Inspired by the preview clip of episodes 13-25. Rated for themes of a sensitive nature. Reviews would be gratefully appreciated. On a side note, Twenty Four Seven will be updated in the next couple of days.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Casualty belongs to the BBC. No copyright infringement intended.
Lighthouse
Your mouth is incredibly dry, your throat feels raw and scratchy. Those are the first things that you notice as you slowly return to the land of the living, becoming aware of your surroundings for the first time in hours. You inch your eyes open groggily only to whine in distress and jam them shut again as the harsh hospital lighting hits you immediately. Why do the lights have to be so bright? You can sense that you're not alone, the warmth of a hand over yours gives it away and that alone makes you desperate to wake up properly. So you try again. This time it's a lot easier and your eyes adjust to the light automatically. You blink once, twice, clearing the fog that seems to have settled around your brain. Everything comes into focus and you roll your head to the side, your eyes landing on his face. Worry is written all over his handsome features but he still manages to give you a smile and you breathe a sigh of relief. He's here and you can relax.
You're alive. You're back in a hospital bed and you're really not sure how you feel about that. It's not the first time you've found yourself here because of your own stupid, rash actions. You hate hospitals, you never minded too much if you had to hang around them for professional reasons but when you have to be a patient, you really despise them. You've had to learn to put up with them over the last few months but even that experience hasn't softened the blow. It all went wrong. If it had gone to plan then you wouldn't have woken up. A sudden surge of anger flares up inside of you. You're angry at yourself, at whoever found you. It's not fair. You can't even get that right.
Nick unknowingly breaks through your rapidly darkening thoughts a few moments later as the grating sound of the chair sliding across the floor echoes through the room, caused by him shifting closer to your bed. You glance at him as you feel his hand move to your shoulder, hoping that your thoughts aren't reflected on your face, in your eyes. His fingers inch under your long dark hair and he begins to gently massage the nape of your neck, drawing tiny circles on your skin. His touch is comforting, reassuring and you know then that he's not angry with you. That alone is enough to calm you, distract you from the thoughts that are running through your mind at the speed of a runaway train. "Why?" He asks you quietly, his voice full of pain; the inevitable question hanging in the air between you both. "Please love, just tell me why."
You know exactly what he's referring to even if he doesn't explicitly say it and shame floods through you only to be replaced by guilt as you gaze at him for a little while longer, seeing the hurt in his chocolate brown orbs. You see the exhaustion that lines his face, the redness of his eyes. You're responsible for his pain and that hurts more than anything else in the world. You can't believe you would have done it and you honestly hate yourself for trying. It wasn't the answer, it could never be the answer but you've been feeling so broken inside for the last few months and you haven't been able to put how much you've been hurting inside into words so in that moment of despair, it had seemed like the only way to put an end to your torment.
"I-I'm sorry," you begin quietly, your voice hoarse and your throat burning fiercely as you try your hardest to keep the tears at bay. You don't want him thinking any worse of you. "I wanted it to stop, I just wanted to stop hurting and I couldn't see another way. It was stupid, I know that but I just needed everything to stop. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Your voice cracks on the last few words and you pause in your explanation, bowing your head and squeezing your lips together tightly to try and ensure that the building tears don't overflow and cascade down your cheeks. You're aware that you've divulged more than you meant to but you don't care any more. You can't go on like this.
His hand stills on your neck as you finish speaking and for a single, frightening, heart stopping moment, you think you've lost him. But he doesn't get up and walk away like you are expecting him to. Instead, he just takes your left hand and presses a tender kiss to your fingers as if he is trying to shield you from any further pain. He doesn't question you further just yet, something you're incredibly grateful for. "You scared me to death sweetheart," he murmurs, his tone impossibly soft. "If I'd lost you-"
You nod, managing to cut him off without having to say a word. Guilt tears through you, his words hitting you like a ton of bricks. You hadn't thought it through properly, you hadn't thought about what it might have done to him if you'd succeeded. All you had wanted was for your pain to stop and although that was understandable, you hate yourself for not stopping to think about him. It had been a rash decision, admittedly you had been thinking about it for a few days but when it came down to it, it had been another one of your reckless decisions.
