Beyond 
 
Author: Suzanne Moore

Email: suzanne.moore8@verizon.net

Rating: PG-17 (severe Nick angst)

Summary: A Nerf ball and an unseen, silent foe put Nick in peril --
and time seems to be running out.

Author's Notes: A special thanks to friends Abby and her honey-bunny
Dr. Matt. Their expertise in all-thing-medical helped make this story
more realistic. Thanks also to my long-suffering beta-readers,
Romantique and Linda Wilson, who critiqued numerous early drafts of
this story. They teach me more about writing than I can say.

Additional notes appear at the end of Part 3.


~*~
"How are you feeling?" Nick asked Laurie Solt quietly, glancing up
from his desk in the broom closet at LSP. The woman had been laid
low for several days, sick with the hard-hitting stomach virus that
was currently running rampant through Pittsburgh.

"I'm still a little achy and sore, but I'm not contagious anymore.
Thanks for asking," she replied with a warm smile. Laurie stood in
the doorway holding the hand of a grinning, spikey-haired
tyke. "We're ready, Nick," she said, giving the small boy a big
wink. "Can you still drive us over to Elliott's house?"

"Uh - sure," the young lawyer replied with a curt nod. He quickly
closed his briefcase and readied himself to leave.

Nick was accompanying Laurie and his four-year-old client, Elliott,
on a final supervised visit with the tot's mother, June Rogers. The
unfortunate woman and her husband had been in a horrible wreck on the
freeway several months before. Van, June's husband, was killed
instantly. June's injuries had landed her permanently in a
wheelchair.

With no relatives to care for Elliott, Social Services stepped in and
temporarily placed the lad in a group home. Meanwhile, June slowly
learned how to handle her new life on wheels - and her new life
without Van.

Now that the young mother was back home, there was no reason for
Elliott to stay in the foster care system. A custody hearing with
Judge Damsen was scheduled for tomorrow morning. June, Laurie, and
Nick were all quietly confident that the Judge would send the
youngster home immediately after the hearing.

~*~
The cloudy morning had turned into a blissful afternoon, the sun
beckoning winter-weary Pittsburgh residents outside to enjoy its
renewing warmth. June and her guests were certainly not immune to
the lure of the deep blue skies of late spring. They'd started
Elliott's supervised visit on her back porch, sharing a batch of home-
made cookies and glasses of iced tea. The youngster couldn't sit
still and was soon showing off his athletic prowess, first on the
swings and then with his Nerf ball. Laurie and June quickly cajoled
the young lawyer into joining the energetic tot in a frenetic game of
toss-and-catch.

While Elliott could really throw the ball, he was less skilled at
catching it. Of course, Nick was not accustomed to playing toss-and-
catch with a four-year-old, and launched the thing over the child's
head more often than not. The football's unpredictable bounce sent
the tyke into spasms of laughter each time it touched the ground. All
told, Elliott relished chasing the ball just as much as trying to
catch it.

But the youngster refused to retrieve the ball from the crawl space
under the back porch.

"It's too dark under there," a scared and wide-eyed Elliott
announced.

Nick groaned as he watched as the ball sail over Elliott's head once
again and bounce with sublime irregularity beneath the porch. He was
quickly tiring of this maddening game.

*This is the last time I'm doing this.*

Nick leaned over and peered into the space, waiting for his eyes to
adjust to the musty darkness. *Ah, there it is.* The ball had landed
near the back corner. The only way he could reach it was by
squatting down and leaning precariously into the dark, stretching his
arm to its full length. Nick blindly groped, touching broken toys,
lumber scraps, and discarded soda cans before he finally located the
ball with the very tips of his fingers.

He wrapped his fingers around the football, pulled it out, and then
cursed under his breath. Spider webs coated his hand and covered the
sleeve of his suit. Flicking the mess off with his other hand, Nick
knew he'd had enough.

*Okay, that's it. I'm through playing fetch. I have an important
meeting this afternoon, and don`t intend on ruining my suit playing
with a four-year-old.*

"Uh, you really need to have someone remove that debris under the
porch, June. Elliott could get hurt if he suddenly decides to
explore under there."

