I own nothing and no one used in this fic - they belong to someone else,somewhere else. I don't own the title either - it's a song (something I only found out after I titled the fic)
I'll leave you to decide who "he" is - although there are hints later in the fic.
"Come on, girl, wake up. You know you want to,"
And I want you to! Don't die for Gods sakes don't die. I can't deal with it. Why couldn't she open her eyes? Just some sign. All that he heard were the regular hiss of the ventilator and the steady bleep of the heart monitor. It was eerie. He couldn't live like this, with the uncertainty, knowing that whatever the outcome it was it would be his fault. Flashbacks had haunted him from the moment it happened and he wished life had a rewind button more than
anything at this point. He rested his elbows on the bed and closed his eyes - judging his environment purely by sound. What exactly had happened? He remembered fighting with Kovac and the next thing she was lying in a crumpled heap on the landing below them. The bit in between was a bit fuzzy and he hated that. Why had she tried to intervene? She wouldn't be where she was now if she'd just let them kick the hell out of each other. No, it wasn't her fault. It was his fault.
"My fault,"
He muttered under his breath, to no one in particular except himself.
"What are you doing here?"
The tone came across as confrontational, almost territorial. He had to be submissive.
"I'll go. There's no need to be nasty,"
"I think there's every need to be nasty,"
"Don't lets fight again, look where it got us already,"
Looking sadly at her prostrate form one last time, he got up to go. He didn't have the energy or the will left to argue. Visibly wilted, he left the room where he'd spent the last hours, praying and pleading in equal measures. He wandered the halls, a haunted man, until eventually he found quiet. He slid down the wall onto the floor in one of the silent surgical hallways. He just couldn't walk any further, couldn't move.
"Go home,"
He heard a concerned, almost motherly voice from somewhere above him. He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"You aren't doing yourself any good here,"
The warmth of another human body beside him jolted him back into reality. He couldn't ignore her. She wasn't going away.
"You look like hell,"
Well, thanks for pointing out the blatantly obvious, he thought bitterly.
"I'm O.K,"
"Blatantly not true,"
She said in her very matter-of-fact, final British way.
"I don't want to go home. I'm not just another patient, Lizzie, you can't fob me off. I know how bad this is,"
The redhead sighed heavily, almost wearily. It was bad. He knew her chances and he definitely didn't like the odds she faced. He knew if anyone could pull through then Abby would but....Doubt, guilt and a feeling of impending grief
were mingling in him, sucking the life out of him slowly.
"Give it time,"
"I'm trying,"
"Where's Kovac?"
"In with her, that's why I'm here,"
He pulled his knees tight to his chest in that foetal, protective position adopted when feeling vulnerable. He was almost too numb to cry. It didn't seem quite enough. Kind of pointless. The only sound was of their breathing. It seemed somehow real, somehow human, compared to the artificial hiss of the respirator he'd heard for all those hours in Abby's room. Every time he thought her name it sent another bolt of pain stabbing into his brain. But
there was nothing else on his mind, nothing else seemed important. Nothing else was important.
"You spoken to him?"
"No. He still wants to kill me. More than ever now,"
"You blame him for it?"
Her English accent had an incredulous sound to it. No, he didn't blame him. He'd feel the same way if roles were reversed. But the Croatians unusual out-of-character violent outburst had only landed the woman he claimed to love in hospital.
"No. I don't blame him. What I did is unforgivable,"
As if he needed any verbal reassurance of that fact.
"I just don't understand how she ended up in there, not me. She's the innocent...."
"The innocent? She's hardly that,"
"Well, as if it matters anyway. She's still there and I'm still here,"
Lizzie nodded. Arguing would go round in circles and they'd only end up in the same place. He'd still be beating himself up. That wouldn't stop until she woke up. If she woke up. She couldn't be sure even Abby'd pull through. No one
could be sure.
"We need to talk,"
He looked up into the eyes of a very angry yet equally confused man and felt extremely small in comparison.
"Luka, don't do this,"
Lizzie stood between Kovac and him, her hand barring the way. Just let him have me, kill me, make this easier and quicker for us all, he thought bitterly making no attempt to raise himself from the cold linoleum floor.
