LITTLE TRAINEES

A HOLBY/CASUALTY CROSSOVER

A/N: Possibly the silliest story I've written. It was inspired by a comment on Digital Spy where somebody joked that last Tuesday's Holby was a surreal dream of Sacha's set in the Civil War… it turned out they were joking about Little Women being on instead. And that inspired the following. Disclaimer: Fredrik never existed at all in this story, so later chapters might have Raf and Ollie alive and well in them.

"Christmas won't be Christmas without a Pneumothorax" grumbled Jac, lying on the couch in the Trainees' tea point.

Zoe looked at her virtuously.

"You know Duffee doesn't want us to become involved in any big, special operations until we've had more training, and that won't happen while Charlee Fairhead is away fighting for workers' rights on the picket line!"

"What I don't get" said Jac saucily, "Is why he can't come home at night like any other striker. He only lives down the road."

"We NEVER ASK THAT!" said shy little Rashid. He was quite shocked at Jac's daring, but he adored her because she was so feisty and he was just afraid of his own shadow.

"Well, not to worry. It'll be lunch break soon and we've each got five pounds to spend on a super Christmas present for ourselves" Dom Copeland grinned. Because Dom was cute and good-looking he was often spoiled too much for his own good.

"I know what we could do!" Rashid smiled, "We could put our money together and get Duffee and Charlee a super present worth ten pounds each."

"That's so like you, Rashy" smiled Zoe, giving him a hug.

They put their heads together and plotted.

The Trainees lined up and presently in came Duffy, known as Duffee because it sounded soppier. The smiling four led her to a special chair and, sitting her down, presented her with two Tesco vouchers for £10 each.

"For you and Charlee" Jac grinned.

"Oh, you thoughtful darlings! Thank you, thank you!"

Duffee pocketed the vouchers greedily and they hugged her. Dom wished they'd stop hugging because he knew what was coming next. Duffee always brought bacon sandwiches from the market on Fridays and by some wonderful coincidence, Christmas Eve was Friday too!

But Duffee heaved a sigh and declared:

"My trainees, not far from here is a cold and lonely man. He stands in the city centre and he cries mournfully: "Big Issue, Sir? Big Issue, Miss?" all day long. He has no money to spare for food, and his hands are raw and red. My Trainees, will you give him your bacon sandwiches as a Christmas gift?"

Dom wanted to say no, he'd been dreaming of bacon all morning, but sighed and handed over his sandwich. Kind Rashid was halfway downstairs with his own bacon sandwich till Duffee brought him back and told him they must all go together so they could patronize the Big Issue Seller – oops, she meant make the Big Issue Seller smile - as they all marched up to him with the swag.

"I know my Trainees will happily make do with cereal bars and Pringles" simpered Duffee.

Jac, who had eaten all the Pringles, smiled sweetly.

Early that evening the Trainees performed a play written by Jac about the dangers of not observing Health and Safety for the children on Keller ward. The little ones were most impressed – true, one or two burst into frightened tears as Jac showed them how easy it was to cut their limbs off if they weren't careful, but they clapped nicely. Just then in came a lowly porter known as Glen.

"Nurse Duffin's compliments and will the Trainees kindly go to Pulses Café for their supper?"

Up in Pulses, in specially reserved seats, a veritable feast awaited the Trainees.

"Onion Bhajas" sighed Dom.

"Chicken Korma!"

"Jacket spuds with cheese" grinned Jac.

"Don't say 'spuds', it isn't elegant, complained Dom. Jac gave him the death stare.

"Bread and Butter pudding!" Rashid beamed round.

"Who's sent us this?" asked Jac.

"Uncle Keogh's had a mad fit and sent it over" Zoe grinned. Uncle Keogh was a Consultant in the hospital and it was Jac's unhappy task to have to go and read to him every day. His grizzly old dog Dervla didn't help the situation.

"It's a present from the government to try to make us call off the strike" hazarded Zoe.

"It's Father Christmas" said Rashid, who knew full well it couldn't be but who liked to believe dreams came true.

"All wrong" smiled Duffee, joining them, "It was Mr Hanssen from that building over the road. He heard about your giving up your bacon sandwiches and wanted you to have a good dinner tonight."

"Awww!" sighed the Trainees and began to eat the dinner before Duffee got any more ideas about the Big Issue Seller into her head.

Christmas was soon over but there was one more lovely surprise for Zoe and Jac. They were handed an invitation to go to a New Year's party over at Morven Digby's. Morven knew how to throw a good party, and they send a note back immediately saying they'd be delighted to attend.

"Are curling tongs meant to be this hot?" Zoe asked nervously as Jac wound her hair round them enthusiastically. They were in their flat, which they shared with the other trainees, getting ready for Morven's party.

"Of course they are."

"Did anybody get that faulty plug looked after on those tongs…"

BANG! All the lights went out and Zoe gave a terrible scream in the dark. When Rashid and Dom came in with candles, everybody could see two big clumps of Zoe's hair on the floor.

"My life's over! I can't go! I can't go!" she wailed.

Rashid, cuddling one of the ten kittens he'd adopted, said kindly:

"You can wear my new Beanie, Zoe."

At last they were off. Wonderful clever Duffee had not only mended the fuses but had styled Zoe's hair so she looked almost human, sorry, very pretty indeed.

"I thought you weren't wearing those shoes ever again because they hurt so much?" Jac commented.

"Shut it, you, Sweeney Todd" Zoe replied grimly.

Jac displeased her ladylike sister even more by shoving her leg out when she saw the bus approaching. Still, it did stop for them. You could say it ground to a halt.

And soon they were at the party and having fun, with half of the young men there asking Zoe to dance and the other half asking Jac to play darts with them. Jac had to refuse because Zoe could be a bit snooty about girls playing darts, so she sat there miserably watching everybody dancing and wondered what there was to do for laughs in the house. Then, through an open door, she saw a big bookshelf.

"That's for me!" she decided, and strode in. A curly-haired young man was already sitting on the sofa.

"Oh, sorry, I thought this room was empty…"

".. No, please stay. I've given up on the dancing because I'm so clumsy."

"Ah" Jac smiled, "You're Ben Chiltern-Hanssen, Mr Hanssen's adopted son, aren't you?"

"My reputation goes before me" replied Ben sadly.

"Aren't you known as Lofty?"

"Guilty as charged. I can see you're not shy about asking questions so I'll tell you before you do. It's because I was born in a loft on a cold, dark winter night."

"No it isn't" replied Jac cheerfully, "It's because you used to squat in a loft until you got caught."

Lofty grinned and nodded.

Then there was an ear-splitting but very feminine scream:

"My foot!"

"Zoe?"