Chris was terrified. Throughout his career he’d faced down syringe-brandishing junkies and gun-wielding scumbags and would happily do so again rather than tackle what was to come.
As he stepped into the elevator at the GFU building and pushed the button for the floor to Reilly’s office, all manner of horrific possibilities were going through his mind.
A week before, after the Darcy takedown, Chris had woken up in St Vincent’s ER to see the concerned face of Kennedy sitting beside him.
‘What the hell happened, mate?’ his partner asked, his face uncommonly solemn. ‘Something’s been going on with you lately, and I think we both know you completely bottled it back there.’ He took a deep breath. ‘The question is – why? I covered for you this time with O’Brien, but if there’s going to be next time...’
‘Pete, I’m sorry; I’m not sure myself what happened. I was feeling faint and...I must have blacked out or something.’ While Chris’s brain still felt fuzzy, he was alert enough to know that back at the farmhouse, he had been rendered completely immobile not because of any moral dilemma regarding the rescue of Ricky Webb but because his pain-wracked limbs had quite literally failed him. ‘I’ve been having a few niggles here and there lately, but I’m sure this place will sort me out in no time,’ he reassured Kennedy and much to his relief, he seemed content to leave it at that, but something in the other man’s eyes told Chris he wasn’t quite convinced.
However, it turned out the medics at the hospital were stumped as to the root cause of Chris’s blackout, and he was subjected to a battery of scans and tests, until eventually the worst of the pain subsided, and he was sent home, none the wiser.The enforced medical leave meant he’d done little else this past week but fret about his condition and how it might impact not only his job, but his life. The problem was he wasn’t sure how next to tackle the issue, not while he remained in the dark about what was happening to him. And if the hospital couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him, then who the hell could?
Chris was beginning to descend into despair when first thing this morning out of the blue, Reilly had called him from the GFU lab and asked him to come in and see her.
‘I’m pretty sure I’ve figured what’s wrong with you,’ was all she said, refusing to reveal anything further until he agreed to visit the lab in person.
Now, as he knocked lightly at the door to her office, he wondered what on earth he was about to face.
‘Hey there, come on in,’ Reilly said, her typically calm demeanour once again betraying nothing.
‘You said you think you know what’s wrong?’ Chris urged, a little curter than he’d intended before adding lightly. ‘Go on then, put me out of my misery.’
‘Well...’ She stood up and came around the front of her desk. ‘I was thinking about the last time you suffered badly with this thing – remember throughout the whole Jess... episode?’ While her tone was even, Chris could still hear it waver slightly when she mentioned her sister’s name.
He nodded.
‘Well, it always seemed strange to me, and not entirely coincidental that the whole thing seemed to stop right after you got shot. Remember all that blood you lost?’
‘Yeah, but what’s this got to do with anything?’ he asked unable to restrain his impatience.
‘Those tests we took before...I looked through the results, specifically the transferrin saturation test Julius did, and compared them with a more recent sample.’
She met his questioning gaze head on. ‘Don’t ask, just trust me OK?’
He exhaled heavily, not sure what the hell was coming.
Reilly continued. ‘Last year your transferrin was almost just above sixty percent. Now it’s eighty-five.’
He blinked, thoroughly confused. ‘Reilly, as Kennedy might say, just give me the meat and spuds version...’
‘OK, high transferrin is often indicative of a blood condition that can only be identified via a genetic scan. It’s possibly why the hospital didn’t pick up on it. You’d need to be aware of the condition to identify the anomaly, and many medical staff aren’t.’
Chris felt a knot form in his stomach. Genetic scan...blood condition...what in God’s name....? His heart thumped heavily in his chest.
‘Have you ever heard of haemochromatosis?’ she asked then.
‘Haemo ...what?’
‘Haemochromatosis. Like I said, it’s a genetic condition, which basically means that your body is absorbing too much iron, and prone to storing it in the blood. It might be hard to pinpoint, but is actually a pretty common condition – especially amongst people of Celtic origin.’
‘Too much iron?’ If anything, he was thinking he had to be deficient.
‘Yes, the opposite of anaemia.’
Chris frowned, unsure what to think. ‘I take it that’s not good?’
‘It depends. If it goes untreated for too long then the iron can build up in your organs – and that’s very bad. It’s why you were in so much pain last year, and over the last few weeks. The excess builds up over time, and affects your muscles and limbs.’
‘So how do you treat the damn thing?’ he asked, not at all certain he wanted to hear the response. ‘Is there any treatment?’
She moved back around the desk to her computer. ‘I saved this for you earlier.’ She turned the screen so Chris could see for himself.
‘Treatments,’ he read, scanning the page quickly as he heart rate gradually began evening out. He struggled with the next term. ‘Therapeutic phlebotomy... what the heck is that?’
Reilly looked at him. ‘Vampirism – of sorts.’
‘What?’
‘You’ll need to have blood exaguined on a regular basis,’ she explained. ‘It offloads some of the iron in your system so as to stabilize the condition. It’s why you were fine for so long after the shooting.’
Of course, he’d lost so much blood... Suddenly things started to fall into place.
‘Chris, this might be treatable but isn’t something you can just ignore people have died from it. And,’ she added meaningfully, ‘you need to let O’Brien know. Kennedy too.’
He shook his head, suddenly terrified. ‘No way, I can’t do that. What if ’
‘What if you freeze again at another crucial moment?’ she argued. ‘We can’t have that happening, not when there are lives at stake.’ She gave him a defiant look. ‘I’m sorry, but if you don’t tell them then I will.’
‘OK, OK, I know what you’re saying, but I just found about this. At least give me a little time to see a doctor, find out how bad it is.’
‘Fine.’ Reilly’s tone was brisk. ‘But do it soon. It’s gone untreated for so long now there may well be some form of organ damage or something even more serious. Either way, things won’t be all plain sailing.’
OK, Chris thought exhaling. Maybe he did have a problem, but at least it seemed treatable.
Ttake this stuff home with you, and read up on it for the moment. You’ll need to keep a close eye on your diet.’ Reilly keyed in a command, and her printer came to life, spewing out several sheets. She eyed him knowingly. ‘And lay off on the drinking too.’
Chris looked away, ashamed. So she had noticed. He should have known better than to think the reason for his absence on the day of Melanie’s wedding would have gone unnoticed, especially to Reilly.
He couldn’t help it; that day the tremors were particularly bad, and anyway, all he’d wanted to do was get shit-faced, to help shut out the physical pain, drive away the memories and, in all honesty, the raw hurt that someone else and not him, had finally managed to rescue Melanie from her demons.
Chris wasn’t proud of it, but at the time the drink had been a balm to him in more ways than one.
He scanned briefly through the material she had given him. While he was relieved that the question mark hanging over his condition had finally been answered, there seemed to be an awful lot of reading for something supposedly so straightforward....
Maybe it was a much bigger deal that he’d thought?
As to whether it would hold him back in the job remained to be seen, but Chris figured he’d be fine.
After all, a little joint pain never killed anyone, did it?
‘Well, thank you for getting to the bottom of it,’ he told Reilly. ‘I don’t know what to say ...’
She looked up and flashed him a smile that made his stomach do a somersault.
‘Hey, you know me,’ she winked. ‘Always looking for a puzzle to solve.’