The young widow quickly agreed, making a mental note to call someone
from Saint Matthew`s. After all, it was her church family who had
donated the materials and volunteers to convert the small ramshackle
home into a handicapped-friendly environment.

Nick wiped off the Nerf ball, slinging the sticky webs toward the
ground. "Your turn to throw for the Steelers, Ms. Solt," he teased,
throwing the ball to Laurie.

Laurie laughed as she caught the ball. "All right, Nick."

He caught the social worker's eye. "Listen, I need to leave, I`ve
got a meeting. . ."

"Thanks for driving us," Laurie interrupted. "We'll take a cab back
to the group home. See you tomorrow at the hearing."

~*~
As he drove back to the Frick Building, Nick absent-mindedly massaged
his right arm. He shook out the kink and quickly got his mind back
on business. Horace Foods, a long-time client of his father's, was
merging with its competitor, and Nick wanted to be thoroughly
prepared for their meeting this afternoon.

A few minutes later, he walked through the doors of Fallin and Fallin
and made his way to his office. After he plopped his briefcase on his
desk, Nick sank into his chair, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

*I feel a bear of a headache coming on.*

He massaged the bridge of his nose with his fingers, hoping to slow
the headache until after the meeting.

Just then there was a knock on the door.

"Yeah?" Nick did not glance up. Instead, he continued to rub the
space between his eyes.

Jake opened the door and stuck his head inside. "You ready for this
afternoon, partner?" he grinned.

"Yeah."

Jake stopped short. He was taken aback by Nick's appearance. "You
feeling okay?" he asked, eyeing the young attorney carefully. He
couldn't help but notice the sheen of perspiration on Nick's face.

"Sure," Nick lied, pulling his chair up to the desk. That motion was
a mistake, because the numb pain in his arm now radiated toward his
shoulder. "I've just been dashing around a lot today," he shrugged.

"Are you sure you're not coming down with that virus?" Jake wondered,
trying to keep the concern out of his voice. "I had it the week
before last. Ugh, it was awful."

"I`m certain, Jake," Nick responded tiredly. "Is the Horace Foods
meeting still at 3:00?" He removed his cell phone from his jacket
pocket and linked it to the charger on his desk.

"Uh-huh."

"Well, then, I'll see you in about an hour." Nick turned his blue-
green eyes toward the files on his desk and mentally dismissed his
associate.

"Okay," Jake nodded, studying his colleague closely before he left.
*Nick rushes around all the time, but I've never seen him look like
this.*

Nick loosened his tie, leaned back in his chair again, and closed his
eyes. His head hurt and his stomach was beginning to feel queasy.

*I cannot get sick today. Not until the Horace Foods meeting is over.
After that, I`ll go home and be as sick as my body wants.*

He decided he'd better visit the men's room to freshen up before
getting his throbbing head back on business. Standing made him dizzy,
but he successfully ignored the feeling. He took a deep breath and
made his way down the hall.

He was glad to have completed the short trip - that now felt like a
very long one - without being stopped by anyone.

He checked the rest room for other visitors. *Good. I'm alone.* Nick
quickly stumbled into the nearest stall and threw up.

Sometimes vomiting can make a person feel better. But it didn't help
Nick. Not this time. He still felt woozy and nauseated. Grateful that
no one had entered the rest room while he was losing his lunch, Nick
held his aching head in his hands and moaned.

He slowly stood and went to the wash basin to freshen up. Splashing
water on his face seemed to help, but he was now anxious for the day
to be over. He had a headache and his chest was tight. Even the
soles of his feet hurt. When he glanced at the reflection in the
mirror, Nick knew he looked like hell. He certainly felt like it.

~*~
*Something is wrong. Something is wrong.* Nick had only been back
at his desk a few minutes when he doubled over and clutched his
stomach. The cramping in his abdomen was sharp and excruciating. It
was hard to breathe now, and knew he needed help.

He stood up, but his wobbly legs were unable to support the weight of
his body. He crumpled to the floor and found himself too weak to
stand. The only thing on Nick's mind now was the pain - the horrible
pain - and trying to breathe.

