All Souls' Day - 1. Chapter 1

I had just gone on shift when word came through that major traumas were on the way. The ER braced for the seven car pile-up on the interstate caused by an overturned rig. Reports that were coming in stated that it was bad, very bad; there had been casualties on scene, and I was damn glad I wasn't doing the views.

I gathered my team, getting ready for the fight that would soon consume my ER. Quickly I ran through my personal mental checklist, determined to save as many of the patients who came in as I could.

Death was a necessary part of life, and I understood this. People were born, lived their life, and then died. What I found insulting was when life was taken from a person before they were through using that life. Being an ER doctor took a special type of person.

"Dr. Grey! We're ready... ETA five minutes," my head nurse, Cindy, announced.

Taking a deep breath, I counted to ten and then released it. This calmed my nerves, and stopped the jitters in my hands. I needed to bounce up and down on the balls of my feet a few times, really, but it made some of the nurses with less experience uncomfortable. Cindy wouldn't have minded.

My nickname was Grey. My actual name was Jamie Greyson, but everyone called me Grey. I'm five feet, ten inches and weigh one hundred fifty pounds. My shoulder length hair is jet black. I have been told in certain light it had blue highlights. My eyes are a light sky blue, and are slightly slanted. I'm thirty-two years old.

Our trauma triage nurse came flying around the corner, scrubs already on, clipboards stacked in her arms like metal coffins. She locked eyes with me.

"Male, 52, African-American, possible fractured pelvis, possible GI bleed, lower body with general crushing damage."

"Ortho and Andersen, Bay 2," I said, without even thinking.

She passed the top chart off to my second team who went dashing as the sirens got closer.

"Female, 25, Caucasian, arrested en route, collapsed lung, possible chest wall damage, multiple fractures."

The ambulances screamed to a stop. "She's mine," I said, and Cindy held out her hand for the silver chart. The bay doors hissed open and like a wave, the damaged came flooding in complete with sound, smell and fury.

Please... please, Angel of Death, stay out of my ER, damn it.

Many, many hours later I stood over the body of a ten-year-old child. Her poor body had just been too damaged; there was nothing I could have done to change the outcome. That never stopped me from fighting until the end.

As I sweated and heaved, my shoulders aching as I continued the useless chest compressions on the child's broken ribcage knowing I couldn't save her, knowing she had slipped beyond that place where I could pull her back, I could've sworn I saw a slight fluttering in the air, just past my streaked, grimy face.

I'd barked at Cindy for a wipe and to get the fucking lamp out of my way, thinking one of the idiot interns had brought a UV up to look at something on the girl's head; she had so many injuries.

As usual Cindy swiped a cool, damp linen cloth over my forehead quickly and professionally, and never said a word about my profanity at the table. Afterward though, when I'd called time of death and was preparing to go out and tell the father that it was over, Cindy stopped me with a gentle hand.

"Grey," she said, her voice low in the room as the other nurses disconnected tubes, lines, and leads from the body.

Already I'd detached from my patient and was calling her "the body" but I had to, or I wouldn't be able to face the father, whose wife was still upstairs on James's table with her back torn open as he tried to save her remaining kidney.

"Sorry Cindy," I began, ready to apologize, always contrite now that the stress was mostly passed.

"No, it's okay," she said. "I just wanted to know... What lamp were you talking about?"

I stared at her.

"The UV what's-his-dick pulled up to her head while I was still trying to get her back," I said, deliberately not remembering Daniel's name, because the little fucker was lazy, and didn't try hard enough, and besides, he was cute when he fell asleep in the ambulance bay.

"Grey, there was no lamp," Cindy said, her large brown eyes holding mine steadily.

This had happened before—me seeing things above the heads of patients, just before they slipped away. I flicked my eyes to the door, to where a father waited, desperate to hear that I'd made a miracle happen tonight, and I was going to destroy his entire world instead. I sighed.

"Yeah. Okay. I'm tired, Cin." She nodded, and let go of my arm. I headed for the door.

Fuck you, Death. Fuck you for making me do this.

I wanted to believe in heaven and hell, so that I could believe that there was something waiting for us after we struggled through this life. Losing patients always affected me, and made me fight harder against Death. I'd no sooner finished my gruesome task that another code blue page sounded in the chute.

Damn it all to hell.

The Angel of Death had already claimed too many today. He'd have to fight me personally for any more, and I didn't think he had the balls for it. We'd find out, though, I thought, grabbing my stethoscope.

