Prologue? S20 E61? Not sure what to call this, but hope everyone likes it.
Her eyes stung in the cold January air, the bitter frost turning her breath to dragon smoke. As her boots hit the pavement, the otherwise silent air was punctuated with clipping heels, save for the incessant hum of activity radiating from the hospital. People were gathered outside: stressed doctors for a smoke, anxious relatives for a breath of cold crisp air. Once upon a time she had been one of the doctors, huddling over her lap so that the lighter would catch the cigarette at just the right angle, and then getting paged before she could finish the whole cigarette. She paused in front of the entrance, flicking her long black braid over her shoulder and swishing her coat around her knees before delving into the warmth of the building.
—
Just 24 hours earlier she had been striding through the streets of Kyiv, on her way to pick her daughter up from school. It had been one of her rare and precious days off, one that she was determined to make the most of in terms of spending every possible minute with her teenager, who would soon want nothing to do with her nagging mother. For now, though, Maija was happy to meet her mother from the school gates, and walk through the long cobbled streets to their small townhouse. Frieda contemplated these thoughts, leaning against the strong steel gate that surrounded the school, fencing the occupants in like herds of animals. The children were just beginning to drift out in packs of two or three, and she had to stand up straighter in order to catch a glimpse of her daughter.
She was unmistakably Frieda's, the same eyes, nose, cheekbones. She even had the same long black hair, and the same olive eyes that glinted in the harsh sunlight as she ran up to her Mama, shaking her head and letting her hair ripple across her back. She reached up and gave her mother a peck on the cheek, the silence comfortable and understood between the two women. Frieda hooked her arm around her daughter's, and they set off back home without a word. Maija had never been an overly outgoing child, but the untimely death of her other parent, Penny, had shaken her. She was never the same after that, but neither was Frieda. She went silent practically overnight, speaking only in the confines of her home to a select few people that she could trust. However, their sweet silence was broken by the sound of Frieda's phone ringing in the pocket of her leather coat. She sighed, rustling around in the pocket of her coat until she found the vibrating offender. Without glancing at the caller ID, she pressed it to her ear and clicked to accept.
"Petrenko, who is this?" Frieda held the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she walked, needing to keep her hands warm in the safe pockets of her coat.
"Frieda? It's Elliott." Frieda almost stopped in her tracks when she heard the name. She hadn't spoken to Elliott in years, not since Maija was at least 5.
"Elliott, hello? Is everything alright?" Frieda knew that he wouldn't be calling just to check up on her, they had facebook messaging for that. There must be a serious cause for calling if he was doing it without warning.
"Did you hear about the shooting?" He asked, his voice regretful.
"What?" This time Frieda really did stop in her tracks, halting Maija by the elbow as she threw her mother a reproachful stare. Covering the mouth of the phone, she mouthed 'shooting' as explanation.
"The shooting, at Holby?" Elliott prompted, hoping she had already been informed.
"No, I did not know. We do not get English news over here. Is everyone okay?" She asked, leaning against a frosted lamppost on the high street.
"I need to ask you a favour, Frieda. It's Jac. She needs emergency surgery, her lungs are filling up with fluid. Are you able to do it?" Elliott's question stunned Frieda. What was he's expected to say? If she denied, she was a heartless bitch. If she accepted, she would be forced to leave her life and job in Kyiv, uproot her daughter and fly her off to the place where her Mum died.
"Oh Elliott, I do not know..." Frieda's voice trailed off at the end, hoping that this was a sufficient explanation.
"Frieda, please, you're our last hope! I know you have a new life now, but it would only be for a week or so." Elliott's voice cracked, as if he was about to cry. She knew he wouldn't have called unless it was an absolute emergency.
"Fine. We'll fly out tonight." Frieda said, drawing herself up from the resting place by the lamppost and taking her daughter's hand once again.
"You're bringing Maija with you?" Elliott asked incredulously.
"Where do you expect me to leave her? My mother is ill, you know that. It's just us." Frieda led Maija through the winding side streets of Kyiv, a well-trodden path by the two of them.
"Alright, well... I'll let them know you're coming." Frieda made an incomprehensible noise down the phone as reply, before hanging up and turning one final corner onto their street.
"Mama, what is going on?" Maija asked softly, breathing over her mother's shoulder as she jammed the key in the lock.
"There was a shooting, at Holby. They need me there to perform an operation. Pack your bags, we're going on an adventure!" Frieda knew that Maija wouldn't want to go. She hated new places and people she didn't know, but she could hardly leave a fourteen year old alone for possibly weeks.
"But Mama, is it safe, in Holby? That's where Mum died, I don't want to go..." Maija looked up with pleading eyes to her Mama, her precious Mama, her best friend.
"Maija, listen to me. Nowhere is safe now. But when you are with me, I will not let anything hurt you, mm? And we will call Sacha, ask if we can stay with him. No point renting anywhere for a week." Frieda mused out loud.
"Yes, yes Sacha!" Maija was suddenly excited at the prospect of seeing her godfather. They had had precious few weeks together when he came to Kyiv a few years ago, and they savoured every memory. As a child, she would draw so much, too many pictures than her mothers knew what to do with, and so they would package them up and send them to Sacha. He kept every single one, because when Penny died, Maija stopped drawing.
"Go and pack, my silly girl. I do not know how long we will be there for, so fit everything you can in your suitcase." Frieda nodded towards the stairs, encouraging Maija to run up them and get her stuff together. She needed to call Sacha, but wanted to do it privately.
