No prizes for guessing where the inspiration for this came from, you only have to google the title. But anyway, themes of violence and death so don't read if you're sensitive to that sort of thing. This is what my brain comes up with when I've had not much sleep and I'm missing certain fictional characters. So yeah- this was never going to be the best piece of literature but I hope you can see past the spelling/grammar/over-all mistakes and enjoy it!
It's dark, it's late, it's cold and to top it all off it's raining. His wife thinks he's mad for taking these walks. She's one of the most understanding people he knows but yet he's sure that she wouldn't be able to understand his reasons for doing this. He isn't too sure that he knows the reason himself. Every day, whatever the conditions he goes for a walk. In the summer they can be lovely. In the winter they're more than often not.
He thinks back to the moment before he left, a fond smile forming on his face.
"Silly Dada" His son gurgles at him, he smiles in return and pats his little head.
"Has Mummy been telling you to tease me, Harry?" He asks. Of course 'Mummy' isn't the child's real mother; no she's off living the life in France.
"Of course not" His wife responds, faking innocence and hitting him with a tea towel "I'd never do anything like that! Would I Harry?"
"Never" he echoes happily, swinging his feet and mushing his food up with a spoon.
He's bought out of his revive by someone walking in his direction.
"Good night" He offers, tilting his head and stepping to the side to avoid being hit by the Tesco bag they're swinging.
"That'll be hard with this weather" They respond, referring to the freezing temperatures.
"Quite" He agrees hastily and carries on his way.
About half way around his route he hears a moan. It's the sound of someone in pain, his ears have heard many a variation through his years of being a doctor but this one is particularly chilling.
"Hello?" He calls out; unable to locate where the noise is coming from.
"H-here" Comes a shaky reply. He turns around and his eyes fix upon an alley he hadn't noticed earlier. It's close to pitch black in between the grubby walls but he can just make out a female figure slumped against a building, a hand pressed on their stomach. He jogs towards them and kneels down, straining his eyes- trying to see more.
"What happened?" He asks, gently moving the hand that they had pressed on their abdomen to be greeted by a sudden flow of blood. Quickly placing one of his hands to replace the woman's he presses down firmly, waiting for an answer.
The woman nods her head and he looks over to where she's pointing. Something is reflecting in the dark. It's the blade of a knife.
"Okay" He speaks more to himself, trying to gather his thoughts together. "Don't worry" He instructs, knowing that it's probably not the most useful advice "I'll phone an ambulance, you'll be fine"
She whimpers quietly as he talks and a sense of dread washes over him, it's a sound he thinks he recognises. He pulls his phone out with one hand, slightly unnerved. His welcome screen lights up the dark area.
"Joe" The woman breaths, her lips pale and her hair matted with blood and sweat, her drenched clothes sticking to her delicate frame.
"J-Jac!" He stammers, anger overwhelming him "Who did this to you?" He demands. She shakes her head, refusing to say anymore. Applying more pressure to her wound he dials in the number that'd been drilled into every member of the British Nation. As the shrill rings fill the air he kept his eyes locked onto her, she smiles at him but it looks more like a grimace.
"You'll be just fine" He reassures them both, trying to ignore the size of the puddle of blood gathering around her.
"You always were an awful liar" She croaks with a smile full of sadness and pain.
"Well I'm not lying now" He works on trying to sooth her, catching her gaze.
He hears the click of the line connecting and brings his phone to his ear "Yes, hello, I'm with a friend, she's been stabbed" he speaks quickly, the words running into each other in his hurry to get them out of his mouth.
His hand is now completely covered in her blood, it's sticky and the warmth contrast against the temperature. The rain beats down but both of them are way past caring.
He answers the operator's questions briskly, glad at the knowledge that help is on its way. He groaned as he heard his phone's low battery alert. "I'm sorry my-" He started, throwing his free hand down in irritation as the call ended. "–phone's just about to run out" he finished his sentence.
"I-I messed things up" Jac's voice broke the momentary silence.
His attention was now fully turned on her "You don't have to speak" he told her, placing his now useless phone down on the cold, wet ground.
"I wa-want to though. I'm scared" She admits, her voice sound weak. His eyes have now adjusted to the dark and he can see the hurt etched all over her. He can feel his left hand starting to cramp so as quickly as he can he lets the right take over holding her abdomen together.