"Lizzie, you don't have to protect him,"
"I think I do,"
She stood her ground, aware that that was exactly what got Abby where she now was. She couldn't let them do this to each other. They couldn't keep this up - they'd destroy each other and themselves.
"Please, Lizzie, get out of the way,"
Luka sounded perfectly calm and patient, speaking the way you would to a small child almost.
"I won't watch you do this,"
"I just need to speak to him,"
"Who's with her?"
Lizzie demanded suddenly.
"The nurse needed vitals, I needed to stretch my legs,"
He felt a need to scoff at the Croatians last comment.
"I was there for hours, never moved from her side,"
"She didn't know you were there,"
Luka snapped back.
"You don't know that,"
He challenged angrily, Luka backed down.
"I was claustrophobic O.K? The atmosphere was suffocating me,"
He was on his feet now. Lizzie still stood between them, ready to play peacemaker if needed. The look on Kovacs face told him everything because on it was etched the same emotions he felt only too strongly pounding in his own
veins.
"I know,"
"I dare say you think you do,"
The comment that sprang impetuosly to his throat was stopped by a solemnly raised hand.
"No, let me finish. Do you know what it's like to sit there and watch the woman you are in love with unable to even breathe for herself? Can you have any comprehension at all of how difficult it is to see her with all her warmth gone?
She doesn't even seem like a person anymore! And all you're doing is praying she'll wake up so you can tell her you love her,"
He absorbed every word of the emotional tirade as a seperate blow. The ferocity and passion in the words wounded him but didn't surprise him. He knew that deep down inside maybe Luka did love her. Or maybe he was just territorial and protective. Either way it was clear marker of the distance between the two. He didn't feel the need to display his emotions and affections in a manner which sought attention. He internalised it all. This was why he didn't answer the questions. There was an answer, just not one he thought Kovac would want to hear right now. He let the other man believe he held higher ground in the argument. He let himself be viewed as the inferior being.
There was no use in fighting preconceptions. He was the bad guy in everyone's eyes. Why try to change it? Inside he knew he was in the wrong in the events leading up to the accident. Inside he knew also knew he wasn't the only one.
Luka had the moral high ground - the cheated lover and all. Everyone was feeling sorry for him. No one had asked why she'd strayed had they? It didn't seem important. He knew why. She'd been sick of being treated as just a warm
body to come home to, sick of the routine of their relationship, sick, basically, of the genuine lack of affection and his extremely large moral high horse didn't help either. Luka had driven her away. He didn't condone his own actions. How could he? He should have had the sense to push her away and take her home. He didn't have the self control. Every time he thought of how it all ended up,
pictured her lying there lifeless, he cursed his own nature a little more. Every time a little more of him died. The Croatian turned and walked away, more than a little self-satisfied. He almost wanted to hit him but violence was what got them here in the first place. Lizzie turned back to him, her face a little flushed.
"That put you in your place huh?"
She tried a half smile but got no response. He continued staring down the hallway even although the other doctor had long since disappeared from view.
"I knew my place, Lizzie, I always know it, it never changes. I'm the bad guy, I'll never be anything else,"
"That isn't true, he's just...."
"It's not just him though is it?"
Lizzie fell ominously silent, confirming that the answer he'd been expecting was correct.
"Even she hated me. Ironic isn't it that I was the one who instigated this then? Being as she'd often rather drain boils than spend time in my company,"
He smiled sadly at the countless knockbacks he'd recieved from her. Always ready with a smart remark and a sardonic, biting smile, that was Abby. Always on hand in a crisis. Good old Abby, reliable, sensible, witty, bright, loyal, loving, beautiful Abby. Come back to us please, don't go. I'll do whatever it takes, please God, come back. He inwardly pleaded a pointless case with an entity he wasn't entirely sure he believed in any more (if at all). He waited for the redhead to answer but truth was even for all her British logic and natural way with words she didn't have one.
"I'm going to go,"
She couldn't say anything more so she backed out and went back to work. He knew it was easier for her to do that than to stay and get any more involved in current situations. He was alone again in the silence.
