Love in the Form of a Blood-Soaked Jacket

Sybil was walking home from her shift at the hospital. She lived a convenient distance away from work that she could usually walk the journey, but when the weather was really foul, she wasn't generally seen as lazy if she drove. It was mid-afternoon now and she was walking across the middle of a field – the field that she crossed on foot every day (or at least every day that she had work). But today it had a completely different atmosphere because it was packed with people. It was a glorious day; the sun was high, the light was good and it was wonderfully hot. But, although everybody else was enjoying the sunshine, Sybil was not. She was not glad of the sun and the holidays – school holidays always meant lots of people were around. She had had a busy day at work – anybody in a 'normal' job would have classed Sybil's day as completely hectic and enough work to last a week, but for Sybil it was only slightly worse than normal. She had eaten only half a biscuit all day and she had drunk next to nothing – a cup of coffee to wake her up and a cup of tea during her break. The sun was now making her feel extremely dizzy and very unwell. But she decided that if she were to stop now she'd never get going again, so she kept walking along the gravelled path. This was the worst decision she'd made since choosing to leave the second half of that biscuit on the side and continue working. Within moments she was on the floor. Nobody seemed to notice. Except for one man. He came up to her to see if she was alright. She wasn't. She was unconscious. She had obviously fainted, rather than just having lost her footing. As he gently moved her head to the side so that he could see her face, he felt his fingers get wet. He pulled them away to see what it was and saw them covered in thick red blood. "Shit!" he said under his breath. He put one arm around her back and the other under the backs of her knees and carried her into the shade of a large tree in a secluded corner of the field, and rested her on the floor. He took off his jacket and rolled it into a small ball. He then carefully pressed it against Sybil's head where he had found her bleeding. He didn't know much about medicine, but he knew that it was best to apply pressure to bleeding wounds. After a few minutes she came around and tried to sit up a bit. "Whoa, whoa!" Tom said hurriedly. "Sitting up won't do you any good." But Sybil sat up and leant more against the tree anyway. She clutched a hand to Tom's jacket when she noticed that he had taken it away from her head slightly. Tom put the jacket on the floor momentarily. Sybil looked from the jacket to Tom, confused. "You fainted at the edge of the path over there," he pointed briefly in the direction and Sybil looked, trying to remember what had happened. "I brought you over here so that you would be in the shade and have the chance to cool down a bit, and I put my jacket against your head because you're bleeding." Sybil put her hand up to her head and, sure enough, her hand emerged from her mass of dark hair smothered in red fluid. Tom took the jacket and pressed it against her head again. She smiled weakly at him. Why was this stranger being so nice to her?

"Thank you," she said finally, once she had the strength to make some sort of sense of the situation, "but you didn't have to do anything."

"Yes I did," Tom countered. "I can't leave a beautiful woman lying unconscious on the ground and walk away guilt free." Sybil smiled at him again, flattered.

"Well, whether you think I'm beautiful or not, I mean it; thank you." Tom smiled back at her and turned the blood-soaked jacket so that it would be more effective.

"I'm Tom, by the way."

"Sybil," she said, looking towards him with a kind expression. Ordinarily she would offer her hand to him to shake, but at this point she didn't know if she could muster the effort, and she wasn't about to see if she could by testing it.

"You're beginning to look quite pale and you now seem to have a significant lack of blood. Do you think we should get you to a hospital?" Tom asked, having realised that she was a nurse from her uniform.

"I don't want to take you out of your way," Sybil said, being too considerate for her own good – as usual.

"Nonsense!" Tom said, letting a smile curve his lips. "I'd carry you all the way there if I had to!" Sybil blushed at that. "Well, that's got some colour back into your cheeks! And I mean what I said, you are a beautiful woman." Sybil looked up at him.

"You're rather handsome, yourself!" Sybil laughed.

Tom stood up and offered Sybil his hands to pull her up. She took them in one hand, the other keeping his jacket pressed against her wound. He led her to his car, which was just around the corner. Once they were both in the car, Sybil realised that the jacket she was holding in a bundle was getting completely ruined thanks to her blood. "Sorry, I've just realised… umm… I can buy you a new jacket to make up for this."

"You'll do no such thing!" Tom laughed kindly.

"But it's not fair that you being kind to a total stranger means you have to spend more money," Sybil protested.

"Life's not fair, Sybil. Over time, we all have to get to grips with that concept." Tom had a good point and Sybil knew it, but she kept trying to offer to buy him a jacket, or even a new suit, but he kept declining the offer. "Sybil, do you even knew how much a jacket costs – even without the rest of the suit?"

"Well, I've never had to buy one, if that's what you mean, but I don't care! I'm determined to give you back what you deserve for taking care of me. You're just being too nice because you don't know me yet."

"No, but hopefully I will get to know you," Tom smirked at her.

"And when you do, you'll realise I'm stubborn and it's not easy to beat me in an argument like this."

"I don't care if it's easy – I just need it to be possible and I'll manage." Sybil looked sideways at this man and raised one eyebrow. She gave an inward sigh of temporary defeat. Within minutes they were at the hospital and in the waiting room. A doctor working on the accident and emergency ward came out of a door and called Sybil's name. She got up to walk into an all too familiar room that she worked in frequently, but then almost fell back on her seat, so Tom got up and guided her in. Sybil sat on the bed and Tom stood at the edge of the room, trying not to get in the way too much.

"What happened, Sybil?" the doctor asked, acting (sarcastically) as if he were unimpressed at the situation. Dr Clarkson was Sybil's superior and they worked quite closely together, so banter was always flying between them and they were constantly teasing one another.

