Wounds – sn fic

by: sifi

Disclaimer: Of course

Love; hangs head

Despair: Check.

--

Laura Finnegan rolled over slowly and peered into the darkness of her room. There was no coherent or structured thought in her head, only a rolling hollowness that alternately made her want to cry or just run until she dropped and could not get up.

For the tenth time in twice as many minutes she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The world shifted and she clutched the mattress but this time she didn't lay back down.

Go… get out now… the voice of desperation urged quietly, as if it was afraid it would waken someone or…. something.

She looked out the window noting the velvet darkness of the sky against the yellow of the streetlights, Yes… before its too late… or too early… go now! came the whisper again.

She folded a tissue, tore off a piece of tape, cut the flow to the I.V. in her arm, removed the catheter from her vein and taped the tissue down.

Only slightly unsteady, she grabbed her overnight bag from the closet and quickly dressed, relieved beyond measure that the final surgery was done and she could get back to the only life she knew anymore.

Tears burned in the corners of her eyes as she looked at the mental photograph of Dean, the look that had been on his face before she'd been called to destroy the gargoyles. She had lots of images of him stored in her minds' eye but this one, this one was one of her favorites. She had no idea what he'd been thinking at that moment, but that soft smile, the one that said 'wow I just got a present in my head' warmed her all the way through.

I miss him…she thought and felt the heat of the tears film over her eyes. He'd been so good to her, calling every couple days to make sure she was alright, to see if she needed anything, offering to be here for this last surgery… she'd smiled and told him, "…that's not necessary sweetie… it's no big deal… I'll call you when they discharge me…" but she had no intention of calling him, and none either of seeing him any time soon.

She checked the room for personal effects once more before feeling her eyes finally overflow as she crept stealthily out of the room, out of Cook County Hospital, and back into the world.

--

Dean shut his phone and frowned.

"What?" Sam asked glancing over the laptop.

"She's not answering,"

"It's probably just off… it is a hospital you know… just call the main switchboard and have 'em transfer you…" Sam suggested.

Dean nodded and dialed. He listened a moment, pressed a button and finally got a person, "Yeah can you transfer me to Laura Finnegan's room please…" then he was holding again.

"She was probably just beat man… four surgeries in two months Dean… it's gotta take a toll y'know?" Sam offered. He knew Dean had wanted to be there for her, especially for this last one that would finally set everything to rights back in her body but she'd somehow managed to persuade him it wasn't a big deal. Sam couldn't help but wonder if she'd 'influenced' him but he didn't think so. That didn't seem her style.

"…I don't understand… how is that possible?" Dean asked, agitation evident in his tone and garnering Sam's curious gaze, "No… I'm family…" he snapped and listened a moment before his face twisted, "What the hell kind of place are you people running there?... At least tell me if she had the surgery…uh huh… no… nevermind… thanks…" and he snapped the phone shut before meeting Sam's eyes with a confounded expression on his face.

"She's gone… the a.m. shift nurse went on her rounds and Laura was gone… sometime in the night…" he shook his head, "…You think she could've taken off that quickly? I mean I'm the first one to get my butt out of any hospital but… that's… fast…"

Sam nodded and shrugged, "She probably just dragged herself to a motel or something so she could get some real rest… you know how it is in hospitals, you're lucky if you can get a couple hours sleep before someone's bugging you about something…"

Dean shrugged, "Yeah… that's true… and we're not talking about your average girl either here…"

"You mean YOUR average girl…" Sam smirked and received a pillow in his face for the trouble, "Just leave her a message… she'll call…she can't ignore family right?" he grinned and received Dean's last pillow.

"Shaddahp…" he grinned and dialed her cell, "Hey Laura, it's me… just wondering how you're doing… give me a call when you can…" he didn't notice Sam watching as he opened his mouth to say something more then snapped it shut again and swallowed, "… kay… bye,"

"So… where are we heading?" he asked stretching out on the bed, waiting for the rundown of possible cases.

"Well, we've got a guy who drilled a hole in his head to let the demons out…." Sam started.

"Yeah like that's gonna work…" Dean scoffed looking at Sam expectantly.

"Then there's the guy who claims he gets torn up regularly by the ghost of a witch who was killed on his property back in the 17th century…"

Dean shook his head, "Leave it for Ghost Hunters… what's behind door number three?"

"A woman in Southern Illinois went missing for three days, when she returned she had no recollection of those three days…"

"So what we're doing alien abductions now?..." Dean challenged.

Sam cocked his head to the side and smiled, making his big brother wait for it.

"Sam?" he asked, intrigued by the silence.

"When she turned up her body had aged thirty years…" he smiled.

"Oooh… so you wanna quest the map…" Dean sat up as Sam held up the two pieces of paper, "That's my little college boy…" he grinned and rolled languidly off the bed as Sam wafted one of the pillows at his head.

--

Adrienne Stevens stood at her dresser brushing her long, now gray hair. She knew she was twenty three but she was amazed by how much she looked like her mother with her new crows feet and smile lines. If I could remember what happened… if I could remember anything God I look like I'm fifty five… how can a person just lose thirty years of their life? This can't be happening, this can't be real… this kind of thing just does NOT happen in real life…but the silvery strands of tears flowing down the new crevasses in her cheeks told a different story. Somehow, her best years had been stolen from her.

How am I going to explain this? How am I going to…when Freddie comes home how… will he even want me anymore? I'm an old lady… he's not even thirty himself…I could dye my hair… it is kinda pretty though… but I'm not ready to be a white haired old lady! but these lines… these… Oh God please someone tell me this is just a dream… She wiped at the tears and wondered if it was worth it. Freddie, her husband of only two years had married a vivacious young woman, now when he got home from overseas he'd have a wrinkly old lady? He'd recover quickly enough if she just… took herself out of the picture. She was sure of it.

--

In the city of Chicago, anything located South of Roosevelt Rd. is considered the South Side. It's one of those areas where a person waits inside for a cab, then dashes out when it arrives, especially at night. During daylight hours the rule is the same but a little more relaxed. The deep of the night on the South Side belongs to something sinister that draws on the worst in human nature and washes it to the surface. Cook County Hospital is located, technically, on the South Side.

In her street clothes no one recognized her or realized she'd been, only a few minutes ago, a patient. She left through the ER where she was just another sad sack in need of something and banking on the county to pay for it. Stepping out into the night she breathed in the bus fumes, listened to the sound of the 'L' grinding on its tracks in a quiet moment and wondered where she should go. The staples in her belly gave a twitch beneath the gauze dressing and she decided to turn left, or to head West. There weren't many pedestrians out at this time of night, most of them were standing on the platform waiting for the train or dashing to somewhere. Wrapped gently in the darkness Laura ran her hand along the building for stability and strolled down the street, her mind comfortably quiet as she navigated her surroundings. I can pick up the car another time. She thought absently and continued to walk wondering where she'd wind up, but not really caring either. In just a few hours the world would wake from its sleep and this side of town would bear a mask of normalcy. In just a few hours the a.m. duty nurse would make her rounds and notice her patient was missing. She'd open the chart, note that the patient had disappeared in the night and submit it to the administrator who would initial the report then have the chart filed in Medical Records. And, in just a few hours, as Dean Winchester was leaving a message in her voice mail box, Laura Finnegan would begin to run.

--

tbc?

very short beginning chapter…almost like a prologue… Thanks Beloved.

sifi