*Alrighty, let's see how we go with this! I posted a poll on my twitter about possibly doing this fic, I hope it interests you! It's a throwback fic so you'll be noticing some very, very, very old names around and if you're a Casualty fan reading this and know nothing of old Holby maybe it'll encourage you to re-watch the old days. If you liked Sam Strachan's appearances on Casualty, I assure you Connie and Sam in their Holby days are especially fiery! Anyway, enjoy and if you need anything clarifying such as names etc please feel free to message me on twitter ( sofia_casualty). Please review as I'd love to hear what you think and enjoy! Also, any paragraphs in italics are flashbacks.*
The same haunting thought continued to swirl through around in her head the same way her red wine was gently moving in her glass. It was almost as if her own voice was echoing in her brain from that night. The hurt in his voice was etched into her memory forever. She blinked slowly, a tear escaping only to roll painfully slowly down her lightly freckled skin. I just needed to know I could have you. Her petty, power games prevented that night from being the start of something. Her heart ached at the feeling of regret, her conscience fully understanding that she felt something for Will Curtis. He was buried this morning at 9am.
Taking the wine glass to her lips once more she swallowed the remaining amount of alcohol. She was curled up pathetically on her couch, it was nearing 11pm and the house was considerably more empty than usual. Michael's brother had finally finished moving the last of Michael's crap out of the house, since he was in prison there was no chance of him doing it himself and she couldn't stand having it around her any more. Now it was just herself and her things. Her wine and her ugly thoughts.
The funeral was understandably awful. She'd never known a grief like this, to mourn the way she was and have everyone's scathing eyes upon her. On the outside people only saw their combative relationship at work. How hard she was on him, the cruel remarks, the daily taunting but she knew and he knew that it was a caring approach disguised in thorns. When eyes were averted, they'd be flirting and smiling. At times, they'd be within such close proximity to one another she could feel his heartbeat. Nobody saw that. Things were made particularly difficult when his wife verbally attacked her after the funeral service, prompting her to leave out of respect. After all, she couldn't start arguing in defence, what was she supposed to say? Actually, I loved him and the night before he died he was in my bed? Lord knows that would have gone down a treat. No, she had to keep it zipped and be on her way. Cut to real time, sat drinking and crying alone replaying her last encounter with Will. They'd been sleeping around for a few weeks, a well kept secret obviously protected by their display of angry exchanges on the ward. They both knew it was something but with him having a wife and child on the way there was no chance of them becoming anything. He made the mistake of questioning her late one night, laying in bed under the window-framed moonlight.
"What is this?" His eyes flickered over her shoulder blades before him. He was laying directly behind her, facing her bare back with only a thin sheet covering their lower halves.
"What?" The low tone in her voice was like a warning signal sometimes, a way of alerting him to tread carefully.
"This, us. Me and you." He smiled, unable to see her broken expression. Being such a figure of self-assurance made it painful for her to admit to wanting this to be something more than just a quick shag here and there. That she felt for him and wanted him to leave his wife, but she knew it would never happen so she wasn't about to put herself in that vulnerable position of being rejected. She wasn't going to let another man hurt her ever again the way Michael had.
"I just needed to know I could have you." Her jaw clenched upon completing her sentence and the room fell deathly silent. It was quiet before but now the sound of traffic outside seemed to have died completely and his soft breaths behind her ceased to exist. The silence was instead replaced with a sharp exhalation, an irritated sigh as he threw the sheet off of his legs and perched himself on the side of the bed. Grabbing his pants and trousers he began throwing them on angrily. She couldn't move, she didn't want to look at him and show any sign of weakness, longing. Love. Instead, she let him have the last word before he left.
"You just can't stop playing games, can you?" He shook his head after getting his shirt back on. "I thought this was what you wanted?"
The smashing of her wine glass shattered her thoughts immediately, she couldn't stop replaying that night in her head. Over and over and over again. What did he mean? He was prepared to leave his wife? He wanted to be with her too? These were pointless and painful questions that she'd never know the answers to. Sniffling softly she glanced down at the mess she'd made on her kitchen floor, her mind had wandered so far that she couldn't recall leaving the living room. Only coming back to the moment when she dropped her glass on the tiles. Heartache didn't sit well with Connie Beauchamp, not one bit.
