Caroline's turn. Forgive any murdering of characters, I tried to be as accurate as I could. Would love constructive critiscism.
As mentioned, I don't own Green Wing or any of the characters.
Caroline sighed and stared at the ceiling. He was there, next to her; there, in her bed, but she still wasn't sure why.
Why had she chosen him? There were infinite arguments for and against – reasons why Mac was better than Guy, reasons why Guy was safer than Mac, and yet none of these things had played any part in her choice. She didn't know why he lay sleeping beside her – why anyone would want to sleep beside her was enough of a mystery to Caroline – yet there he was, and he was happy. His face formed a gentle smile while he slept: a content, knowing grin, and Caroline didn't know if she liked just how satisfied he seemed. Wasn't he questioning things like she was? Wasn't he wondering why he now slept in her bed, when she could have easily chosen the other man for any one of a thousand reasons?
She watched as the lights of a passing car drew patterns across the plaster. Of course, if you'd asked her a mere month ago, Mac would have been her first choice. Her only choice. He was the one that she had put everything on hold for, sacrificed so many nights thinking about. And he had felt so right when she was with him, with his crooked smile and his frustrating hair always hiding those eyes. The way he would never look at her while he was speaking in case he said the wrong thing.
But then something happened, something changed and she didn't feel quite so certain anymore. It was like he'd found something more important to occupy his thoughts, and Caroline simply didn't rate anymore. Not that she wanted to be the centre of his universe…did she? She'd asked herself these questions before, almost every night as she lay alone in bed, and even now that she'd made her decision, she still wondered what she wanted.
She was never sure about Guy. He'd always been so able to convince her of his sincerity and then turn around and destroy it all. There were so many times when she wanted him to hold her forever, kiss her the way that made her legs melt and her mind go fuzzy, just like all the clichés said it was supposed to. She'd never admit it, but she loved the way he fought for her, the way Mac never did. The awkward times just before theatre when he would sidestep and corner her, trying to seem aloof, and asking her far too desperately if she'd decided what 'maybe' meant.
'Maybe, Guy, that's what it means.' And she hid a grin and pushed his face away, realising almost too late that it was so close to her own, his eyes fixed and wanting on her lips.
She toyed with the idea that she was just in love with being wanted. In love with the way they would argue about her when they thought she wasn't there.
'Oi! Ginger ponce! Don't know if you've heard but the stats are in: women prefer dashing Swiss anaesthetists to ginger lady-boy surgeons. Can't argue with that logic,'
'Ah, yes. I did hear something about a worldwide census. Of course given that result, I can only assume the question was "who would you rather feed head-first into a mincer"?' Mac drawled with a look of feigned interest.
Guy's giant grin faded as he realised just what Mac was implying. Caroline watched from the doorway as his face contorted in an effort to think of some witty retort.
'Yeah well…at least I don't have bollocks like…a… kinder egg.'
'What does that even mean, Secretan?'
'It means that Caroline is coming back to my place tonight, that's what it means,' Guy said. Caroline could feel heat rising in her face – a combination of embarrassment and anger.
'See, here I was thinking it was her house that you were living in?'
'Still the same thing though isn't it. Still more than what you've got.'
And Caroline had to flee as Mac came wheeling out the door, with a face somewhere between miserable and furious.
She found herself smiling at the memory. Something about Mac's face every time he realised that Guy was living under her roof made her feel like she should run after him, swearing at him for being so private, so scared of what things might turn into. But, just like she'd done every time before she'd turn and bite the tip of her pen, gagging every curse she wanted to throw his way and carrying on.
She turned towards the gently breathing figure beside her, and he stirred, sensing she was watching him.
'Caroline?' His deep voice was barely a whisper. 'Go to sleep you silly woman. We've got to be in theatre early.'
'I know,' she sighed. 'It's just…I've decided.'
'Decided what?'
'Maybe. Maybe means yes.'
