A/N: Hello Holby City Fans,
Fifty Shades Of Greg is my first attempt at a fic so, be gentle.
As most of you know from twitter, I do have a rather unhealthy obsession with Dr Greg (The beautiful Ed MacLiam). In my eyes, he is gone but most certainly NOT forgotten.
I owe a huge thank you to my two inspirations Michelle (Sassybritchelle). Who kindly offered to be my beta (sorting out my literary carnage) and the wonderful author of No Simple Affair - found in my favourites. Also thank you to Jennifer (Jeffiner1892), who has always been my constant companion throughout my obsession, without judgement. So, this one is for you.
The title I have chosen is "Fifty Shades of Greg" and it bears no resemblance to the book of a similar name. It simply means there is more to Greg than meets the eye, hence the Fifty Shades title. In this story, there is no part present or future that will see him tie Sahira up, although, I have rated this as "M" due to future content in later chapters.
This story does not run with any of the storylines, past or present but some ideas and scenes may be similar.
I do not own anything from Holby City or the BBC. (If I did I would be one happy girlie but alas, No!)
Reviews are most welcome good or bad; I am not easily offended.
You can follow me on twitter DilemmaEmma80. Enjoy.
Chapter One
New Year's Revelations
It was New Year's Eve, and Mr Douglas was already nine hours into his shift at Holby General without proper respite.
He stood alone in the dimly lit locker room wishing he were drunk and disorderly somewhere to forget; forget about the terrible year that he had just endured in many ways.
Old friends from what seemed like a past life dredging up painful memories from his youth, endless mistakes made in his professional life, an unfulfilled personal life but worst of all, the year had thrown his way the harsh realisation that he was undeniably for the first time in his life, in love. In love with someone, he could never deserve nor be able to attain and with that thought firmly embedded in his mind, he decided to slope off for a cigarette to ease his strain a little.
As he exited the main doors, he noticed it was snowing heavily now, so he ran for shelter and hastily lit his cigarette - inhaled deeply and sighed as he exhaled. He reflected on his earlier thoughts and the state of things in his head, wishing he could shake the vivid memory of her lips against his. The few times this had occurred she had willingly, even eagerly reciprocated and on one occasion instigated it, so what game was she playing? That irked him more than anything else, every time he had tried to bring it up, she either blanked him, shouted at him, skirted around the issue and denied anything had happened or used one of her kick in the teeth lines.
"Two kids and a husband, Greg."
He just could not work her out. One minute she was telling him to back off and leave her alone and the next, she was offering him a glimmer of hope with a look, a flirtatious touch, an embrace or a kiss.
"This stops now!" He muttered to himself as he threw the cigarette end onto the road.
One way or another this year was going to be different. If that meant finding a way of saying goodbye to her, he would.
Sahira lay alone in the dark, orange light from the streetlamps outside streaming through the small gaps in the blinds, sleep evading her at every turn.
It had just gone 9:00pm, and although every part of her body ached for sleep, her mind resisted rest. The house was so empty without Rafi and the boys, what had gone wrong? How had it escalated to this?
She thought she had it all, but yet it still did not seem to be enough. Had Rafi meant it when he said he was leaving her?
Sure, they had been slightly distant with each other, and she had not seen or spoken to him since Boxing Day. The day when the massive row had erupted over Henrik and how she seems to pander to him and put his need for her attention above the needs of her husband and kids and as always she justified it with the same well-rehearsed gusto as she always did. She had been on-call all of Boxing Day, what had he expected her to do? It was her job after all.
She had never seen this side to Rafi before. He was so angry and irritated by her but there was something else there too, the love she usually saw in him had left his eyes. He had given up on her, resigned himself to the fact she would never choose between her family and her career because both gave her equal satisfaction. The feeling of achievement, when she operated on patient's inches from death, the adrenaline was addictive. Arriving home to her boys after a long day at work, putting them to bed and kissing them goodnight. There was no greater feeling. Why should she have to choose? She paused on that thought for a moment, the one thing that she had neglected to add into this was Rafi - she loved being a doctor - she loved her kids but did she still love Rafi? There had been no tears or upset. In fact, she had barely reacted at all when he announced that he was leaving her.
Her hand reached for her phone - she needed perspective - an outside opinion without judgement and as she scrolled to Greg's name, remembered how awfully she had treated him lately and wondered if she deserved his friendship, never mind his help.
As her finger lingered over the call button, she found herself increasingly afraid to press it. She knew that she should not keep running to him, burdening him with her problems - especially after the way she had acted towards him but she selfishly knew he would help her no matter what.
Greg glanced at the slow ticking clock on the wall of the staff room trying to muster up enough willpower to finish the mound of paperwork he had accrued.
''9.45pm, only another hour and fifteen minutes to go and I can get the hell out of here, might even make last orders." He sighed to himself.
Just as the thought filled him with some relief, the familiar sound of an incessant beep tugged the feeling away. He ran on to the ward and nearly knocked Jac over, who then informed him of an RTA with two new incoming chest traumas from a drink driving accident.
"Great! Happy New Year Mr Douglas" he mumbled sarcastically to himself as he rolled his eyes and strode off to meet the ambulance already on route.
It was almost ten minutes to midnight when Greg emerged from theatre. After serious effort, they just could not save the 25-year-old male RTA victim.
Jac was still in theatre with the male's sister. He felt heavy at the thought of a family starting out a new year with this amount of grief but in a sense, he also felt lighter that his problems did not compare.
Once again, he found himself alone in the locker room contemplating changing when he heard his watch beep midnight, and then the distant cries of people in the throes of celebration and at that moment felt more aware of just how alone, he was.
Sahira woke up to a new morning unaware of how exactly she had achieved sleep and with an eerie silence filling the space around her; her mind began to engage again but not with the same thoughts as before. She turned over and looked at the bedside clock, 8.30am, a whole ten hours to kill before her shift at the hospital. She once again picked up her phone but this time, she did not hesitate to press dial.
"Hello," the voice on the other end of the phone answered coldly.
"Hi Rafi, Happy New Year."
There was a considerable pause before Rafi answered.
"Is it?" he replied harshly.
"How are the boys?" she asked trying to sound firm.
"Fine, missing you but I doubt they are even noticing the difference!"
"What is that supposed to mean?" she snapped back.
"Well it's not like you are around that much, you're always at work."
Once again, Sahira found herself on the receiving end of the same old argument that had contributed to this whole mess.
"Please Rafi, I don't want to argue, just let me speak to the boys," she implored.
The line fell silent for a moment and in the background, she heard him shout to the boys that their Mummy was on the phone.
Fifteen minutes later, she said her goodbyes and ended the call, her heart just sank, and for the first time in nearly a week, she broke down and once again, her mind turned to Greg.
Greg awoke to an odd view, taking a minute to adjust his eyes to the bright white light of the snowy morning; he realised he was still fully clothed in the same place he last remembered being - the kitchen table surrounded by his laptop and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Propping himself up on his elbows he rubbed his head, feeling slightly nauseated, he rose to his feet slowly knocking over the chair behind him as he staggered over to the sink for a drink of water.
As he put the glass to his lips, he felt a familiar wave of panic sweep through him as the events of his pity party came flooding back to haunt him. Picking up the chair from the floor and sitting back down at the table, he grimaced as he pulled the laptop towards him remembering through his alcohol-fuelled haze what he had done.
I hope that you have enjoyed the first chapter of this epic tale. There will be plenty more to come if you can be patient. I do like a bit of angst and drama, so be prepared. Thank you for reading and if you like it, leave me some feedback.
Emma xoxo