To be continued...
I'll leave you to decide who "he" is - although there are hints later in the fic.
"Come on, girl, wake up. You know you want to,"
And I want you to! Don't die for Gods sakes don't die. I can't deal with it. Why couldn't she open her eyes? Just some sign. All that he heard were the regular hiss of the ventilator and the steady bleep of the heart monitor. It was eerie. He couldn't live like this, with the uncertainty, knowing that whatever the outcome it was it would be his fault. Flashbacks had haunted him from the moment it happened and he wished life had a rewind button more than
anything at this point. He rested his elbows on the bed and closed his eyes - judging his environment purely by sound. What exactly had happened? He remembered fighting with Kovac and the next thing she was lying in a crumpled heap on the landing below them. The bit in between was a bit fuzzy and he hated that. Why had she tried to intervene? She wouldn't be where she was now if she'd just let them kick the hell out of each other. No, it wasn't her fault. It was his fault.
"My fault,"
He muttered under his breath, to no one in particular except himself.
"What are you doing here?"
The tone came across as confrontational, almost territorial. He had to be submissive.
"I'll go. There's no need to be nasty,"
"I think there's every need to be nasty,"
"Don't lets fight again, look where it got us already,"
Looking sadly at her prostrate form one last time, he got up to go. He didn't have the energy or the will left to argue. Visibly wilted, he left the room where he'd spent the last hours, praying and pleading in equal measures. He wandered the halls, a haunted man, until eventually he found quiet. He slid down the wall onto the floor in one of the silent surgical hallways. He just couldn't walk any further, couldn't move.
"Go home,"
He heard a concerned, almost motherly voice from somewhere above him. He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"You aren't doing yourself any good here,"
The warmth of another human body beside him jolted him back into reality. He couldn't ignore her. She wasn't going away.
"You look like hell,"
Well, thanks for pointing out the blatantly obvious, he thought bitterly.
"I'm O.K,"
"Blatantly not true,"
She said in her very matter-of-fact, final British way.
"I don't want to go home. I'm not just another patient, Lizzie, you can't fob me off. I know how bad this is,"
The redhead sighed heavily, almost wearily. It was bad. He knew her chances and he definitely didn't like the odds she faced. He knew if anyone could pull through then Abby would but....Doubt, guilt and a feeling of impending grief
were mingling in him, sucking the life out of him slowly.
"Give it time,"
"I'm trying,"
"Where's Kovac?"
"In with her, that's why I'm here,"
He pulled his knees tight to his chest in that foetal, protective position adopted when feeling vulnerable. He was almost too numb to cry. It didn't seem quite enough. Kind of pointless. The only sound was of their breathing. It seemed somehow real, somehow human, compared to the artificial hiss of the respirator he'd heard for all those hours in Abby's room. Every time he thought her name it sent another bolt of pain stabbing into his brain. But
there was nothing else on his mind, nothing else seemed important. Nothing else was important.
"You spoken to him?"
"No. He still wants to kill me. More than ever now,"
"You blame him for it?"
Her English accent had an incredulous sound to it. No, he didn't blame him. He'd feel the same way if roles were reversed. But the Croatians unusual out-of-character violent outburst had only landed the woman he claimed to love in hospital.
"No. I don't blame him. What I did is unforgivable,"
As if he needed any verbal reassurance of that fact.
"I just don't understand how she ended up in there, not me. She's the innocent...."
"The innocent? She's hardly that,"
"Well, as if it matters anyway. She's still there and I'm still here,"
Lizzie nodded. Arguing would go round in circles and they'd only end up in the same place. He'd still be beating himself up. That wouldn't stop until she woke up. If she woke up. She couldn't be sure even Abby'd pull through. No one
could be sure.
"We need to talk,"
He looked up into the eyes of a very angry yet equally confused man and felt extremely small in comparison.
"Luka, don't do this,"
Lizzie stood between Kovac and him, her hand barring the way. Just let him have me, kill me, make this easier and quicker for us all, he thought bitterly making no attempt to raise himself from the cold linoleum floor.