~*~
Jake and the Horace Food reps were waiting for Nick to join them in
the conference room. "I'll be right back," Jake told the group,
cursing at Nick under his breath. *Just once I'd like the man to be
on time.*

He peered through the window into Nick`s office. *That's odd. He
knows about the meeting.* Jake expected to see him finishing up a
phone call or gathering the files for the meeting. Instead he saw
his partner's unopened briefcase on his desk - just as it had been an
hour ago - and Nick's empty chair.

Jake walked back to the conference room, unaware that the Nick was
hidden behind his desk, gasping in pain.

~*~
He was on the floor, unable to suck a full breath of air, unable to
reach for his cell phone, unable to yell for help. Pain tortured his
body in repeated waves, and Nick began to panic. How long before
someone would find him? How much worse could the cramping get? How
much could he stand? His face twisted in agony as a new spasm of
torment splintered his body.

~*~
Jake finally gave up waiting and decided to grab the files he needed
from Nick's desk. *I'll just start the meeting alone. Maybe he'll
join us later.* He knocked on the young man's door, in hopes that he
was now in his office.

Nick heard the knock. He wanted to call out for help. But his rapid
breathing made it difficult to form words. He prayed that whoever was
at his door would just come in anyway.

Jake cracked open the door and leaned inside. "Nick?" he called. As
soon as he entered the office he heard a desperate rasping behind the
desk.

"God! Nick!" He found his partner curled into a tight ball, his
flushed face pinched into a monstrous grimace. The young man was
clearly in agony - and in need of medical help.

"What happened?" Jake asked, not expecting an answer. He quickly
removed his coat and covered Nick with it. "I'm - I'm going to get
help." *This is no stomach virus.*

Nick had a hard time focusing on Jake. He was only able to
concentrate on the piercing, ever-present pain - and trying to
breathe.


End Part 1
 
 
 
Beyond - Part 2
 

 ~*~
Nick heard a woman talking softly. "Mr. Fallin, you're at St. Francis
Medical Center. I'm a nurse, and my name is Linda Stephens." She took
a good look at her patient. "Mr. Fallin?"

"Huh," Nick said thickly through the oxygen mask covering his face.
He lie curled on his right side on an emergency room exam table,
clutching his stomach. Trembling and perspiring profusely, his
flushed face was pinched into a tight grimace.

"He's verbally responsive. Blood pressure is elevated; pulse is weak
and rapid. Respiration, shallow." Nick recognized that voice from the
ambulance. "Temperature is normal." The paramedic continued in more
detail, describing the patient's current medical condition.

Hands were quickly removing the remains of Nick's saturated clothing;
his body was slick with perspiration. As his trousers were removed,
he flailed his legs weakly in a futile attempt to kick the agony
away. The cramping in his stomach, chest, and legs was horrible and
unrelenting, as was his headache. *At least my right arm stopped
aching. Just a numbing pain there now.*

The supplemental oxygen seemed to help him breathe easier, but the
young man still felt like he had been sucked into a torturous,
spinning black hole - with no possible way to escape.

"Mr. Fallin, try to stay still. Where are you are experiencing pain?"
the woman asked.

*My whole body hurts. Which part do I say first?* "Chest," he was
finally able to spit out.

Following ER standing orders, the nurse quickly ordered blood work, a
tox screen, and an ECG.

"Does the pain radiate anywhere beyond your chest?"

Nick squeezed his eyes tighter and continued. "My stomach hurts.
Legs, too. Bad, bad. . . headache." He tried to roll over, but a
cold hand stopped him from seeking the illusive position of comfort.

Her voice floated near his ear. "If you move to a different
position, does it help the pain?"

"No."

"What were you doing when the pain began?"

"Sitting. . ." Nick whispered, ". . .at my desk." *Can't you do
something about it besides talk?* A light flashed in his eye as he
tried in vain to roll over again.

"Mr. Fallin, be still," the woman requested patiently, again stopping
Nick`s movement. "Pupils are slightly dilated," she commented to
someone. "Have you taken any drugs? Are you high?"

