DESTINED AFFECTION

ELEVEN

Lauren was alone in the small viewing room that was part of the ER's auxiliary x-ray department when Ally opened the door and walked in.

"Hey," Ally greeted her, "how's Mila?"

Startled, Lauren pulled down the film she had been inspecting and turned to face her friend. "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about Camila, and I wanted to find out what was going on." Ally joined her in front of the light box and regarded Lauren quizzically. Her friend looked troubled—more than troubled, distraught. "Laur? What's going on? Is it worse than you thought?"

"I don't think so," Lauren said dully, still not able to comprehend just how bad it really was, "but I'm just getting her squared away."

"Whose chest x-ray was that?"

"Uh..." The green eyed doctor fished around for some excuse and came up short. Her expression must have answered for her.

"Oh my God, was that Camila's?"

Sighing, Lauren put the film back up. "Since you've already seen it, there isn't much point in pretending otherwise." She returned her gaze to the x-ray, seeing what she knew she would see, but continuing to stare at it until she believed it. .

A miniature battery-powered computer was housed in the small plastic case that rested just above the major muscle of Camila's chest. From it, electrical leads coated in silicone were threaded into the subclavian vein beneath her collarbone and directed into her heart. Sensors at the end of those leads sent information to the programmable computer inside the defibrillator, allowing an electrical discharge to regulate Camila's heart rhythm if it became unstable. That's assuming that the defibrillator is functioning properly and sensing her heart rate appropriately. If it isn 't, she could develop a fatal arrhythmia, and die within minutes.

"Is that a pacemaker?" Ally's voice was tight with concern.

Lauren shook her head. "Implantable defibrillator."

"Oh, poor Mila. God, Honor, is she all right?" Ally moved closer, resting a comforting hand on Lauren's back. Are you?

"Her clavicle and humerus look fine. She's got a tremendous amount of soft tissue swelling around the shoulder area, which is to be expected, but—"

"What about her heart?"

Lauren extended a finger, pointing to the cardiac shadow on the chest x-ray. "Heart size is normal. Rate's good. Blood pressure's fine. I'm waiting for an EKG trace right now. So far, there's no evidence of any instability."

Ally tilted her head and stared at the doctor as she recited the litany of facts in a monotone. "Laur? Are you okay?"

"Fine." Lauren continued to stare at the x-ray. Camila's heart looked normal. But it wasn't. She wanted to tear the x-ray down and shred it, as if destroying the evidence would mitigate the truth. She wanted that x-ray to be someone else's, anyone else's, as long as it wasn't Camila's. Her voice was flat, the helpless fury so pervasive it blocked every other emotion. "No one told me, Ally."

"Is she sick?" Ally felt a little sick herself. She liked Camila. She liked her a lot. And she knew that Lauren liked her, too.

"I don't know yet." Finally, Lauren managed to drag her eyes away from the x-ray that mocked her, reminding her that despite all her training—all her skill—she couldn't make a difference when it truly mattered. Not with Terry. Not with Camila. She turned, edging her hip onto the counter that ran below the view boxes, and pushed a hand through her hair. For the first time, she realized she was exhausted. "I haven't had a chance to complete my evaluation. Other than her shoulder, she seems to be all right."