Driven_589066

“Got any blankets?” Dylan asked.

The pilot reached into his duffel. “Sure. Here.” He handed over two large, warm blankets, which Dylan and Cat took gratefully, wrapping them around their

drenched and shivering bodies.

“What about her?” the younger medic asked, poking the unconscious secretary. “She hurt?”

“Tranked,” Dylan replied, a smirk twitching the corner of her mouth. “She’ll be okay with us.”

“If you say so,” the medic remarked.

“I do.”

“Alright then. Let’s get him wrapped up and stowed aboard.”

Moments later, the clearing was empty save for the unconscious bimbo and Dylan and Cat. “You doing alright?” Dylan asked, looking down on the bowed

head before her.

Cat looked up and attempted a smile.

It wasn’t very successful.

“I’ll live.” Her eyes darted down to Dylan’s knee which was visible through a part in the blanket covering the tall, lean form. “How ‘bout you?”

Dylan shrugged. “The same.” She allowed a small smile to form, opened the blanket, and spread out her arms. “C’mon, let’s share some body heat.”

Cat looked at her askance for a moment, then laughed. “We haven’t even had our first date yet!”

“Think of this as a pre-dating ritual. Snuggle together, keep warm, works for me.”

Cat laughed again. “Me too.” Stepping forward, she wrapped her blanket around them both from the inside, and Dylan wrapped hers around from the

outside. The rather large disparity in their heights placed Cat’s cheek against a warm, soft nest, and she couldn’t resist snuggling in, breathing her first

contented sigh of the adventure.

“Oh yeah,” she breathed, voice husky as she took in the warmth and scent surrounding her. “This definitely works.”

“No.”

“But, Ms. Lambert….”

“I said ‘no’.” Dylan sighed. “Look, just give me whatever papers I need to sign so that I can leave AMA and I’m outta your hair, alright?”

“Ms. Lambert, I wouldn’t recommend….”

“Of course you wouldn’t. That’s why I’m not asking you to. Just give me the papers already. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

It had taken some doing, but she had finally convinced Mac, via cellphone, to book them on the earliest flight out to LA. Crash or no crash, she wasn’t

about to miss the game.

And that gave her…she checked her watch…exactly one hour and forty five minutes to spring herself from this prison disguised as a hospital and head to

the airport.

Drumming her fingers on the stretcher’s cold metal siderail, she glowered at the physician, who ignored her and fiddled with the X-rays hanging on the

lighted board.

The door that separated Dylan’s small triage area from the rest whooshed open, and Kelly Norton strode through, sporting a cast from fingers to above her

elbow colored a garish purple and black. “No comments from the peanut gallery,” she warned as she strode to Dylan’s stretcher. “How’s tricks?”

The orthopaedic surgeon who was trying to treat Dylan looked over at the doctor, eyes wide. “Kelly Norton?”

“That’s m’name.”

“Dear God! It’s an honor to meet you, Doctor. Your papers and lectures on the latest techniques in bone grafting were some of the best I’ve ever read on

the subject!”

Norton smiled. “I’m glad you found them informative Doctor….” Squinting, she peered at his name badge. “Planton.”

“Mike, please,” the young surgeon said, reaching out and grasping Norton’s uninjured hand between both of his own. “This is really an honor. I’ve been a

fan of your work for years.”

“Um, yes…well….” Norton cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the younger man’s blatant fawning. She looked over at Dylan, who gave her a wicked

smirk. “How’s the knee?”

Dylan scowled. “Your friend there won’t let me out of here until he does an MRI, and radiology doesn’t open until tomorrow morning. If he can manage to

fit me in tomorrow morning. Which is highly in doubt.”

Norton turned back to the doctor, eyebrow raised. The young man threw up his hands. “It’s standard medical practice. Her X-ray doesn’t reveal any

damage, but with the work that’s been done on that knee already, I don’t feel that it’s medically advisable to take any chances. We need that MRI. There’s

no way around it.”

“And her clinical exam?”

“Gross swelling and ecchymosis over the joint. No crepitus, and it seems stable enough, but I’m not comfortable at all with taking a chance based on my

clinical exam alone. Not what that knee and what it’s already been through.”

Norton turned to Dylan. “He’s got a point, my friend.”

“I have my own points,” Dylan retorted. “Point one: We all have a flight to catch in exactly one and a half hours now. Point two: I don’t intend to miss that

flight. Point three: If you don’t give me those papers to sign, I’m gonna get down off this stretcher right now, brace or no brace, and I’m gonna be real

pissed off when I do.”

“I don’t think we wanna know what point four is,” Norton said dryly.

Dylan shot her a look.

Norton sighed. “Alright. Brace her up and release her to my care. I’ll make sure she gets that MRI right after the game tomorrow, if I have to trank her up to