Nick shook his head, the motion tight. "No." He was horrified. He
knew he was clean, and wanted to explain. He really needed to reveal
his past cocaine use. Or had someone already done that? He was
confused.

Nick was quickly settled into a patient gown so he could be examined
properly. The woman asked him a million other questions about past
medical problems, medications and allergies he might have. He
responded to each one with tense, monosyllabic answers, wishing he
could concentrate on them instead of the pain.

Just then someone new came in - a Dr. Mills - and poked on Nick's
rigid abdomen. He, too, began asking questions, one after another,
but Nick didn't mind. He answered as best he could. He just wanted
somebody - anybody - to stop the torturous pain.

~*~
Burton paced anxiously in the ER's waiting room. He scrubbed the back
of his neck with his hand and fought the urge to go smoke a
cigarette. Checking his watch repeatedly, the minutes passed far too
slowly. *What`s happening to Nicholas?* Burton Fallin felt utterly
helpless.

He shook his head in frustration. After all that had happened - the
arrest, the fines, probation - Nick had finally straightened himself
out, finally gotten off of coke. The community service sentence at
LSP seemed to be doing his son some good. He and Nick had actually
started to make small connections. *Nicholas has such potential. And
now this.*

Had Nick thrown his future away and started with drugs again? Did he
have a bad case of that stomach virus? Or was it something else?

Jake Straka jogged into the waiting room, spied Burton, and rushed to
the elder Fallin's side. "Any news?" he asked anxiously.

"No. I haven't heard a damn thing," Burton responded, sinking into a
worn-out vinyl-covered chair and running his hand down the back of
his head. "He was in a lot of pain on the way over here. That`s all
I know." He held his head in his hands and waited.

~*~
He was nauseated. Very nauseated. Nick felt like all the bad stuff in
the entire world was swirling inside him. *Swirling. Too much
swirling.* Even though he was trying his best not to throw up, his
body did not listen. Dr. Mills was continuing his physical assessment
when Nick lifted a trembling hand and removed the oxygen mask.

"S-sorry," he announced to no one in particular. "I'm going to be
sick -- " He moved to the side of the table and began to heave into a
disposable plastic pan that the woman had quickly grabbed.

"It's all right, Mr. Fallin," she said calmly. "It's okay." Nick
felt her rub his shoulder in small, circular motions.

When he was done, Nick fell back on the table, shaking. Nothing had
changed. He was still in incredible pain, and his head felt like it
was going to explode any minute. He was still breathing heavily, and
still sweating like crazy.

The nurse handed him a tissue. He grapsed it with a trembling hand
and awkwardly jerked it across his mouth, wiping the spittle from his
chin.

"Would you like to rinse out your mouth?" she asked.

Nick shook his head. He just couldn't handle doing that at the moment.

"Did you vomit earlier today?" Dr. Mills asked. His voice washed over
Nick like a tidal wave, pulling him out to sea and pinning him to an
inky ocean floor.

He willed himself to speak. "Yeah," Nick's voice quivered. It was
true. He'd thrown up earlier, remembering that he didn't feel any
better afterward. The dizziness he was experiencing now made the
world swirl around him, much like his insides. He closed his eyes and
rolled to his left side in hopes of making the crazy merry-go-round
he was riding slow down.

Dr. Mills said something about dehydration and treating observable
symptoms. Anti-nausea medications, analgesics, and IV fluids were
ordered.

"Laura, did anyone come with Mr. Fallin in the ambulance?" the doctor
asked.

"I think his father is in the waiting room," the nurse responded
softly.

"Monitor his vitals, and page me if anything changes."

Nick heard the doctor walk away. He remained curled on his left side,
trembling in pain, breathlessly awaiting relief.

~*~
The doctor strode quickly toward Burton and Jake. "Mr. Fallin?" The
physician extended his hand. "I'm Dr. Mills. . ."

"How's Nicholas? How's my son?" Burton asked anxiously, returning
the doctor's handshake.

"We`re getting him stabilized and he's on oxygen to help him breathe.
I've been trying to take his history, and I need some more background
information."