"I fainted, and I suppose I hit my head on a rock or something."

"Well that was careless!" Dr Clarkson teased. "Let's have a look then." Once he'd put the clipboard down he started to examine Sybil's wound. He checked to see if she could still make sense of the world and then proceeded to patch her up. Once she'd stopped being teased by Dr Clarkson and she was no longer bleeding, Tom led her back outside. Tom reached his hand out to grab his jacket, but Sybil moved it so that it was not in his reach. She grinned at him.

"If I give your jacket back, I might never see you again!" she protested.

"Would that be a bad thing?" Tom asked.

"Yes, a very bad thing!"

"How do you know I don't live in Ireland? Maybe there's no chance I'll ever set eyes on you again."

"You're wearing a suit. Nobody ever wears a full suit and tie in this weather unless they have to, so that tells me that you work here. And you know where the hospital is. I assume that's because you've been there a couple of times because of that lovely thing called alcohol." Tom looked stunned.

"Are you a real life, female Sherlock Holmes or what?"

"It's just common sense," Sybil said, keeping her grip firm on his jacket. "And anyway, as much as I love Sherlock, I'm nowhere near as socially awkward as he is."

"Well that's good to know," Tom said with a laugh. "Right then, little miss Not-quite-Sherlock-but-quite-similar Holmes, how do I get my jacket back?"

"You give me your number. Or do something just as good." Sybil raised one eyebrow and let the corners of her lips curl upwards.

"Do you want to go out for coffee? We could get to know each other," Tom suggested. "Besides, if you don't have something to eat and drink soon, you'll faint again."

"Sounds perfect!" Sybil agreed.

"Can I suggest that you don't say anything about perfection until you get to know me? You don't want to have to eat your words."

"I've eaten my words plenty of times, it's nothing new – I was a rebellious teenager, you see."

"Well, it's good that you'll have had some practise then."

"Oh, come on! What can there be about you that's bad? You're Irish, you're kind, your body's obviously rather attractive – it's going to take a lot of bad to cancel out all the good that I've seen in you so far."

"Why thank you!" Tom joked merrily. "Come on, then, I'll drive you to town." Sybil let Tom lead her to his car and then drive her to a café in town. Considering it was the school holidays, there weren't that many people about. They all seemed to be making use of the grassier areas of the city. Although the area surrounding this particular café wasn't the greenest place in the world, it was spacious and open, so it got a fair amount of sunlight, but there were fabric roofs outside the café to provide cover as well. Tom and Sybil walked together to the café, leaving the blood-soaked garment in the car and had a cup of coffee and some cake each.

Once they were finished they both got in the car and were about to drive off, but Tom's phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and answered it. "Hello? I thought they had that sorted. Are they really that stupid? Is it possible to be quite so incompetent? Bloody hell! Yeah, give me half an hour." He hung up. Sybil looked at him sideways and said,

"Work trouble?"

"It's not the work so much, but the people who are supposed to be doing the work," Tom sighed. "I've got to go back to work. How about I drop you home and we'll exchange information while we're there?"

"Sounds great. I live a few streets down from the high street. I'll direct you more when we get closer." Tom started the car and explained to Sybil that he was a journalist and that most of the people he worked with were completely incapable of doing anything that was actually worth doing. Sybil sympathised with him. A lot of her family friends were exactly the same and she hated spending time with them, so she understood Tom's frustration at working with them every day. Tom found a parking space around the corner from Sybil's front door, so he walked her to her house. When they got there, Tom looked at the house number so that he could remember it for next time.

"221 – really? Come on, you can't deny it now, you so are a living Sherlock Holmes!" Tom said rather loudly.

"Perhaps you could be my Watson – if you want to be," Sybil said, darting her eyes to the floor. Tom smiled at Sybil.

"I'd love to be," he paused slightly. "Do you have a pen?" he asked. Sybil rustled around in her handbag and found a pen and some paper. She handed them to him.

"The pen might not work, though," she warned. Tom tried it.

"No, it doesn't."

"Alright then," Sybil said, as she turned to her door so that she could twist the key in the lock and enter her home. "Come on in," she gestured to Tom. He followed her in through the door and then into the kitchen. She grabbed a pen that worked and handed it to Tom. He placed his own keys down on the table and wrote down his information. His name; his mobile number; his e-mail address; his home number; his home address. He handed the paper to Sybil, who examined his information. He noticed that his handwriting was awfully curly for a man like that. "Wonderful," Sybil said. "I'll text you with all my information later." They smiled at each other. Together they walked to the door and Tom stood on the doorstep, looking at Sybil – his new girl. Did he dare think of her like that already? Silently he contemplated how he'd got himself such a beautiful woman. He looked into her eyes and said,

"I'm glad you fainted, Sybil – if you didn't, I wouldn't have met you."

"I'm quite glad I fainted, too." Tom kissed Sybil on the cheek and smiled at her. She smiled back and leaned on the doorframe. "We should organise another time to get together soon."

"I couldn't agree more," Tom said. "I'd better be off."

"Alright, then," Sybil said, kindly. "If your colleagues get too irritatingly awful, just fire them all!" she advised with a laugh. Tom laughed too, but it was bittersweet, as he was leaving Sybil. They both heard his phone alert him that he had a text message. "Go on – or you'll be late." She kissed him on the cheek once and then he turned to go, calling back,

"Bye, Sybil," on his way down the garden path. Maybe this was the start of something that was actually worth something more than he thought. He had already had butterflies in his stomach multiple times just from Sybil, so who knew where they'd be in the future?

This is only a fluffy one-shot. Not at the same standard as my other fics I think. Hope you enjoyed it anyway.