Rhythm of the Falling Rain
He held her hand tightly, the only part of her that he could reach it seemed that he could touch without causing her anymore pain. His thumb stroked back and forth across her palm. If in some way she was aware of his presence, he hoped this would provide at least a little comfort.
He was waiting, waiting for her to wake up. Though at some level he was dreading the moment she did. Her injuries were not life threatening; Mr Rose had attended to them in theatre without complication. No, it was the brutality in which the injuries were inflicted that made him reluctant to see her conscious. For he knew, when she awoke, everything would hit her and he would see the devastation once more in her eyes, as he had done earlier.
He remembered back, to the moment mere hours ago when he'd heard the desperate knocking on his front door. He'd opened it to reveal his beloved Jill, seeing her in a way he'd hoped never to see her. Her hands, her legs, her face, her arms were covered in blood, bruises and cuts. As she laid eyes on him, she let out a series of tiny sobs, tears once more cascading down her already damp cheeks.
He held out his hands, wrapping his fingers around hers as she placed her palms to him, regardless of the blood. It took little persuasion to lead her inside, and even less, once he'd shut the door, to draw her into a hug. It was only later he realised just how much that hug would have hurt her, but it seemed that at that moment, the need for comfort and safety overrode any physical pain she felt.
Eventually he pulled back, his hands moving to her waist. His eyes held a deep concern as he asked her gently what had happened. She just shook her head, shifting uncomfortably on the spot, her face contorting in increasing pain so he changed tact, asking her where she was injured.
"My leg's the worst. But… I don't know. Everywhere just hurts."
"Alright." He soothed as she descended once more into tears. "Let's check you out hey love." He led her upstairs, mindful of the children; they might disturb them in the living room, but his bedroom door had a lock. He didn't want them seeing her like that, for their sake and for Jill's.
The short journey was slow; Jill whimpered, winced and cried with each movement. He helped her as much as he could with one holding his doctors bag, his free arm encircled her waist, drawing her to his side and encouraging her to lean on him as much as she needed. She in turn clung tightly to the banister and his shoulder, gritting her teeth against each movement, but determined to make it.
Jill stirring broke Gordon from his thoughts, drew him from earlier that evening at his house to the present, to the side ward in the hospital. He shifted so he was in her eye line, a soft, reassuring smile adorned his face as he looked at her.
"Hello my darling."