her. "No allergies I know of. She's on
birth control pills, so not likely pregnant."

"Got it. Just bcp's? No other meds?"

"None."

"Okay. We'll do what we can. Let the techs out and wait til the stretchers
are moving away before you get out. Someone will take you to her as soon as
they can."

#

He felt utterly helpless as he watched the stretcher being wheeled rapidly
away. All he could do was follow them into the ER. A nurse snagged him
before he got too far, though. "You're the husband? Come on, honey. I need
to ask you some questions while she's with the doctors." She pulled him
gently towards a computer terminal, while he craned his head to watch the
frantic seeming activity in the examining area. Both beds were surrounded
by doctors and nurses, and he couldn't even see what was going on.

He turned to the nurse, his face pace. "Is she going to be okay?"

She patted his hand soothingly. "She's in good hands. They'll do everything
they can, I promise."

Since Kristen had been to the hospital before, most of her information was
already in place. It was just a matter of updating the file to reflect
their marriage, and verifying the symptoms he'd provided to the ambulance
team. By the time she was done, things had calmed down. The nurse smiled at
him. "Wait here, and I'll go see what's going on for you, okay hon?"

He nodded nervously, and watched her go over to consult with the doctors.
Angie was already being wheeled away. "Okay," she said, as she returned.
"You can come see her. We're getting a bed ready for her in ICU."

Kristen didn't look any better to his eyes. The tube was still down her
throat, and an IV line ran to the back of her hand. They'd wrapped her in
heated blankets, and hooked her up to a heart monitor and a blood oxygen
monitor, neither of which showed promising numbers.

He closed his eyes, searching for the bad link, frightened by the dimness
of her aura. It was still sucking energy from her, though it had slowed.
She couldn't afford to lose it, though, not even slowly. Not now. He
brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead, then looked around for a
nurse.

"I need to make a call... where can I use my cell phone?"

"In the hall, away from the monitors."

He nodded, giving Kristen one last look, then headed into the hallway and
dialed Kayla.

She answered before the first ring had finished. "I'm here. What's
happening?"

"She's not doing so hot," he said, his voice tight. "Angie _did_ try
suicide. Looks like her husband left her. Kristen need energy _badly_.
Um..." 

"There's no way she can get it, Mark," Kayla said worriedly. "Not if she's
not awake."

"Ah. Actually. I was wondering about that," he said. "Um. The link to Angie
is certainly able to _drain_ energy, even when she was several miles away.
So logically, it should work in reverse, too, right?"

"If it's the link draining it, rather than her burning it to fight the pain
of the link, it _might_," she said.

"So... um." He could only think of one way to help. And she wasn't going to
like it.

"So you want me to fuck someone when Kris might be dying," she said,
flatly. 

He winced. He'd known she wasn't going to like it. "No. I want you to
possibly save her life. If you and Aaron... well, both of you have links.
It might help. It might help Angie, too."

"Aaron's link is to _you_, not her," Kayla pointed out. "But yes. I do
understand, Mark. I don't like it. But it's worth a try. Anything is."

"Angie took a lot of pills, Kayla," he said softly, not trying to hide the
fear in his voice. "Darvocet and Sonata both."

"Was she still breathing when they reached her?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure how much of that was Kristen's energy, though," he
said.

"Doesn't matter," she said, firmly. "If she was still breathing, her heart
was still beating. That gives her a good chance. A real good chance. If
she's okay, Kris should be. I hope."

"Thanks. I'm going to go sit with her. Do what you can, okay, love?"

"Yeah," she said, with a sigh. "I will. You _call_ me when you know, got
it? I'll be at the hospital by morning, anyway. No matter what."

"I will."

#

They were moving her by the time he got back. Angie was already there, on
another bed, hooked up to life support.

They let him in, though they told him he'd have to leave after 20 minutes.
Strict hospital policy. He sat by Kristen's bed, holding her limp hand,
while the admitting nurse talked quietly to the charge nurse. He caught
most of it: "... coma... unknown... temp keeps dropping... no reason. Blood
tests clean... fourteen, no history of illness..."

A nurse did something to Angie in the next bed, and Kristen twitched. Her
hand was ice cold, her fingernails tinted slightly blue. He checked the
bond again, and found that it was just barely draining her now... but it
was almost totally dark, just a black wound across the faint light of her
soul.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on trying to transfer his own energy to
her directly, but he couldn't tell if he was actually accomplishing
anything. She might have felt a touch warmer... but it was impossible for
him to tell for sure.

"Mr. Hasseran?"

He opened his eyes, looking up at a tall, middle-aged man in a doctor's
white coat. "Yes?"

"I'm Dr. Morgan. I'm in charge of your wife's case."

He nodded. "What's wrong with her?"

"I'm afraid we're not sure yet. We're running some tests."

"Is she... is she going to be all right?" Mark asked, hoarsely, wanting
whatever reassurance he could get, even if he knew that there was nothing
they could really do.

The doctor sighed. "I honestly can't say for sure. I'm sorry, I wish I
could. Right now, she's stable. We can keep her temperature up, and we can
keep her breathing. That'll give us a chance to find out what's causing
this, so we can fix it."

Mark nodded, clasping his hands tightly to stop their shaking. "I... see.
She was fine when we went to bed..."

"Well, her blood tests came back clean," the doctor said. "No histamine
action, so this isn't an allergic reaction of some sort. Her blood sugar is
okay, too, though just a tad too low. Her liver and kidneys still seem to
be working right now. If there'd been any sign of drugs in her system, I'd
swear this was an overdose. Except for pumping her stomach, we're having to
treat it like one. I'd like your permission to administer a mild stimulant
to her, to see if we can't get that heart rate up."

Mark nodded. "If you think that's a good idea, go right ahead."

The doctor smiled, and opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment,
Angie went into convulsions, and Kristen's heart monitor suddenly
flat-lined.

The blood drained from Mark's face. "What's happening?"

The doctor ran for the bed, and shouted, "NURSE! Defib team _now_!" The
other nurse grabbed Mark by the arms.

"You'll have to leave, sir," she said, pushing him towards the exit.

"But-- but--"

"I'm sorry, but you have to give them room! Please wait outside."

He stumbled backwards out into the hallway, blindly, not wanting to take
his eyes off of her, but she was surrounded by people, all of them
frantically working. He could hear the high, steady tone of the monitor,
and the jackhammer sound of the defibrillator.

He closed his eyes, reaching for her, trying to push energy to her, and
felt her falling away, out of his reach. He slid to his knees, his head
against the wall, sick with fear.

"She's not responding, doctor... we've lost her."

"Doctor! We need you over here!"

Mark shook his head, horrified. "No," he whispered. "No, no, no..."

The defibrillator stopped, leaving only the shill cry of the heart monitor.


_beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee....._

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If you like this, you might want to take a look at Strange Love, an
e-zine of sf/fantasy/paranormal erotica. The first issue is on sale
now for $2 at:

http://strangelove.pele.cx

Take a look!

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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