Burton spoke in a low tone before the doctor could continue. "Uh,
listen, you need to know, Nicholas is -- well, he's in recovery. From
cocaine. But he's been off of it for some time. . ."

"Did he backslide today? Do you know?"

"No. He wouldn't do that. Not now. He`s got too much as stake."

Dr. Mills filed that information away, wondering if Burton's response
was just a father's false hope. Then he began to ask other questions
about Nick's health history.

~*~
Nick felt a cool washcloth sweep across his face, easing his agony in
a small way. The sensation of the wet cloth on his skin was
startling. He snapped open his eyes and found himself looking into
the woman's calm, sympathetic face.

The coolness of the water combined with the kindness of her whiskey-
colored eyes was soothing, and helped him relax for a moment. But
only for a moment.

Suddenly, his body tensed as the cycle of torment began again. Nick
found himself struggling against the pain once more. His face froze
into a grimace and he moaned quietly, wondering how much longer he
could stand this agony.

"Shh, Mr. Fallin. We're getting your meds prepared right now," she
said. "You'll feel better soon."

He stayed still long enough to let her remove the oxygen mask and
replace it with a cannula. Then Nick rolled to his right side, his
restless body trembling against the excruciating pain.

Laura checked Nick's vital signs again. She discovered that he had a
fever now, the heat radiating off his skin in fiery waves. She
quietly reached for the phone and paged Dr. Mills.

~*~
Dr. Mills continued to listen to Burton Fallin.

"You know, doctor, when I saw him this morning, he was fine, just
fine," Burton laughed nervously. He shrugged his shoulders
helplessly, shook his head, and glanced at Jake. "Oh, Dr. Mills, this
is one of the partners at our firm, Jake Straka."

Jake nodded at the doctor and briefly described Nick's appearance
earlier in the day. "I found him on the floor holding his stomach and
gasping for breath."

The doctor listened intently, knowing that a timely diagnosis was
needed. His task was to make a reasoned decision about his patient's
treatment. A mistake could mean precious minutes lost for Nicholas
Fallin - whose condition was becoming more worrisome with each tick
of the clock.

"It's not that horrible stomach virus, is it." Jake was making a
statement, not asking a question. He'd had that virus, and knew it
was nothing like what Nick was experiencing.

"No," the doctor replied. "That`s been ruled out."

Dr. Mills turned his attention back to Burton. "Any problems with his
heart?" He was being thorough, going through his mental list of
symptoms, trying to put Nick's medical puzzle together.

*His heart? Oh, God.* "No, I don't think so." Burton glanced at the
doctor with frightened eyes, realizing that there were so many things
he didn't know about his son. His stomach twisted into a tight knot.

"He said he'd vomited earlier today. . ."

"What?!" This was news to Burton. Of course, Nick never shared his
problems with anyone, so he wasn't surprised that his son did not
announce that he was ill today. *Probably thought he'd just make it
through the afternoon.*

"Has he lost weight recently? Complained of fatigue?"

"I don't know, I don't think so. Look, I really haven't noticed
anything unusual," Burton said. He stared vacantly, turning the
doctor`s questions over in his mind. Had Nick lost weight? He
couldn't tell. Was he fatigued? Sure, but that was from running
between two full-time jobs - wasn't it?

"Does he work with toxins or poisons?"

"No. Nicholas is an attorney." Burton nervously scratched the back of
his head and thought of Nick's work at LSP. Alvin Masterson had him
working in that ratty little broom closet. Chemical cleaners were
probably stacked everywhere. Had one of those LSP clients gotten
angry about something and poisoned Nick's coffee?

"Was he at work all day today? Or did he take part of the day off to
do yard work, perhaps? He might have had a reaction to a toxin."

"No, Nick doesn`t really take time off," Jake interjected, glancing
at Burton knowingly. "He spent this morning at Legal Services of
Pittsburgh. Let me find out what he did while he was over there." He
reached for his cell phone and quickly dialed LSP.

Suddenly, the doctor's pager vibrated. He plucked it from his pocket,
took note of the number, and quickly excused himself.

