I just finished stabilizing an another patient to the OR as I slide my gloves off. I hate that my mind keeping thinking about Michael.

I was a doctor; he was a superstar, probably looking for the next supermodel babe to date.
I walk to the desk next to the board as Miranda answered the walkie-talkie that was for communicating with the dispatch to tell us if a patient is coming here from the EMT or paramedics.

She waves me over, "Hathaway, we have a burn victim coming." I got a pair of gloves as she started write a chart for the incoming patient.

I watched her as her face became pale while she stopped writing. I frown a bit, "What's wrong?" Her lips quiver as the walkie-talkie kept talking,

25 years old. A Michael Jackson. 2nd and 3rd degree burn to the scalp. *pssch* Command you read me?

I grab the walkie-talkie, "Thats not funny, Ramiero. Who's the burn victim coming in?!" He beeps back, "I'm not joking!"

I was interrupted with the double doors of the ER opening by the EMT. I ran to the back, and my eyes widen.

It was Michael.

I shook my head. There was no time to be speechless. He's a patient like everyone else that I have to save. The paramedics pulled him out. His mother and father was by his side as the paramedics gave me his stats. My heart was pounding as we run to the trauma room.

I got up on the table as everyone got ready to lift him from the gurney to the table.

"ON THE COUNT OF THREE, ONE TWO, THREE."

We got him on the table and I turn to the other nurses, "Start him an IV, 100 ccs per hour. Get a CBC, 10g of morphine and dopamine for the pain. Miranda hooked him an IV. I motion to her, "Call Burn Unit." I check for his eye dilation as Heather checked his vitals. He was still alive.

BP is 80/50. Pulse is 120, resps 36.

Good he's breathing well, but slowly. I turn to see his family out the window, crying as they watch his son, their brother, in here. I wasn't going to let him die. He was mumbling words as I took the bandages off to I check out his burn. He had some form of consciousness. It was bad, and I turn to the other nurse, "I need a CT scan for this."

I prayed that there was little to no brain damage.

I glanced at the clock. 10 minutes we've been working on Michael. Once he was stabilized, I yell, "Let's get him to BU!" I took off my gloves as I pull the hospital bed rails up as the nurses take Michael to the Burn Unit.

"Tell BU to page me when he's out of surgery."

As I walked out of the trauma room, I was bombarded by his parents. His mother face was stained from tears as she sobs, hugging me, "Will my baby be okay?!"

Poor thing.

I looked at her and Mr. Jackson, "Well Mr and Mrs Jackson, your son suffered second and third degree burns, I believe he's going to live but..." My voice trail off and Joseph growls at me, "BUT WHAT?!" My eyes widen at him, he was angry, yet hurt. It didn't help that the media was really having a frenzy to know that the famous Michael was in the hospital. I sigh, "Until I get the CT scans, there's a slight possibility that his fire could've severely damaged his brain. They hugged each other as they walk to the elevator to be with their son.

I turn to see Michael's siblings in the waiting room, and I walk over with a sad expression. I was truly heartbroken this happened to him. But why?! Sometimes it's crazy working here, one day you see someone perfectly fine, next day you're operating on them.

"What happened to Michael?!"

His brothers ignored me as LaToya shook her head, "She's a friend guys." They looked at me then explained the situation and I rub my chin, "Hm, it's a possibility that his hair grease ignited the flame. Hair grease is highly flammable." His little sister, Janet, was hugging LaToya as she sobs.

I felt horrible that I couldn't do more to help Michael.

"Hathaway we need you!"

I didn't have time to cry or feeling bad for Michael. I had more patients to attend.

~

Hours came when I was finally off shift and ran to the Burn Unit. I was paged by them that Michael finished surgery with 911. I hope this was a good "911" page. The receptionist looked at me, "Name." I look at her intently, "Jackson, Michael. He was my patient in the ER." I showed her my badge, and she allowed me to walk pass. I looked in the waiting room to see a sleepy Katie in the seat while Joe was looking at him fingers.

I walk over to them, "How's he doing?" Joe looked at me, "He's done surgery, resting. Thank you for keeping tabs." I nod, "Of course." I walk to the doctor who was in charge of the ward, and he smirks, "Hathaway." I grin, "Donaldson."

Sadly, my ex boyfriend.

He hands me the CT scans, and I held it to the light.

Thank God, no brain damage. If he had that fire on his head any longer, it would've been a different story.

I open the door, and saw Michael resting. I glance at the machine as I check his vitals one more time. Of course, he was stabilized, but you just got to always check. He moans slowly as I check his eye dilation, and I set the little flashlight in the pocket of my white coat.

He was so peaceful as he slept. I stood for a while as I watch him sleep. My finger slowly caress his cheekbone as I was mesmerized by how handsome he was. I wanted to kiss lean down and kiss those soft, plump lips he had. I don't know what I've would've done if I couldn't had saved him, it was the only time I was frightened in the ER. Frightened for his life. I never had such a crush on a man in my life.

I grabbed a chair and sat beside him, waiting for those doe eyes to open. Eventually, he squirmed around and opened his eyes, they were cloudy, from all the drugs.

"Dr. M-Ma-Marina?"

I rub my eyes tiredly. It was 3 in the morning and I've been on my feet for 9 hours, but it made me happy to see him up. His soft, melodic voice was a small whisper. I nod, "Yeah, it's me. Do you know your name?"

"Michael....Michael is my name."

"Your parents' name?"

"Katherine and....Joseph Jackson."

Year you were born?

"August 29, 1958."

He slurred all of his answers, but they were all correct. I smile gently as I held his hand that was covered with his sequined glove. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't lose your memory or anything. I'm so happy you're okay." He smiles intently while looking at me, "The sirens went like Wheeedoooowheedooo" I giggle quietly, "Wheedoo?" He nods, "Wheedoo."

He gently squeezes my hand, "Is my.....mother here?" I nod, "Yeah, let me go get her." He shakes his head, squeezing my hand, indicating he didn't want me to go.

"Did you save my life?"

I shook my head, "Not completely. But, you were in my trauma room, and I gave you some drugs to take some of the pain, but the Burn Unit looked at that burn and put some nice stuff on it to help it heal." He looks at me then the ceiling, "Guess you can say I'm 'smoking' hot tonight." I giggle at his little joke. It's funny to see how he made humor out of this horrible situation.

He continues to slurp his words, "Come......closer to me." I raise an eyebrow as I lean over to him, "Hm?"

He leans his face closer to mine, kissing my lips softly.