A/N: Hi everyone! So, this is my first fanfic in the Poldark fandom and I hope you'll like it. I've watched the show and needless to say, I'm totally Romelza obsessed! However, I haven't yet read the books, so I apologise in advance if I get some of the characters' traits wrong. I'm working off what I've picked up from the series, but giving the story my own twist.

Also, super important: English is not my native language. If you see some mistakes (and there will probably be some), try to ignore them, please. I'll edit the story when I have the time. Also, I will probably be mixing British English and American English, sorry about that.

Summary: Modern!AU: Ross Poldark had it all: wealth, friends, and women. But his reckless behaviour had put a strain on his relationship with his father, until he finally drew the line. Filled with anger and remorse, Ross was decided to prove he wasn't a lost cause. But he couldn't have known what the Fate had planned for him. Now, he would have to face new challenges as he tries to piece his life back together. Maybe a certain redhead could help him with that.

Your feedback is much appreciated and will let me know whether I should continue with the story or not.

So, without any further ado, enjoy :3

Caught Between Two Lungs

Who Are You?

It was a cold windy afternoon when Ross Poldark marched out of his father's house, carrying nothing but a duffel bag in his hand and a whole lot of anger in his heart. His coat fluttered behind him like a cape as he dialled a cab, his jaw still clenching every time his father's words came to his mind.

His car keys were left on the dining room table along with his credit cards. The little cash he had on him he held onto so he could pay for the cab, and the plane ticket that would hopefully take him far away from his current life.

Oh, how he wished he could have held his tongue this time. He mightn't have been in this situation had his brain worked for once.

He sat on the backseat and instructed the driver to the airport. He was so distracted that he didn't even put on his seatbelt. The cab driver tried to make small talk, but Ross's head was elsewhere.

Ross kept replaying the fight he had with his father and the harsh words that were exchanged. His breath caught in his throat as he fought not to cry, wiping the invisible tears off his cheek.

To know how much his father was disappointed with him, how utterly ashamed he was of having a son like him burnt him from the inside.

He knew that his life choices had not been great, but he had always excused himself by pointing out that he was young and that he had the right to enjoy life and not worry about boring stuff. He had no interest in their family company, which was the main bone of contention between his father, his uncle, and himself.

Ever since his mother died, his father had been a caring parent, wanting to provide his son with all the love he was deprived of with his mother's death. That, however, proved to be insufficient as Joshua watched his son make rash and unreasonable decisions, ruining every chance he was given. He had been given numerous chances to prove himself, but he chose to throw them all away.

Time after time, one mistake after another, Joshua's hope that his son would learn from his mistakes never faltered. He hoped that Ross would finally decide to end his partying days and join him in their family's company. No such luck.

Wasting his family's fortune on endless amounts of booze, girls, and useless things wasn't such a good idea, Ross knew that already. He wished he could say that his father was wrong, that he wasn't a screwup. However, deep inside he knew that he was; he knew that he wasn't ready to engage in anything serious. Not in his private life, not in their family business. Ross wanted to live, live his life to the fullest.

Joshua was a patient man, but even his patience had its limits. Threatening his son with cutting him off completely never yielded anything, save for Ross's growing resentment and Joshua's rage.

That seemed to be their constant game; his father would threaten to kick him out and Ross would just laugh in his face, knowing that his father would never do such a thing.

After months of arguing and pleading, his father had had enough of Ross's irresponsibility. Finally, in spite of the ache in his heart and his mind telling him not to do, Ross's father kicked him out of their house.

Ross was beyond words. He wished he had apologised, wished he hadn't said all those horrible insult to his own father.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even realise when the lorry hit the cab. Next thing he knew he was thrown out of his seat and being tossed around within the confinements of the metal box.

Faint sounds of sirens, people screaming and shouting was all he could hear as he fought to get up. His legs wouldn't listen, and he could feel the warm liquid sliding down his face. The metal scent of his blood hit his nostrils, as did the smell of smoke and burnt flesh. His brain fought desperately to make sense of what just happened, but the shock was too great to make even one reasonable thought.

Ross's eyelids closed slowly as he lost consciousness.

The annoying beeping sound was what finally brought him to his senses. It was like his already pounding head was being hit with a hammer, repeatedly. He opened his eyes, only to shut them immediately, as he wasn't ready for the sudden brightness that seemed to burn his corneas. Ross then opened his eyes slowly, adjusting to the light.

Scanning his surroundings, he was overwhelmed with a feeling of trepidation. Everything in the room, including the walls was white: the windows, the walls, the small chair and the nightstand next to the bed. Even his covers were white, as was his clothes. All that whiteness made him dizzy.

There were all sorts of machines around him, and a weird metal clip on his finger.

Was he in a hospital? But why?

He wanted to call for someone, a nurse, a doctor, but his dry throat prevented him from uttering a single word. He started coughing, every muscle in his body aching from the exertion.

-"Oh, Ross. You're awake!" – a female voice chimed, but he couldn't see her as he was still coughing. – "Here, here. Drink some water. Oh, you poor thing!" – she offered.

Grabbing the glass of water from her in no gentleman-like manner, he drew it to his lips with shaky hands and drank all of it. He sighed, closing his eyes to savour the moment of cold tasteless liquid pouring down his throat. When he opened his eyes again, he was met by a sight of a woman.

A tall, beautiful brunette. Her hair was tied in what seemed a braid, the tail hanging over her right shoulder. She wore simple black jeans and a long sleeved magenta blouse. Her eyes were warm as she looked at him, a smile spreading across her young face.

Ross frowned, his mind buzzing with questions.

-"Are you all right? How are you feeling?" – the woman asked with clear concern in her voice as she sat on a chair next to his hospital bed.

Ross mouthed to say something when a man rushed into the room.

-"Ross! You're awake! Thank goodness!" – the ginger-haired man exclaimed with a wide grin, coming to stand behind the woman.

-"Oh, Francis, I'm so relieved." – she covered Ross's hand with hers and his gaze immediately dropped to her hand, his frown deepening.

Ross lifted his head and eyed them both with confusion, swallowing the lump in his throat before asking:

-"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

(And, that's it, the first chapter of this fanfic. I am looking forward to your reviews and comments. Please, let me know what you think :D)