A/N: I'm distracting myself from being terrified of starting my new job in the morning. Forgive me.
Sarah x
The rhythm of the machines never wavered.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep...
Like Swiss clockwork. Over and over again, every day. They were machines she used and listened to at work all the time, but when they were hooked up to her comatose colleague, it felt so different. Powerless to help, she was reduced to watching in silence on an almost daily basis, in the hour directly after her shift. Not to know why this had happened made sitting here excruciatingly painful at times, too. Never were they particularly close, but often they had to stick together in the face of adversity around here.
There was currently a daughter who was once more without her mother, and a ward that missed their lead consultant terribly. To have Jac Naylor laid up in Intensive Care was just not right, and it was only made worse by the fact that nobody had a clue how she sustained the blow that put her here. The uncertainty was frustrating to everyone here, particularly to those working in the science of medicine. They were all people who were used to being able to find objective answers. This was anything but objective – nobody had the first clue why this had happened.
Four days had gone by and they had nothing to show for it in terms of improvement in Jac's condition. They were also no further forward in their understanding of how a ruthless woman ended up in that state.
What was most bizarre was completely scientific; Guy Self had run all the tests and scans at least twice now, and there was no real reason for her to still be comatose. She ought to be awake by now.
"It's almost like she doesn't want to wake up," a voice from behind stated. Sitting in that chair, staring at the still redhead, the voice had been startling. "Sorry, Serena," said Sacha with a little smile when she turned fast in her chair. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
"It's alright," she replied, relaxing once more. "You're right, though. I expected her to be up and about by now, since there's nothing actually physically wrong. It isn't like her, is it?" Sacha said nothing, electing instead to take the seat next to Serena's. "No change, of course," she sighed. "I can't help but wonder how this happened. Was there anyone else there?"
Sacha huffed slightly. "No. Just Jac," he explained. "There was nobody there – not when I found her, anyway. It was probably an accident."
That was something Serena was willing to debate, however, since Jac had a knack for making enemies very quickly. There was every chance that Jac had got into a bit of a scuffle with someone and it went badly wrong. As she pondered that idea, Sacha's phone rang, causing him to jump to his feet and leave the room. Serena stood up, knowing she had spent enough time here. She picked up her coat and bag, and placed her hand lightly on Jac's pale forehead.
An incapacitated Jac Naylor was an unnatural sight to almost everyone. It was just plain wrong. Serena leaned down and whispered into Jac's ear, "Pull yourself together. You've got more willpower than this, Jac Naylor." With that, she left, shooting Sacha a smile and a wave as she passed him. There was nothing either of them could do to help, and it was infuriating beyond belief. A card at her bedside was of no comfort to the people who wrote in it; after all, everyone knew Jac and they all knew that she was not easily defeated.
As she waited on the lift, she wondered what was going on in Jac's head, lying unconscious on that bed. What was keeping her from waking? In the lift, when the doors opened, stood Elliot Hope, looking worried and stressed to the hilt. "Good evening, Serena," he greeted her with a smile. "How's the patient?"
"Still comatose, unfortunately," answered Serena. She knew Elliot only asked in the hope of some change, but he also didn't seem to expect any improvement. Was he just keeping himself from getting his hopes up, to avoid some of the pain if Jac never woke up? "Headed home?"
"Yes," replied Elliot. "It's been a hard week, for everyone. I think I can hear my bed calling me," he jested.
"'Elliot! Elliot!'" Serena called faintly; her joke made Elliot chuckle. They smiled together until the doors opened at the main entrance to the hospital, and they parted their ways at the front door with fond smiles and wishes of a good weekend for one another.
The air was cold and damp to Serena, who currently craved warmth and safety, and there was the weight of something unpleasant stirring in the sky above. The friendly warmth of Albie's on a Friday night beckoned, along with a rest from the traumatic events of this past week. It seemed that everyone she knew had a bit of a rotten week, though everyone agreed that Jac Naylor had come out rather worse for wear.
In the back corner of the pub, when Serena entered, sat Keller's trio of junior doctors: Dominic Copeland, Zosia March and Arthur Digby. She smiled slightly as Dom seemed to insist upon checking Arthur's injured shoulder yet again; Serena had been forced to x-ray him when he arrived on AAU after a slip on the stairs on Tuesday afternoon. Fortunately, it turned out just to be sprained and rather badly bruised. Those three wound each other up something terrible, but there was a genuine bond of friendship and care between the flatmates.
Serena sat at the bar and ordered her normal large glass of red wine, quietly contemplating the week's events. Jac, of course, was in a coma. Arthur's shoulder was injured. Mary-Claire Carter, as she sat with Adrian Fletcher, was obviously fighting back tears yet again – one of her best friends, a nurse on oncology, died on Monday morning under curious, perhaps suspicious, circumstances. Serena watched as Fletch pulled the nurse into a tight hug, rocking her slightly in his arms.
Guy Self sat, unusually, on his own, a troubled expression upon his face. His patient had gone walkabout on Tuesday morning, and was not readmitted, or even seen again. She knew that was bound to get to him. It would have bothered her, too, if it were her patient.
Mo Effanga, alone, sat next to Serena and ordered a drink. "How's the young woman we sent up to you doing?" Serena asked.
"Caroline?" Mo replied. "Considering she's just had a masonry drill removed from her lung, she's doing OK. Still won't tell us how it happened, though. What about Jac?"
"Still out for the count, I'm afraid."
Mo clearly had expected as much, but still that glimmer of disappointment crossed her face. Serena just smiled sadly and patted the transplant surgeon's shoulder in a rather useless attempt at reassurance. "I heard about Mary-Claire's friend," Mo said. "How's she bearing up?"
Serena glanced over at the Irishwoman, evaluating her behaviour from the past few days. "She's throwing herself into her work. I don't know if she's fully grasped it yet; I'm starting to think she's still in shock, but I can't get her to take time off work."
"How's Sacha?"
"Stuck to Jac like glue, at the moment," Serena sighed. "I've just left him there with her."
"I expected that," nodded Mo. "You didn't hear about Helen, though?"
"His ex-wife?"
"Yeah. She just moved back here so the girls can spend more time together. Their house was broken into last night."
Surprised, Serena asked, "Was anyone hurt?"
"No, they were all at Sacha's place."
A sigh of relief escaped Serena. "This has been the week from hell," she commented. "I'm just glad it's over." She watched as Fletch took Mary-Claire over to join Dom, Zosia and Arthur, probably in an attempt to make her feel better. In silence, Serena picked up her glass and sat beside them, Mo at her heel, and together they lamented the horrible week everyone had had. It was reassuring to be able to pull together and comfort Mary-Claire, in particular. She was the one suffering the most at the moment.
Serena caught Zosia staring into space, and wondered what she was thinking about. Perhaps it was mental illness and tiredness taking their toll – Serena knew the effects of that combination all too well – but there was something haunted about the look on her face as she seemed to study the floor. She then looked around at Guy, and wondered what on Earth was stopping him being a supportive father to Zosia, rather than sitting there drowning his sorrows, sulking about something that was now completely out of his control.
That was the worst thing about this week: nobody could have done anything to have foreseen the events that occurred, let alone do anything to stop any of it from happening. It was unnerving. Serena only hoped next week would be better, and she knew she was not alone in that wish. It was all they could do, having realised they had no power with which they could make it so.
Please feel free to tell me your thoughts.
Sarah x