~*~
Dr. Mills entered the small cubicle and stood at the foot of the exam
table, sorting out Nick's history. With his patient's elevated
temperature, he wondered what the young man's blood samples would
reveal.

Glancing at Nick, the doctor suddenly did a double-take, focusing
intently on his eyelids. *They're swelling.* It was a piece of the
puzzle - and a very important one, too.

"Mr. Fallin?" the doctor said urgently, trying to get Nick to
focus. "Were you stung by a bee this afternoon? Exposed to any
poisons?"

Nick opened his puffy eyes into thin slits and stared at the man,
wondering which alternate universe he'd been sucked into -- and how
many more ridiculous questions he'd have to answer.


End Part Two


 
 
Beyond - Part 3
 

~*~
 

He was thirsty, incredibly thirsty. Nick licked his parched lips with
his tongue. Could he speak loud enough to get the doctor's attention
and ask for some water?

*Someone's messing with my arm. Now what?* Nick focused his fuzzy
attention on . . . whoever. It was that woman with the whiskey-
colored eyes. *Laura.* She was sticking something in his left arm.
*Maybe she could bring me some water.*

Somewhere nearby - from beyond the cubicle curtains, perhaps? - he
heard a shocked gasp, followed by a low, guttural moan. *Someone's in
a lot of pain.* Nick pressed his lips together and suddenly realized
those agonizing sounds were coming from his own mouth.

"Say again, Mr. Fallin?" Dr. Mills asked efficiently. For some reason
the doctor was carefully examining Nick's feet and legs. "Did you
have a run-in with an insect today? I`m checking you for bites."

"W-water," Nick rasped in a low tone between breaths, flicking his
eyes first at Dr. Mills and then at Laura.

He watched the nurse adjust the drip on the IV she had just set up.
She then moistened a cloth and gently pressed it to the young man's
lips. She leaned close and spoke to him calmly. "You're on fluids
now."

*Fluids?* He wanted to scream, `To hell with fluids, bring me a
bottle of water!' But it was hard to be demanding at this point.
Besides, the room refused to stay still. He squeezed his eyes closed
again, trying to control the spinning, the pain, the nausea. He
didn't want to throw up again. *Not again.*

*Ugh. Vomiting.* He'd done it again just a couple of minutes ago, but
it didn't help. He was still suffering, still desperate for air. . .
and now he could add `thirsty' to his list of woes.

~*~
The elder Fallin was jumpy. He checked his watch for the umpteenth
time and sighed in frustration. *What's taking so long?* He ran his
hand down the back of his head, concerned about the things that Dr.
Mills mentioned. Heart problems, fatigue, weight loss. *What in the
world is going on, Nicholas?*

Jake hung up from his conversation with Alvin Masterson and glanced
at Burton. "Nick took a woman named Laurie Solt and a little boy on a
supervised home visit," he reported. "When he left LSP this afternoon
he was healthy."

"Laurie Solt? Oh, I`ve met her," Burton said. He rubbed his face with
his hands as the rest of Jake's information pierced his thick fog of
worry. "A home visit, you say? Why would Nicholas go on a home
visit?"

"I don't know, but I'm about to find out," Jake replied, dialing the
phone again. "Masterson gave me Ms. Solt's cell number."

A horrible idea wiggled into Burton's thoughts. "Do you think
Nicholas caught something during that home visit?"

"Ms.Solt and the boy might be sick now, as well." Jake held the
phone to his ear.

"Laurie Solt," answered a pleasant voice on the other end of the line.

"Ms. Solt? My name is Jake Straka. . ."

~*~
Nick was still curled on his right side, still squirming restlessly.
The IV did seem to help, dulling the pain to just below the
bloodcurdling wail that he wanted to make -- but couldn't. He found
if he kept his eyes tightly closed he could concentrate on breathing
and contain the agony. Sort of. But he couldn't seem to settle down,
he couldn't relax. His body insisted on tossing and turning, whether
Nick wanted to or not.