"Yes, Mama! I will sit on it!" Maija giggled and ran for the stairs, feet pattering up them, her long hair bouncing all over her back.
Frieda unlocked her phone and dialled Sacha's number, beginning to wish that she had never accepted Elliott's proposal. But it was only for a week. Just a week.
"Oh, hello, Frieda. Have you heard then?" Sacha's voice was small and quiet, not the big bubbly personality he normally was.
"Yes, I did. Listen, Sacha, Elliott just called me. They want me to come and operate on Jac." Frieda explained, toying with a fraying hem on her sleeve.
"Oh, right. Are you going to come?" Sacha sounded like he was on the verge of tears.
"Yes, of course," Frieda quickly reassured him, "but could Maija and I stay with you for a week? It's just, I do not know if I could get a rent at such short notice-"
"Yes, obviously, of course! When are you flying out, I'll pick you up at the airport!" Sacha sounded considerably more cheerful now. Frieda realised that his kids were with Chrissie, so he must be quite lonely.
"Sometime tonight, I'll text you the flight... Thank you. We'll see you soon." Frieda hung up the phone, placing it on the kitchen counter and leaning against it. In the space of half an hour, her near future was completely twisted up, and she wasn't quite sure how to react.
She steadied herself against the granite countertop, collecting her thoughts, before being shocked back into reality by the sound of her daughter dragging a hot pink suitcase down the stairs with regular thumps. There was a pair of flowery leggings trailing behind the suitcase, half trapped in the zip, and a pair of purple briefs caught in the handle. Shaking her head at her daughters' eclectic packing, she made for the stairs herself, resolving to pack enough clothes for a week. They shouldn't be staying longer than that, should they?
—
Sacha Levy stood by the baggage roundabout, waiting for his goddaughter and good friend to arrive. They had boarded the 10:34 from Kyiv International, supposed to arrive at London Heathrow by 5 the next morning, after a change in Budapest. Suddenly, he was brought out of his deep thought by the sound of his name being called.
"Sacha!" An accented, throaty voice hailed him from behind, and he turned around to be met by Frieda's warm embrace. She was never one for hugging, but Sacha was a rare exception. As she released him, he turned to his goddaughter and lifted her off her feet into a rib-cracking bear hug, taking in the scent of their washing powder.
"Oh, it's so good to see you! How've you been?" Sacha addressed Maija, who just nodded, her smile wide. He didn't know whether she couldn't understand or was still not talking, but took it in his stride and looked to Frieda. They were the spitting image of each other, the same long dark hair and matching fringes. The big difference was in the dress style: Frieda was wearing all black, save for the glinting metal belt, whereas Maija wore pink leggings, a skirt and a patterned zip-up jacket. He grinned at her childish taste, glad that she wasn't grown up quite yet.
"How is it at the hospital?" Frieda asked, her voice laced with concern. Maija clutched at her hand, tagging along behind the two adults.
"Uh, it's pretty bad. It takes close to an hour to get in and out, bag searches and all that. Everyone's shaken, the atmosphere is awful." Sacha commented, leading the two women out of the airport and towards the parking lot.
"I guess that's all you can expect. It's so awful, I thought I knew Fredrick so well." Frieda said, pulling open the passenger door and sliding in as Sacha heaved the suitcases into the boot of the car. Maija settled herself in the backseat, staring out the window at the street lights contentedly.
"I didn't realise you were friends." Sacha revealed, turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the parking space.
"He and Penny dated for a while. He seemed like such a nice man." Frieda answered, not missing how Maija's head snapped up at the mention of Penny. She turned to face the backseat, calmly repeating something in (presumably) Ukrainian. Maija nodded, and turned to the window once again. They were speeding along the motorway, the small bursts of light from the street lights illuminating Maija's Eastern European features.
"So, Maija, how have you been?"Sacha broke the comfortable silence, clicking the indicators and pulling onto another street.
"I am- good, thank you." She replied very quietly, her voice barely legible over the hum of the car engine. Her accent was stronger than Frieda's and her words were separated, as if her English was not confident.
"That's good. How's school going?" Sacha decided to press the conversation, glad that Maija had the confidence to talk to him. She paused for a moment, and he could tell she was contemplating her choice of words.
"It is, ah, going well, thank you." She answered just as Sacha swung his Toyota into the driveway of a large, but not pretentious house.
"This is it. I set up two rooms, they're right next to each other, and I thought we could order pizza tonight. Early start tomorrow." Maija nodded eagerly, and stepped out of the car with a spring in her step, running around to the boot so she could grab her bags.
"The English- sky, it tastes strange." Maija giggled quietly, taking her backpack and suitcase from Sacha.
"Do you mean air?", Sacha chuckled, amused by this small accented girl and her bad English.
"Yes, air." Maija let out a laugh, the loudest noise Sacha had heard her make since he'd been with her.
"Come on, let's get you unpacked." Sacha offered the young girl his hand and she took it gratefully, stepping over the door frame into the warm home.
—
Later that night, as Sacha emerged from the bathroom, he caught sight of a small, skinny, pink-nightie clad figure tip-toeing across the carpet towards her mother's room. She cautiously opened the door, slipping inside, and Sacha heard the squeak of the floor as the bed settled. As he walked past, he could hear murmurs of conversation, the faint sound of whimpering echoing around the silent home. It made him so proud, that Frieda, the young, seemingly reckless goth that was widowed too early, had grown up to be such an incredible mother. She did Penny proud.