I ended up staying two hours past the end of my shift mainly to check on a female, twenty-five, Caucasian. She had been one of the first in. The patient parked in trauma bay five direct from chute and opened by me to drain a punctured chest cavity; collapsed lung reinflated manually; patient went into V-fib at 22:14 and was resuscitated with 300 jules on small paddle and epi by injection at 22:20.

Djorak closed, 1500mgs ampicillian administered for infectious controls. Patient was resting comfortably in the Cardiac Wing. I felt like Death had been cheated, a small victory in our private war.

I showered at the hospital and changed into my street clothes. Several of my colleagues were meeting at a bar near the hospital, and I had been invited. The day had been like an emotional roller coaster, one long continuous looping and corkscrewing scream-fest rocketing up and down between the heights of life and the valleys of death.

"You're coming, right?" Cindy asked. "Please do; you need to unwind."

"Sure, why not." I was tired, but was off for the next two days. "It's not like I have anyone waiting for me at home."

Everyone at work knew I was gay. I had been out for several years now. My boyfriend and I had broken up six months earlier. According to him my job was my life, and was more important than he was. He didn't understand how stressful and tense working in the ER could be... that I was literally fighting a battle, that some nights I had to choose who lived and who died, and that I had to live with those decisions haunting me long after I made them.

He couldn't understand my need to question what more I might have done, my need to go over old case files, or my desire to stay late and make certain my staff went home level-headed, regardless of how scattered I might feel.

I resented him for not just being there for me when I got home, for not just offering to hold me, or offering to fuck me into oblivion, which would've been the least he could've done. I wasn't upset when he finally left me.

"You're fixated on death, Grey!" My ex shouted in my face. That was the last thing he said as he walked out the door, and out of my life.

I parked my car and stared at the bar. A shiver of awareness crawled up my spine and made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"What the hell?" I trembled as I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel.

The darkness of the bar soothed my mind as I strode over to where everyone was gathered. I sighed quietly as I drew closer. The one person I was hoping wouldn't be there was sitting at the table. Dr. Edward James, Chief of Staff, was someone I detested with a passion.

A month ago Edward caught me in a supply closet and put his hands all over me. The hospital's medical director, Dr. Marshall Allen, had just had a meeting with Dr. James about the hospital's budget, and Dr. James was furious with the planned cuts. My day had started off rotten when I found that one of my tires were flat, then got to work and found out about the budget cuts, so we were both in piss-poor moods, but that really wasn't an excuse for what happened.

I was in the supply closet looking for medium-sized gloves when Edward came in and closed the door. I assumed he wanted to grouse about the cuts, but instead, he grabbed me, spun me around, and slammed me up against the door. His hand twisted in my hair, and his lips savaged mine. I didn't stop to think, just reacted to his hips grinding against me as my body screamed out of control.

The initial rush of, oh goddamn, hands finally on my body, a hot mouth on mine, tongues... Yeah, it was good, I'm a guy, but immediately after that my head kicked in. What the fuck am I doing? I am not getting involved with my superior. Hell, I don't even like this asshole! It took some doing to get him off of me, because he wasn't convinced that I really meant no. Ever since then he had gone out of his way to make me miserable.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late," I said, taking a chair far away from Edward.

A waitress appeared at the table to take my order.

"He'll have crown and coke," Edward said, ballsy enough to order for me with a sneer and a smirk.

"Make that hot chocolate, plenty of whipped cream and marshmallows if you've got'em," I said, grabbing the waitress by her sleeve before she could leave the table.

"Too good to drink with us, Grey?" Edward asked, his sneer etched deeply into his face.

"Too many DUI cases in the ER," I said. "I don't drink and drive."

I shifted in my seat so that my back was to him, hoping that he'd get the message. Over the next few hours he generally left me alone, only making a few snide comments directed at or about me.

"What a jerk," I said in Cindy's direction. My eyes kept roving over to the main bar.

"Ignore him; he's just trying to get under your skin," Cindy said. "Kind of like you're ignoring me."

"Huh?"

"What’s so fascinating over there?" Cindy noticed my quick glances.

A guy at the bar drew my eyes like gawkers at a fresh accident site. He looked like a biker with his thick, long blond hair and heavily muscled physique. His black corded sweater was shoved up past his elbows to show off a massive tattoo of a skull bearing a perfectly divine set of wings.

Heavy, muscular thighs sheathed in torn, stone-washed jeans made my mouth water disturbingly, and all I could think about was whether or not I'd been a good enough boy to deserve to unwrap both of those presents before Christmas.

A curved piece of matte black metal with a spike on the lower end pierced one gorgeously arched, dark blond eyebrow. Several matching rings pierced his ears, and that made me contemplate what other piercings he had that I couldn't see, because I was sure he'd have a few, and they'd be delicious.