His skin was cool and clammy, and the chills accompanying his fever
had arrived with a vengeance. He'd perspired so much that his gown
clung to him like a layer of wet, green skin. He shivered, desperate
for air, desperate for a drink of water, desperate for the pain to
stop.

Someone was messing with his left arm again. Nick forced open his
eyes to watch as the doctor methodically examined it inside and out.

*Right arm's probably next.* Nick shifted his body again, bending
his right arm at the elbow.

When Dr. Mills glanced at his patient's right arm, his eyes narrowed
and zeroed in on its tender under-side. Just above the wrist was a
small halo lesion, a pale circular area surrounded by a ring of
redness. Inside were two tiny puncture marks.

"Well, look at this," the doctor exclaimed.

"That wasn't there when I undressed him earlier," Laura murmured. "Is
it a bite?"

"Looks like it, but I'm not sure what kind. Call Dr. Sheldon in
toxicology. He's the expert. He'll know."

~*~
Jake slipped his cell phone back in his jacket pocket. "Ms. Solt said
nothing unusual occurred at the home visit. Well, actually, one weird
thing did happen," he reported.

Burton's heart caught in his throat. He looked up expectantly. "What?"

"She said Nick played a game of toss-and-catch with a four-year-old."
Jake couldn't help but chuckle. The thought of Nick playing games
with a small child was so out of whack with his partner's personality
that he would have given anything to see it.

Both men were quiet for a moment, both imagining Nick Fallin playing
ball with a little kid.

Suddenly, Jake's phone rang. He quickly pulled it back out and
answered.

"Mr. Straka? Laurie Solt here. I just thought of something else
that might be helpful. Nick had to reach under a porch to retrieve
Elliott's ball. And there were spider webs covering his jacket
sleeve when he pulled it out."

~*~
A short time later, a new sensation slowly dribbled into Nick's
consciousness. It was different than the pain, and captured his
attention like a cool breeze on a sizzling summer day. It was very
alluring. Like a siren's song, it seemed to promise - *relief?* This
scared Nick. *Is this what it feels like to die?*

He felt someone lingering at his bedside, touching his wrist with
something cold. Nick mumbled unintelligibly and slowly opened his
puffy eyes. He watched as Laura fastened a compress to his wrist.

"You're going to be fine, Mr. Fallin." Dr. Mills announced, joining
Laura at Nick`s bedside. "You are on a slow IV drip - pain
medications and muscle relaxants."

*Pain medications?* Those two words were frightening. Nick steeled
himself and tried to form words, but nothing came out. *Oh, God, I
never told anybody about being in* . . ."Recovery." It was the only
word that sputtered from Nick's lips.

"Yes, you'll recover," the doctor said, misunderstanding what his
exhausted patient was attempting to tell him.

"No," Nick gasped, shocking Dr. Mills with the force of his
voice. "I'm. . .*in recovery*."

"Relax now, Mr. Fallin, it's alright," the doctor responded
reassuringly. "Your father told me that you are in recovery." He
patted Nick on the shoulder gently, appreciating the special effort
the young man had taken to impart this important information.

~*~
"A black widow spider bite? Are you sure?" Burton was aghast. Doctors
Sheldon and Mills were in the waiting room explaining Nick's
situation.

"Your son's symptoms mirror the recognized ones for a bite of that
type," Dr. Sheldon responded.

"God." Burton cringed. "Could he have died?"

"No, he's young and healthy." Dr. Sheldon responded. "The elderly
and very young are more at risk, although I would say your son's bite
was bad enough - one step shy of a Grade 3, severe envenomation. It's
a very painful experience when the female decides to attack, because
the venom is so toxic."

"It must have happened when Nick went on that home visit," Jake
mused. "Ms. Solt said he had spider webs on his sleeve when he
retrieved that ball."

"But she said Nick was fine when he left," Burton shrugged.

"Many times the victim isn't even aware of the attack," said Dr.
Sheldon. "I suspect that's what happened in your son's case. The
symptoms don't show up until later."

"You mean the sweating and the chest pain? I thought he was having a
heart attack," the elder Fallin said nervously.

