Late in the evening, alone in her office, she fingered the vials of morphine that she had taken from the drug trolley wondering how something that looked so innocuous could be so destructive. It looked a lot like water and yet it could kill people and people would kill to obtain some. It saved some people from excruciating pain but caused such pain to be inflicted on others. Slowly she took the hypodermic syringe and drew a large measure into it before pressing the needle to her arm, barely wincing as it penetrated her skin and plunged deep into her vein. She didn't even flinch as she pushed down the plunger and flooded her body with a lethal dose. This drug had taken everything from her and now it was going to take her as well.
Around her was a low whistling noise as the wind blew through the trees of the cemetery but she didn't hear it. She didn't feel the biting chill in the hair, despite the fact that she had left her coat in the car and was wearing nothing more than a simple sleeveless black dress. By rights she should have been freezing but she didn't so much as shudder against the weather. She simply didn't notice. Around her stood her friends and colleagues in various manifestations of shock and distress. Diane was sobbing quietly into her husbands chest, tragedy having temporarily bought them back together, although everyone including the couple themselves knew that it wouldn't last. Jess appeared to be in an advanced state of shock, clutching her baby son's carry chair so tightly that her knuckles had turned white as she struggled to stay in control, a battle that she was fast losing. Behind her, a constant reassuring presence, stood Lola, her feelings betrayed only in the single tear that she had shed during the ceremony. Looking around her she saw that everyone had someone there to support them – Diane had Owen, Jess had Lola, Tricia, Mark and Chrissie had each other. Only she was there alone. No one spoke to her or paid her much attention at all. Today was not a day for apportioning blame although she knew that everyone present held her largely responsible for the tragedy. Blame was the only acknowledgement that she was likely to receive now. Michael hadn't accompanied her to the funeral, reasoning that his presence was better served battling to save her career following the death. He was incapable of understanding that she didn't care now if her career went down the drain. That his support would be worth more to her than any amount of bribery and corruption to prevent her being struck off. Driving to the cemetery, completely alone in her car, she feared that she would be made unwelcome but she wasn't, although you could have cut the atmosphere in the church with a blunt scalpel. Even now as they lowered his body into the ground to the soundtrack of his friend's and family's distress she was receiving reproachful glances and it made her feel physically sick as she did every time she thought about what had happened. About how she could have prevented it if only she had been paying attention rather embroiled in some stupid, unimportant political battle with the hospital trust. All this was happening because she had been too busy fighting to do her job properly.
Her reverie was broken by the gentle meandering of people away from the graveside. Clearly the committal had passed without her even noticing it and now only she and Jess stood by the grave, staring into the hole in the ground, neither of them acknowledging the other's presence until they were standing side by side gazing down at the wooden box in the ground beneath them.
'I'm surprised you came' Jess stated hollowly as she glanced down at her hands, as if she had only just noticed that Lola had discretely taken the baby from her and made her way back to the car, sensing that her step daughter needed some time alone 'it's not like you and he ever got on'
'That's not true and not the point' Connie spoke in a gentle whisper, fearing that if she raised her voice any louder then she would crumble, something which she had been close to since his death 'we may have had our professional differences but I held him in great respect' she added, electing not to share with Jess precisely how close they had been. Jess didn't need to know how much her boss was going to miss the man they had just lowered into the ground. It was not an idea that she would find pleasing or palatable.
'If you gave a damn perhaps we wouldn't be standing here today' Jess added but there was no conviction in her voice. Despite her deep desire for someone to hold responsible, there was a part of her that couldn't apportion the blame entirely to her boss as her friends and colleagues appeared to. Surely the person most to blame was the man who had inflicted the damage in a desperate bid to get what he wanted, not the doctor who had failed to see the signs of a man suffering from severe withdrawal. Whose only crime was in failing to anticipate the desperate lengths this individual would go to simply to obtain a small vial of the elusive clear liquid that the distributed on a daily basis. Connie wasn't the only person to have missed his true ailment – the doctors in the ED and several nurses had also misdiagnosed him as suffering from a heart condition. It had been a hectic day and mistakes had been made. A terrible chain of mistakes that had led to a tragedy.
'I'm sorry' tears sprung to Connie's eyes but didn't spill over. She wouldn't lose her composure in front of anyone, especially not in front of Jess. She hadn't earned the right to grieve for him when she could have stopped him being hurt in the first place. On the other hand, by rights Jess could be breaking down completely and no one would think less of her, but she didn't. Instead she was displaying strength that Connie hadn't credited her with and she had to admit that she admired the younger woman for it. She's always thought that Jess was a good nurse who would always be hampered by her emotions but perhaps she was wrong.
'So am I' Jess whispered as she wrapped her arms around herself, clearly aware of the chill which Connie had not noticed 'I'll see you at work I suppose' she added in a dull monotone, both of them thinking how strange it seemed to be speaking of something as normal as work when it felt like nothing would ever be normal again.
'Work' Connie repeated quietly, unsure whether she would ever be at work again. This error could very easily be at the expense of her career and yet she found that she didn't care. Couldn't care when he was lying in the ground. When he died everything that had been important to her fell away and she was left realising what really mattered in life. Too bloody late, she thought to herself bitterly as she watched Jess retreating into the distance, her shoulders hunched with grief. More grief than anyone so young should ever have to deal with but life was unfair like that.
The unfairness of life was something that Connie had long ago come to terms with – such acceptance was an inevitable part of doing a job in which every day you watched people slip away from terrible diseases. People who died before they had even had a chance to live. Even so, at this moment it hit her afresh just how unjust the world was. In the ground lay a wonderful man, adored by his family and friends, who's biggest failing in life had been a vice with which he did more damage to himself than anyone else. Who devoted his life to saving other people from pain and suffering. Conversely, in a comfortable cell in a remand centre sat his killer, awaiting trial with probably more luxuries than he had possessed before he killed. One day, probably far sooner than he deserved, this man would see the light of day again. He would once again walk amongst innocent people and live a normal life, a privilege that had been taken from the man in the ground in the fruitless pursuit of a drug. That, Connie decided as she stood at the graveside, was the most unfair thing of all.