"Do you think it's wise to be back so s-"
"Elliot, don't." She snapped aggressively at her dear bumbling friend. Her only friend. "I'm not going to sit at home and wallow, he was my registrar, my colleague just as he was yours." Her heart twisted painfully but her face showed nothing. "And if that's the case are you sure you're not back too soon? Or anybody else for that matter?" Turning the question back on him he merely shook his head in response as he walked along side her to their office.
"No, but I just thought-"
"Well don't, I'm fine. Just let me do my job." Hanging her bag and coat up she readjusted her shirt before sitting down at her desk. This was going to be a long day, she could feel it in her bones. Massaging her temples delicately she only allowed herself this one moment to feel upset before shaking it off and facing the paperwork before her.
"Lord Byrne is popping into Darwin today, he's got some ideas and plans to discuss with us regarding the new Cardiothoracic wing."
"About time, how long has this been in the works now?"
"Long enough." He smiled and took his own seat at his desk. "Are you attending the meeting, the entire board will be present." He smiled, she knew what he was doing but since he wasn't forwardly trying to distract her she decided to let it slip. "Might be a good opportunity to put forward some of your ideas?"
"When is it?" The nonchalance radiating off her words was a good indication to him that she was clearly masking her grief. It was noticeable to nobody else but Elliot, it was as if he could see right through her at times and right now that's exactly what she needed.
"This afternoon in the board room, they'll have food provided-"
"You don't need to tempt me with free food, Elliot. I'm not you." She smiled ever so slightly, still staring at her computer screen.
"Ah." He chuckled sweetly. "Glad to see she's still in there." He'd risen from his chair, files in hand as he reached the door. "Take it easy today." The look in his eye registered with her immediately. He could feel her sorrow but would say no more. There was a silent exchange between them before he left her to it.
Listening to the pen-pushers from upstairs drone on about budget cuts and cost effective movement was almost as torturous as listening to Elliot pig out on the mini sausage rolls he'd attended the meeting for. Sat with her legs crossed she glanced around the room angrily, she didn't even know why but the fact that not one word had been breathed in regards to the passing of Will made her blood boil. Divine intervention occurred at that very moment.
"To finish up this small gathering, we'd like to recognise the devastating loss of one of our own. Will Curtis, as I understand, was an extremely talented young man with his whole life ahead of him."
Lord Byrne continued to blather, although they were kind words, they angered her. He didn't know him, he had no idea how talented he was. It was all for show. To Connie, these people were damned it they did and damned if they didn't, she couldn't help but feel rage no matter what they did or didn't say. In between smaller, more respectful bites, Elliot stole a glance at his friend. She was hurting and although he didn't quite know the extent of it or their relationship, he knew she'd lost a friend. Finishing up his food he tuned back in to Lord Byrne's speech.
"So, to conclude, we've decided to appoint two new Cardiothoracic registrars to Darwin. We want to give aspiring Consultants the same opportunities that our late Will Curtis had, offer them the chance to learn under the best and become the best. This all ties in well with the plans to expand Darwin, with an albeit tragic loss we must look to the future and grow from such circumstances." Frozen in his seat, Elliot was too afraid to look at Connie. He could feel the fury brewing. Half expecting her to interject Lord Byrne, he felt his body relax when she remained quiet.
She remained that way for the rest of the afternoon and upon nightfall they were still occupying their office in silence, the yellow and orange city lights flickering below them in the window.
"Well that's me finished for the night." He scooted back in his chair, turning his computer monitor off before grabbing his satchel. His eyes landed upon her tired frame as she continued typing. "Perhaps we should go for a drink, maybe wind down a bit?" He offered sweetly, not wishing to leave her on her own.
"I'm fine, thank you." Her face barely moved, illuminated by the glow of her computer screen.
"Another time maybe." Smiling sweetly, he looked down and headed for the door. "Don't stay too late." The brief eye contact they shared was her way of answering, he nodded gently and closed the door behind himself. As soon as she heard the click she exhaled shakily, her eyes stinging with the need to weep but she wouldn't allow it. The mere thought of a new registrar had her balling her fists, out with one in with another. It sickened her. One of the two registrars starting tomorrow was in fact Lord Byrne's son, Joseph. Trust him to use such a tragedy to further his son's surgical career. The second name was a Mr. Sam Strachan. Her heart had rejected both names but if she had to choose any it definitely wouldn't be a Byrne.
"Mr. Strachan it is then." She muttered miserably to herself, a glass of wine on her mind already.