"Lizzie, you don't have to protect him,"
"I think I do,"
She stood her ground, aware that that was exactly what got Abby where she now was. She couldn't let them do this to each other. They couldn't keep this up - they'd destroy each other and themselves.
"Please, Lizzie, get out of the way,"
Luka sounded perfectly calm and patient, speaking the way you would to a small child almost.
"I won't watch you do this,"
"I just need to speak to him,"
"Who's with her?"
Lizzie demanded suddenly.
"The nurse needed vitals, I needed to stretch my legs,"
He felt a need to scoff at the Croatians last comment.
"I was there for hours, never moved from her side,"
"She didn't know you were there,"
Luka snapped back.
"You don't know that,"
He challenged angrily, Luka backed down.
"I was claustrophobic O.K? The atmosphere was suffocating me,"
He was on his feet now. Lizzie still stood between them, ready to play peacemaker if needed. The look on Kovacs face told him everything because on it was etched the same emotions he felt only too strongly pounding in his own
veins.
"I know,"
"I dare say you think you do,"
The comment that sprang impetuosly to his throat was stopped by a solemnly raised hand.
"No, let me finish. Do you know what it's like to sit there and watch the woman you are in love with unable to even breathe for herself? Can you have any comprehension at all of how difficult it is to see her with all her warmth gone?
She doesn't even seem like a person anymore! And all you're doing is praying she'll wake up so you can tell her you love her,"
He absorbed every word of the emotional tirade as a seperate blow. The ferocity and passion in the words wounded him but didn't surprise him. He knew that deep down inside maybe Luka did love her. Or maybe he was just territorial and protective. Either way it was clear marker of the distance between the two. He didn't feel the need to display his emotions and affections in a manner which sought attention. He internalised it all. This was why he didn't answer the questions. There was an answer, just not one he thought Kovac would want to hear right now. He let the other man believe he held higher ground in the argument. He let himself be viewed as the inferior being.
There was no use in fighting preconceptions. He was the bad guy in everyone's eyes. Why try to change it? Inside he knew he was in the wrong in the events leading up to the accident. Inside he knew also knew he wasn't the only one.
Luka had the moral high ground - the cheated lover and all. Everyone was feeling sorry for him. No one had asked why she'd strayed had they? It didn't seem important. He knew why. She'd been sick of being treated as just a warm
body to come home to, sick of the routine of their relationship, sick, basically, of the genuine lack of affection and his extremely large moral high horse didn't help either. Luka had driven her away. He didn't condone his own actions. How could he? He should have had the sense to push her away and take her home. He didn't have the self control. Every time he thought of how it all ended up,
pictured her lying there lifeless, he cursed his own nature a little more. Every time a little more of him died. The Croatian turned and walked away, more than a little self-satisfied. He almost wanted to hit him but violence was what got them here in the first place. Lizzie turned back to him, her face a little flushed.
"That put you in your place huh?"
She tried a half smile but got no response. He continued staring down the hallway even although the other doctor had long since disappeared from view.
"I knew my place, Lizzie, I always know it, it never changes. I'm the bad guy, I'll never be anything else,"
"That isn't true, he's just...."
"It's not just him though is it?"
Lizzie fell ominously silent, confirming that the answer he'd been expecting was correct.
"Even she hated me. Ironic isn't it that I was the one who instigated this then? Being as she'd often rather drain boils than spend time in my company,"
He smiled sadly at the countless knockbacks he'd recieved from her. Always ready with a smart remark and a sardonic, biting smile, that was Abby. Always on hand in a crisis. Good old Abby, reliable, sensible, witty, bright, loyal, loving, beautiful Abby. Come back to us please, don't go. I'll do whatever it takes, please God, come back. He inwardly pleaded a pointless case with an entity he wasn't entirely sure he believed in any more (if at all). He waited for the redhead to answer but truth was even for all her British logic and natural way with words she didn't have one.
"I'm going to go,"
She couldn't say anything more so she backed out and went back to work. He knew it was easier for her to do that than to stay and get any more involved in current situations. He was alone again in the silence.
To be continued...