A thick silver chain circled his neck, the links glittering when the neon from the bar signs caught them, a subtle reminder that guys like him were bad for me, just like alcohol was bad for me.

"I think you have an admirer." Cindy grinned at me.

"Not my type," I lied. "Too big, too pierced, too tattooed."

"Maybe you need to try a new type, sweetie." Cindy swatted my arm.

His eyes were as black as night, which was odd with his light blond hair. On the back of his chair was a black leather jacket with chains on it. Every time I glanced his way, he was staring intently at me. I didn't usually date big guys, but my gaze kept zooming back to inked flesh, rippling muscles, and the fantasy of what jewelry I might discover under his clothes.

"Uh yeah, he's a little intimidating." I tore my eyes away from him. "Not someone I'd want to meet in a dark alley."

I paid my tab and headed out to my car when a shift in the air warned me that I was not alone. Rough hands grabbed my shoulders, pushing me head first into my car. My head bounced off the side panel as I frantically tried to brace myself. Black lights swirled around me as my vision blurred. Nausea rose up viciously as I was bent forward, my wrists pinned behind me, my chest against the hood.

Possible concussion, Dr. Grey whispered. Nah, really? I whispered back.

"No one tells me no, slut." I knew the voice whispering in my ear.

"Get the fuck off me, Edward!" I struggled against the car. "Have you lost your damn mind?"

"One night. That's all I want," Edward said, demand clear in his voice. "I'll make your entire career, I promise."

"No! Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm promiscuous, you stupid sonuvabitch!" I yelled as loud as I could, hoping to attract some attention.

This earned me another rap against the car hood. I tasted blood as my lip split open. I realized he was dog drunk, and I was in serious trouble. Edward outweighed me by fifty pounds at least. This caveman, macho mentality was why I didn't date big guys.

"I believe he said no, friend," a deep, cold voice said.

I felt Edward tremble against me. Even I shivered at the veiled menace in those words. Craning my head and squinting my eyes I saw the blond biker from the bar. From my vantagepoint spread across the hood of the car, he looked even bigger than he had sitting at the bar. Heaven help me, the guy was fucking huge.

Edward released me and without his body supporting me I suddenly felt weightless. Turning to face the guy he tried to bluff his way out of the situation. He was such an arrogant ass.

"Look here, this doesn't concern—"

That was as far as he got. The biker put his hand on Edward's chest, just above his heart. I heard his painful gasp as the biker touched him. Edward turned pale, broke out in a sweat, and clutched his left arm.

What the hell? The guy barely touched him.

"Believe me when I tell you, you do not want to mess with Grey anymore." He spoke softly, his voice a deep rumble. "Now walk away before you have to be carried away."

I watched as he leaned over and whispered something else to Edward, something I couldn't hear. Edward turned and left without another word. By this time I was half-on-half-off my car and seriously considering sliding on down to the ground.

"What did you say to him?" I asked. "I've never seen him act like that."

"I told him that I have friends in low places, and he didn't want to piss me off."

"Grey! Grey!" Cindy stepped around the biker. "Oh honey, are you all right?"

"Cindy?" I whispered. "Damn, what's going on?"

"Az noticed that Dr. James followed you out to the parking lot." Cindy helped me sit down on the asphalt. "He wanted to make sure you were all right, but thought you might feel better if you saw a familiar face."

I looked up at the hulking guy. While it was true he scared me shitless, it was equally true that I was fiercely attracted to him at the same time. I was upset, but mainly because I was seeing two of him at the moment. I was sure I had a concussion and as tired as I was this promised to be a long night. Az lowered himself down next to me as I stared blankly up at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "He rapped your head pretty hard on the hood."

"Besides the fact that I'm seeing two of everything, I'm fine," I said, knowing it was a weak joke.

"Oh sweetie, you have a concussion, don't you?" Cindy frowned at me. "You can't be alone tonight."

"I'll be fine." I was dead tired, my body ached, my head hurt, and I damn well wanted to sleep in my own bed tonight. "I'll set the alarm to go off every couple of hours."

"No, that won't do." She pulled out her cell. "You'll stay at my house."

"Cindy..."

"Not another word, Grey," Cindy replied.

I loved this woman almost as much as I loved my own mother. She was a married, middle-aged black lady who treated all the single people in the ER as her chicks; she was a mother hen, and she seemed especially protective of me.

She was opinionated, outspoken, and didn't take bull from anyone. She was a force of nature, and like any force she mowed down everything in her path. Smart individuals just got the hell out of her way.

