The evening sun hung low in the sky with the most beautiful shade of gold, preparing to make way for what would hopefully be a full moon, to cast dark but equally beautiful shadows over the city streets. Most people are scared of shadows, but, no, not her, she welcomed them.
What does that say about me as a person?
she wondered.
Maybe, I was a serial killer in a past life, if there was such a thing.
The cool evening air carried an olfactory cocktail of gasoline, sweat, blood and…was that pizza?
Clair tightened the straps of her EMT bag as she stepped out of the ambulance.
From what she gathered from the dispatch call, the accident wasn't serious, but protocol and 3 years of experience demanded not just a response, but a full checkup.
She did a quick scan of the scene and there they were, the pizza slices strewn all over the sidewalk, probably the first and only casualty of the accident.
"Dammit!
I should have taken my lunch break when I had the chance" she muttered to herself
A sleek grey Buick SUV – that looked like the cost of its rims alone could buy her car two or three times over – sat in the middle of the intersection, its front bumper slightly beaten in from its collision with a delivery bike whose riding days looked like they should have long been over.
The rider, seething and wriggling in "pain" – and was already being attended to by her partner, Marco – had a bruised knee and a few scrapes on his shin and elbows.
Whatever happened to safety? Luckily he didn't hit his head.
Funny, for a bike messenger with no regard for safety, he seemed to have zero tolerance for pain.
Not to worry though, he was in good hands, Marco had the lightest of touches.
Then there was the other victim – male, average height, spotting a plain grey long-sleeve shirt tucked into a a pair of well-ironed black pants, with black Chelsea boots to match, he looked quite dapper – still observing the damage to his car with one hand in his pocket and the other running through his hair. He seemed more annoyed than injured.
Scan complete, Clair approached him with practiced ease, her seasoned eyes scanned him for any signs of distress.
As she got closer to him, she could see he was taller than she thought, maybe 6'2, with shiny black hair that seemed to catch some of the sun's gold embers.
He had strong, well-sculpted facial features, but what was most striking to her was the way he carried himself— not nonchalant, but unbothered, almost as though the accident was nothing but a trivial inconvenience to his perfect jawline
"Excuse me Sir, but I need to check you for any injuries," she said, as she pulled out a flashlight from her breast pocket.
The man turned his piercing blue eyes on her, and for a moment, she faltered. There was something unreadable in them—something intense.
"I'm fine," he said confidently, his words slow and his voice unfaltering.
"Alright Superman," Clair thought to herself as she arched an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't take your word for it," she said. If you were in that vehicle during the accident, she said, pointing to the car beside him, then I must examine you."
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, but didn't argue further, instead beckoned her to step closer. As she reached out for his wrist to check his pulse, she caught a faint whiff of his cologne—a crisp, woody scent with a little suggestion of spice. Her fingers lingered for just half a second longer than was necessary before she pulled back, disgusted with herself.
"What's your name, sir?"
Brad, he replied.
"Any dizziness? She asked, maintaining a calm professional voice.
"Nausea? Blurred vision?"
"None," he replied while watching her intensely. "I already told you, I'm fine."
She ignored his insistence and continued her exam, as she ran her fingers along his arms checking for any hidden injuries. His skin was warm to her touch.
"Did you hit your head?"
"Just barely"
"Did you have your seatbelt on?"
"I always do"
"Did the Airbags deploy?"
"Nope."
Clair exhaled through her clenched teeth. He seemed fine, but there was something about him that kept her unsettled—could be his calm confidence, or the way his eyes never seemed to leave her face.
"Look," she said, stepping back and folding her arms, more in defense than anything, what exactly was she defending against? she couldn't say. "You may not feel anything right now, but adrenaline does that sometimes, make you feel great one moment only to have you pass out the next."
"I strongly advise you to follow us to a hospital to see a doctor and get a full workup."
He smirked. "Do you worry about all your patients this much?"
She met his gaze squarely this time. "Only when they're being stubborn."
For the first time, his demeanor relaxed a bit, and he let out a small chuckle.
"I appreciate your concern and professionalism."
"But I assure you, I'll be just fine."
"I really must…" She began to retort.
But before she could speak further, his body swayed. His eyes rolled slightly, and then, in the space of a blink, he collapsed, falling forward.
Clair reacted quickly and lunged to catch him before he hit the pavement. He was heavier than he looked but she was able to brace herself to support him, his head resting against her shoulder, and his warm breath fanning her neck, before Marco rushed to her side and they both lowered him gently to the ground.
"Brad!" Someone called out—a bystander, could've been a friend or something.
Clair barely registered the name as she quickly pressed her fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse. It was steady, but his skin had gone pale.
"Dammit," she muttered.
She shifted, cradling him as she reached for her radio. "Dispatch, I have a male, early thirties experiencing momentary loss of consciousness at the scene. The pulse is stable. Transporting to St. Luke's for further treatment."
"Quick reflexes there, Clair. A second late and he'd have cracked his forehead on the pavement" her partner, Marco, said, as he stood up to go bring the stretcher from the ambulance.
Brad slowly opened his eyes, and, oh, how so blue they were, it would be nice to fall in there, Clair's imagination was getting the better of her.
For the briefest of moments, their faces were just a few inches apart. His pupils slightly dilated as he took her in, with his lips parting as though he wanted to speak.
Clair cleared her throat and pulled back, again wondering what was going on with her today.
"I'm glad you're awake"
"You just fainted. I'm afraid we're gonna have to take you to the hospital. No more arguments."
He groaned heavily as he rubbed his temple. "You're going to say you told me so, aren't you?" he asked.
She smirked. "All I can say is I've never seen a man fall from grace as gracefully as you just did."
He tried to laugh but was cut off by another wave of dizziness. Without putting up any more protests, he quietly let them lift him onto the stretcher. As he was being wheeled toward the ambulance, Clair couldn't help but notice his long fingers lightly gripping the blanket they had covered him with.
Something about him felt… different.
She couldn't decide exactly what it was.
It was a few things, everything and nothing, all at once.
As she climbed into the back of the ambulance beside him, she shook the feeling off.
He was just another patient like so many others.
Just another case, same as others before and after him.
That's all.
At least, that's what she told herself.