Talk to me, damn it! Leave the numbers, tests, and needles to the others. Just hold my hand.

She started to spiral downward, her head lurching in a nauseating, off-center spin.

Oh, God, I'm going.

"Beta subunit's positive," a female voice called out, echoing through the room as if on a loudspeaker.

She didn't recognize it.

"Definitely got herself pregnant."

Bitch! Jane wanted to scream.

"Why's she still bleeding so much?" one of the residents asked.

"Retained placenta," Thomas said with the forced coolness he used when trying to sound calm and professorial. "We have to do a D and C, clean out her womb…"

Another flash of anger slowed her plunge into darkness, even buoyed her up. She wanted to grab him by what got her pregnant in the first place, and twist. Then she heard a woman's voice from out in the hallway that sounded as welcome as a distant bugle cry heralding the cavalry riding to the rescue.

"Okay, what have you got for me on my last night of call- my God, J.S."

Dr. Graceton came into view above her and leaned in close, grabbing her hand with a reassuring squeeze. "Okay, I need straight talk here," she whispered. "How long since the start of your last cycle?"

"Nearly two months." Her mouth felt full of cotton and didn't let her enunciate properly.

"Are you on any meds?"

"No."

Dr. Graceton leaned closer

"Did you try and abort yourself? Take something like RU-486 from Europe?"

"No, nothing-" She broke off with a cry as her uterus seized into another contraction.

Dr. Graceton frowned. "Sorry, J.S., but I have to ask."

"No, we decided to keep the baby."

"Oh, I see." Her frown deepened. "Then did you take anything by accident?"

"I don't think so."

"Do you use anti-inflammatories?n

"Sometimes, but-"

"Arthrotec or Cytotec?"

She shook her head, recognizing the names of drugs containing misoprostol, an analog of prostaglandin intended to block the ulcer-producing effect of arthritis medication. It also caused the cervix to open. She'd seen a number of women in ER who'd miscarried because they'd made the mistake of taking the pills Janet had just referred to. "No, nothing like that."

Dr. Graceton glanced over at Popovitch. "Any other lab results back?"

He'd just cranked up the bottom of the bed to auto-transfuse her with blood from her legs. The strain around his eyes drained the skin of color and made it seem as if he should lie down and do the same for himself. "Hey, Dr. Popovitch, lighten the mood," Jane told him with as much firmness as she could muster. "You're scaring me."

He looked down at her and must have tried to smile, because the lines at the corners of his eyes shifted slightly. "Sorry, Jane. Hey, I guess I always rely on you for that." He glanced back over to Dr. Graceton. "Biochem's okay. But even without the rest of the results, I can tell you right now her coagulation's off. She's hardly forming any clots."

"Then let's give her fresh frozen plasma," Janet said with an impatient flip of the hand, implying a no-brainer. She referred to blood that had not been separated yet into its individual components and would boost clotting factor as well as red cells.

He fired J.S. a wink. "Already thawing in the microwave, my dear."

His W. C. Fields imitation made her smile. It had always gotten a few chuckles and relaxed everyone as they worked. "That's better," she told him.

Stewart raced up to the table with a printout in his hand. "I got the other results," he said.

They huddled around it as if sharing a newspaper, and threw out the alphabet soup of acronyms used to describe bleeding disorders.

"DIC?" Thomas said.

Oh, God! Jane recognized that one. DIC was a dreaded complication in hemorrhagic shock- the acronym stood for disseminated intravascular coagulopathy and meant that she'd used up all her clotting factors with excessive coagulation throughout her blood vessels, even where she didn't need it. Bottom line, her chance of survival would be fifty-fifty. Plus the treatment had always struck her as desperately insane. They'd give her heparin to slow her clotting even more, in the hope this would spare the few factors she had left and allow them to work at the site of the hemorrhage. Not many of her patients with the same problem had survived. "I'm going to die," she murmured, or had she just thought it?

No one seemed to hear.

Dr. Graceton grabbed the report. "What are you talking about, Thomas? Of course it's not DIC. Only her INR is elevated. Platelets and PTT are fine."

More alphabet soup.

"Yeah, watch what you're saying," Michael added. "You'll frighten our J.S. to death."

"I taught you better than that, Thomas," Stewart piped in, his frizzy eyebrows lifting in indignation.

Thomas acted stunned. "Oh, right," he said. "Stupid call."

They're lying to protect me.

The bing of the microwave sounded, and in seconds the nurses added more maroon IV bags to the ones flowing into her, except these felt warm in her veins from the recent thawing. The rest of her remained cold to the core. She started to slip away again. "I'm going," she cried.

"No, you're not," Janet told her in a firm voice.

But she plummeted into free fall, and her womb seized in another contraction.

The other three moved out of earshot, where they continued to chatter and gesticulate.

"Pressure's down to sixty-five," someone yelled.

Thomas appeared at her side and grabbed her hand. "Hang on, Jane. I love you," he whispered in her ear.

Finally, she thought dazedly.

He dashed from view and returned with a needle to take another blood test.

Jesus. She felt furious at him again.

Janet reappeared back at her side. "We're heading to the OR now!"

Everyone scrambled frantically to pile what they'd need for the trip onto the bed- monitors, oxygen tanks, IV poles.

"Give her an IV shot of phytonadione," Stewart ordered.

Jane knew that stuff- it was another name for vitamin K. In ER they used it to reverse the effects of Coumadin, a drug that thins the blood by interfering with the role vitamin K and other components play in normal clot formation. "But I've never taken Coumadin in my life-"

"Relax," he interrupted. "You were probably born with low prothrombin levels. That mimics a Coumadin overdose on testing, and phytonadione will shore up the effectiveness of the bit you have. People deficient in it often don't find out until a time like this. Do you normally bleed a lot when you cut yourself?"

"I don't know if I'd say that."

"How about your periods? Are they heavy?"

"Sometimes, but-"

"Hi, J.S.," said another familiar voice, putting an end to Deloram's annoying questions. Then a gloved hand, warm even through the latex, grabbed hers.

"Hey, Jimmy," she replied, her own words sounding like a distant echo. "Tell me this isn't a professional call."

His eyes crinkled at the corners. "No, I'm here just as a friend."

"I need a friend."

"Then I'm your guy."

"You're sure, now that I've practically got a scarlet A on my forehead?"

His grip on her hand tightened. "Hey, enough of that. We'll soon be having coffee together as usual."

Just twelve hours ago they'd been sharing a pot of tea in the lunchroom set aside for ER staff.

"And when you're better, I want a match to this." He flicked his earring with a gloved fingertip. "You've no idea what a hit it makes me with the old ladies in Geriatrics."

She tried to grin at him. No one had given her a mask. He might be the last person on earth to see her smile.

Janet leaned in close again. "Okay, here's the score. In the OR I'll do a D and C, and once the plasma kicks in, the bleeding will stop. Bottom line, you're not going to die, and there will be more babies."