"Yes ma'am." I grinned at her.

"I would like to check on you tomorrow, if you wouldn't mind," Az said.

"Ah, sure. Yeah," I said, surprised.

I gave him my cell number, and he helped me to Cindy's car. The next morning Cindy dropped me off at home on her way to work. Her husband dropped my car off later. Az called me twice that day, just to talk. I ended up taking a week of vacation. We talked every day, and I really enjoyed our conversations. Two days after I went back to work, he asked me out.

* * * *

"What the hell am I doing?" I stared at the incredible mess on my bed.

Shirts were strewn across the bed like striped and button-down debris from the five times I'd changed my mind, and three pairs of jeans laid discarded and crumpled on the floor. Shoes littered the room like chunks of shrapnel having landed haphazardly when I tossed them from my closet, unsatisfied with everything I found. My bedroom looked like a bomb had exploded in it.

I glared at my reflection in the full-length mirror. Somehow I had managed to put on a pair of plaid dress pants and a stripped polo.

"Oh yeah, that's just the look I was going for," I said, rolling my eyes at my reflection.

Nervous much? Dr. Grey whispered in my mind. Shut the hell up! I answered.

I often carried on mental arguments with myself. Usually it only happened in the ER, when I was debating which course of action was best. Apparently, my present situation qualified as an emergency.

My doorbell rang just as I finished getting dressed, for the sixth time. I ended up with a light blue polo, acid-washed jeans, and boots. I left my hair loose. Grabbing my wool coat, I hurried to the door.

"Hey." I answered the door. "You want to come in, or just go?"

Az eased me back from the door, letting himself in. He deliberately closed the door, and gradually moved me up against it.

"Think we need to take care of something first," he said.

Trapped between his warm, heavy body and the door at my back, I watched as he slowly leaned down to kiss me. Nobody was going to interrupt us here, no page was going to go off and pull me away, no code blue was going to demand I go running for the chute and surgery.

No, all I had to focus on in this moment was the scent of him, clean man and leather, and the knowledge that if I asked, Az would do whatever I needed to make all the noise in my head just go away.

My eyelids fluttered closed as his lips touched mine, coaxing me to open for him. Both of his arms came up to rest against the door on either side of my head, imprisoning me in his embrace. His tongue explored my mouth, teasing the roof as he leaned in closer to me.

I moaned quietly as all the blood in my body rushed to my cock. My arms slipped around his waist as he pressed even closer. I rubbed my leg up and down his thigh, panting into his mouth as he broke the kiss. One hand drifted down to cup my ass, squeezing. My head fell back against the door as he nibbled on my throat.

"Mmm." I shuddered as he sucked lightly at the base of my throat.

My hand drifted down to his groin. His shaft was restrained over to the left, and it was huge, just like the rest of him. I traced a finger down the bulge that I could feel throbbing in his jeans.

"Bed or dinner... What do you want, Grey?" he growled, his lips moist against my throat.

"My body is screaming bed, but my mind says dinner," I said, gasping. "I don't want to rush this."

"Dinner it is, babe." He moved back from me and adjusted that huge cock. "I want you to feel safe with me, so no pressure."

He was dressed like always: ripped, faded jeans hugging his ass, a dark, corded sweater showing off his sexy chest, and sharp black boots. His long blond hair was tied back, and he wore his black leather jacket. He looked dark, dangerous, and totally delicious, though I knew that his look was just that, a look.

I'd removed bullets and sewn up the torn and destroyed organs and flesh of real bikers, and after spending a week and a half talking to Az, I knew he wasn't involved in that lifestyle. I couldn't have dated him if he had been, but then, if I'd been the typical asshole, call-me-God physician, he probably wouldn't have asked me out.

That one simple kiss turned my brain to mush and made my heart pound. My whole body was screaming with desire... from a kiss. I didn't want to think about being in bed with him; I'd probably combust on the spot.

The restaurant we went to was on the outskirts of town. It was a little Italian place that had candles at each table, and soft music playing in the background. Again he surprised me; I figured we'd go to a rowdy sports bar or something.

Don't judge a book by its cover, Dr. Grey whispered in my mind. You're right, I answered.

Dinner was soft, sweet, and romantic. I found that I really enjoyed his company. During our conversation, he told me more about the motorcycle repair shop that he owned, and about his passion refurbishing and restoring antique motorcycles.

At the end of the night he walked me to my door and gently kissed me goodnight. He wouldn't leave until he heard me lock the door. I leaned against it, listening as his boots echoed down the stairs. I gently ran a finger across my tingling lips.

Heaven help me, I was falling in love with this guy.

TBC...