"What do you want to talk about?" He asks, somehow managing to sound calm despite the riot of emotions inside of him. His eyes see the glistening of a tear on her cheek so he reaches up and brushes it away with his thumb.
"Anything" She gasps before spluttering a laugh "Your hands are going to need a serious clean"
He spared a moment to look down at them; they were now both covered in her blood. He smiles sadly "I frankly couldn't care less at the moment" he tells her honestly.
"That doesn't sound like the Joseph Byrne I knew" she grimaces, her eyes heavy lidded.
"Look at me, Jac" He pleads. He can see the effort it takes her to follow the simple instruction. "That's it" He encourages her, half expecting a cutting remark along the lines of her not being a toddler to be thrown in her direction. A lump forms in his throat when he sees that she can't manage it.
"Everything's going to be just alright" He lies, willing it to be a truth. The puddles filling the alley are now full of diluted blood. Her blood. Keeping the pressure steady he shuffles so he's leaning against the wall she'd slumped herself against. Carefully he moves her so she she's leaning against his chest "I'm here, you'll be fine" he mumbles into her hair, kissing her forehead gently.
Taking a jagged breath she spoke again "This is one hell of a coincidence" She voices her thoughts
"I suppose so" He agrees.
"What type of idiot goes for a walk in this weather?" She asks her breaths now shallow.
"This type apparently" He leans back so his head is touching the damp wall. He tilts his head to side, hoping to hear the sirens of an ambulance speeding towards them. No such luck.
"Why?" She wonders, her voice sounds distant.
"Because it's what I do" he shrugs "I walk every day"
He waits for a reply, maybe she'll tell him it's weird and laugh at him. His heart leaps into his throat as he sees her eyes slide shut.
"Jac?" He calls gently, his free hand sneaking around to locate her pulse. It's weak, weaker than weak. He can feel her heart giving up and it tears him to pieces "Jac!" He begs, moving her so she's lying down on the cold ground, wet with rain and blood. "Come on, please, not now, Jac. You're stronger than this! Come on, come on, come on. Open your eyes for me, Jac. You can do this, hey? "
He sighs in relief as her eyes open in narrow slits, her hair is spread out around her and a half smile tweaks the corner of her lips "I can't and I'm not" she mumbles
"You're the strongest person I know" He whispers to her, the sound of a siren announcing the arrival of an ambulance.
She shakes her head in disagreement, the motion causing her to scrunch up her face in pain. He stokes her cheek and she opens her mouth, her eyes wide and voice shaking "Don't go, please"
"I'm not going anywhere" He promises her, his own voice quavering. "Just a little bit longer, Jac."
The paramedics run over to them, they hover around her- taking over his position. "No!" he shouts as they try to move him out of the way. He'd promised that he'd stay. His teeth are chattering and his whole body's shaking as he's pushed to the side. As he's forced to watch as they try to restart her heart. As they fail.
He rides with her to the hospital, it's a slow journey. The dead are already late so there's no need for speed. He holds her cold hand, squeezing it and wishing that it'd respond.
As they reach the hospital he has to move out of the way as they work on covering her up so they can move her. He ignores the paramedic's concerns and question and goes to sit in Pulses.
Elliot sees him and walks over, putting his hot chocolate down on the table and sitting in the chair opposite.
"Joseph!" He greets him "I didn't know you were coming in! I see you were caught in the rain."
"Mm" He responds, he can't do this right now.
"Are you alright?" The old consultant asks, concerned. "Is that blood on your shirt?"
He looks down to see that his outfit is covered in stains; he closes his eyes before looking back to the caring man. "It's Jac" he announced
"What is? Is she alright?" He quickly inquires
"She's-" he starts, drumming an irregular rhythm into the table and shaking his head. "She was stabbed" he gulps, tears welling in his eyes "and she died. She's dead. Jacqueline Naylor is dead. I watched her die, Elliot!" He stood up quickly, the anger inside of him growing too much "Jac. Is. Dead" He declared in a shout, the last word causing his voice to crack. Collapsing back into the chair he lets his tears run freely down his face, sobs wrecking through his body. The professor stood with his mouth open, shock evident on his face. "I want her back, Elliot. I want her back."
Reviews would be appreciated but who am I to tell you how to run your life? You go do whatever you want because you are an awesome person (probably) and you don't need any one to be telling you what to do.
...Yeah, I told you I was tired.