"Spider bites are often misdiagnosed," answered Dr. Sheldon. "The
symptoms mimic a host of ailments, from heart problems to
peritonitis. Fortunately, the treatment of the individual symptoms is
usually all that`s needed."

"Well, then, how do you know it was a black widow bite?"

"Of course, we don't have absolute proof," Dr. Mills jumped
in. "Unless the spider is brought into the hospital with the victim,
all we have is the evidence that supports the *likelihood* of a black
widow spider bite: the symptoms and the bite itself. We're just very
lucky to have a toxicologist like Dr. Sheldon on staff. He knows his
stuff. When the bite finally appeared - and it can take up to six
hours for it to become visible - he recognized it immediately."

"I can't believe those things live in Pittsburgh!" Jake exclaimed.

"Oh, yes, they live all over Pennsylvania." Dr. Sheldon said.

Burton Fallin rubbed his forehead and heaved a sigh of relief. "What
happens now?"

"I'm admitting him - he'll be here for a couple of days, receiving
medications to help relax his muscles and reduce the pain," said Dr.
Mills. "We'll see how he progresses. The symptoms usually disappear
after three days, but it will take about three weeks for him to
regain his energy."

"Three *weeks*?" That was a long time for someone like Nicholas to be
way-laid.

"Meanwhile, we do need to find out where he encountered that spider.
I don't want anyone else to endure what your son is going through."

"Oh, Jake can help you with that." Burton glanced at the young man
who had stayed by his side through this ordeal, and gave him a pat on
the shoulder. He turned his attention back to the doctor. "When can I
see Nicholas?"

"In a few minutes."

~*~
He was beginning to feel the medications work. The sweet,
intoxicating gift of relaxation was sweeping over his body. The
cramping was lessening and his respiration was slowly easing into a
restful rhythm.

Nick felt something cold touch his lips. Laura asked softly, "Would
you like an ice chip?"

*Ice.* He nodded gratefully and took it in his mouth, enjoying the
intense, frozen treasure. It melted slowly, moving in delicate, fresh
patterns his mind was grateful to follow. *When I sit up, I'm going
to drink two gallons of water.* But right now Nick just wanted to
lay there and enjoy this simple, wonderful gift.

~*~
A few minutes later, Burton was led into Nick's cubicle. "The
medications are just kicking in," Laura said with a small smile.

Nick was lying in a heap, wearing a new - and wonderfully dry -
patient gown. His reddish-blonde curls were damp, as if he'd just
hopped out of the shower. The sheen of perspiration on his skin
glistened in the harsh light of the exam room. The spider bite was
toxic all right, as evidenced by the swollen eyes, the grim face, and
Nick's dry, cracked lips.

The elder Fallin hurried to his son's side, trying to contain the
tears stinging his eyes. He reshuffled his face into a calm mask and
brushed the tell-tale wetness from his cheeks.

"I'm here, son," he said simply, studying Nick's exhausted face with
worried eyes. He sandwiched his son's left hand between his own hands.

Nick heard Burton's voice - somewhere beyond the outer edges of his
consciousness. He couldn't respond. He was far too medicated to talk.
Instead, Nick used his final ounce of energy to squeeze his father's
hand. Then, he relaxed completely and fell into a deep, dreamless
sleep.

~Fin~

Additional Notes: In doing research for this story, I discovered that
80% of serious spider bites are misdiagnosed because the symptoms are
confusingly similar to appendicitis, ulcers, peritonitis, and a host
of other illnesses. The problem? The offending spider is not
recovered and taken to the hospital for positive identification,
leaving doctors with a mystery -- until the bite appears. The
symptoms of a black widow spider bite may include headaches,
difficulty breathing, profuse perspiration and salavation, excessive
thirst, fever, restlessness, intense cramping of the abdomen, chest,
legs, trembling, etc. just as I represented in this story.

I must thank one of my real life editors, Leanne Stratton, for asking
me to write about spider webs for the October/November `03 issue of
Kindergarten Mailbox Magazine. I would have never thought about
writing a Nicfic about spiders on my own! (And yes, black widow
spiders really do live in Pennsylvania.)