"I'm sorry," you whisper again, the tears that are shining in your eyes finally overspilling and trailing down your cheeks in silent rivers. His free hand goes to your cheek, his fingers deftly but gently wiping away your tears as they fall.
"Promise me something?" He questions, his own eyes glassy with emotion. "Promise me that you'll talk to me?" His eyes search yours for the truth, his intense gaze burning into yours. You know what he's asking you and you know now that you won't try it again. You had woken up and initially you had been angry because you were still here, still alive but now, after a failed attempt, after this short conversation with the man you would do anything for, the man you love, you think you're beginning to realise that you want to live. Because no matter how bumpy the road might be, how painful, how difficult it is to live right now, you realise that you're only focusing on the bad things. It's a natural reaction but you've always been able to see the positive side to things and right now, you're forgetting the good things. They might be few and far between but if you look closely, you'll find something to fight for. You've still got him and you'll find a way through somehow because you always do.
You nod again. "I promise." You utter those two words with utmost sincerity, your voice trembling as another tidal wave of emotion builds up inside you.
Nick shoots you a tiny smile causing relief to vaguely replace the guilt that you feel. He knows. He stands up, pushing the chair back with his foot so that he can move closer to you. A sob escapes from you as he encases you in his arms and you settle into his warm embrace. That's all it takes for the emotion that you've been holding back to be released and you continue to sob brokenly into his shirt, clinging on to him tightly with your hands as if you're afraid that he'll disappear if you let go. He presses a kiss against the top of your head, his other hand rubbing your back soothingly. It's a release that's needed, a release that's well overdue. You've been bottling everything up for months, hiding how you really felt from him and it's drained you. Sapped the last of your energy.
He holds you against him, encouraging you to let it all out and occasionally pressing a series of kisses to the top of your head. You cry for what seems like an eternity, your sobs punctuated by several, muffled, repetitive apologies until you think that you can't possibly cry any more than you have already. Exhaustion begins to tug at you as your tears slowly dry up until you're resting silently against his chest, unable to speak, unable to do anything. It's only then that he breaks the embrace to lower you back onto the bed – you can't even recall the moment you went from lying down to sitting up. The sheets are tucked in around you and then he digs into his pocket and pulls out an unopened packet of tissues. With great care, he dabs at your eyes, your cheeks, removing any trace of your tears. He squeezes your fingers reassuringly and then just as you're about to drift off to sleep, he dips his head so that his mouth is next to your ear.
"We'll get through this together," he promises, keeping hold of your hand. His warm breath tickles your neck. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. I love you." Somehow he knows your fears without you having to tell him.
Those three simple words are said with such love, such honesty that it's enough to cause another wave of emotion to swell inside of you. Somehow you manage to force it back down. "Love you," you mumble, not at all sure if your words are coherent or not. You're so tired and you just want to sleep but before you can, you feel that you have to apologise once again for everything you've put him through in the last twenty four hours. "I'm sorry."
You hear the low rumble of his voice as he says something in reply but you can't quite make out what he said. He strokes your hair and just as your vision darkens and you stop trying to fight it, he leans down to brush his lips against your forehead once again. You drift peacefully off into sleep, safe in the knowledge that he's there and he's not angry with you. The range of emotions that you've experienced in the last few hours has exhausted you but for the first time in months, you feel calmer, more at peace with yourself. You don't quite feel as troubled. You're not completely there yet, that's going to take time but now you feel that you have something to fight for, that you're taking baby steps in the right direction. Those feelings of helplessness, despair that have overshadowed you for the last few months have subsided a little and are slowly being replaced with sheer determination. You don't know if it'll last but at the moment at least, you feel somewhat like your old self again and nothing, no-one can take that away from you. Sometimes it takes a near miss to make you realise what you really want.