TITLE: Rise Up.
AUTHOR: memellymoo.
RATING: PG13
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Casualty or anything related to it, I'm just borrowing them for a short while, I promise to put them back when I'm finished.
SUMMARY: As the clock struck midnight she knew something was wrong. Connie/Grace/Sam
you're broken down and tired
of living life on a merry-go-round
and you can't find the fighter
but I see it in you
1. "But dreams come slow and they go so fast."
Staring at the single, red cupcake Grace bit her bottom lip as her chocolate brown eyes pooled with tears, wiping them away she looked up at the clock.
"It's nearly midnight," she cried rubbing her clenched hands into her eyes to stop the tears from falling. "She hasn't ... why ... she's never ... she's never forgotten my birthday before," she sobbed, picking up the cupcake and throwing it against the wall.
"Gracie," Sam whispered, trying to soothe his distraught daughter whilst silently raging at the woman that had caused it all, the woman who despite his desperate attempts he could never seem to forget.
Pulling her arm free from her father's embrace Grace picked up her phone. "It's Grace. I'm 13 now ... not a baby anymore ... so from now on it's Grace ... I don't want to be Gracie anymore ok? You can't call me that. She calls me that ... so Grace ... I am Grace."
"Ok," Sam nodded. "Grace. I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why your mother –"
Holding up her hand Grace put a halt to his pitiful attempt to try and excuse the actions of her mother, a mother whose presence in her life had been virtually nonexistent since Christmas and the cancelled trip to Aspen.
"She could have called, she always calls but not this year, this year she didn't even send a card ... she always sends a card ... and a present ... she's the best at buying presents ... but it's not about that ... she always calls Dad, always," Grace cried, her tiny frame shaking with the emotion she felt at being so far away from her mother when she needed her the most.
Sam pulled Grace into him so she was sat on his lap and wrapped his arms around her because despite her protests to the contrary she would always be his little girl. "I'll call her."
"She won't answer," Grace sighed sadly almost resigned to the fact that her mother had forgotten her birthday.
"She might," Sam tried, needing Grace to believe him, because the minute she gave up hope was the minute her relationship with her mother was irrevocably damaged and after everything they had been through that was the last thing he wanted.
He knew he was to blame for this mess, at least part of it anyway. When he had taken Grace back to New York he really thought he was doing the right thing. Holby was toxic, everything bad that had happened to both him and his daughter had happened in that place and he was damned if he was going to let it ruin their lives anymore.
Naively though he had hoped that she might follow them that the idea of being a family with them would mean more to her than her job. Of course at first there had been threats of legal action, even an initial motion plea from her solicitor but then it had all just stopped. With a few lines in an e-mail she had told him that she was withdrawing her application for custody and that he was right; Grace was better off in New York, better off without her.
He'd held out the olive branch, booked the cabin in Aspen and told Grace to invite her mother, told her that it would be nice if they could all send the holidays together. After all Connie had promised Grace that when she was fully recovered that's what they would do; ski in Aspen and drink hot chocolate until their stomachs hurt.
He had wanted her there too. He had wanted her to see that even though Grace was ok, that even though she was happy and thriving in New York there would always be something missing and that something was her. He wanted her to realise that they could make it work but that it had to be away from Holby.
She had agreed to come, her flights were booked, they had even offered to pick her up from the airport and take her to the cabin. Grace was so excited she had changed her outfit 7 times, rewrapped her mother's Christmas present 3 times and made a playlist on her phone for the journey to the cabin.
Then exactly 37 minutes before they were due to leave she had called and told them that she would not be able to make it. That something had come up at work. He had hated her in that moment, hated what her actions were doing to their daughter, hated that she couldn't see that Holby City Hospital was not the centre of the world, that she could have a life beyond it, a better life, a life with them.
He had tried to call her back. 7 times the first day, 3 times the next and then once a day for the next couple of weeks. He wanted her to know what her actions had done, that Grace has spent most of Christmas morning in bed and then refused to open her presents, that even now almost 5 months down the line she still hadn't opened them, that she couldn't drink a cup of hot chocolate without crying.
He wanted her to know that their daughter blamed herself, that she cried herself to sleep going over and over all of the hurtful words she had ever said to her mother, every bitter look and cold shoulder and then when she could cry no more she would watch the few videos she had of them together until she fell asleep.
But most of all he just wanted to know she was ok. And he wanted her to know that they missed her.
"What if something is wrong?" Grace asked, breaking the silence.
"If something was wrong we would have heard," Sam tried to reassure her.
Grace looked down at her phone which was open on a picture of her, her mother and Simba. "4 months, 1 week and a few hours. That's how long it's been since we heard from her Dad. She's never been gone that long before. I don't think it's ever been more than a week before ... what if ... I'm worried Dad ... the voicemail, she sounded so scared ... I ...please we have to go and see her. I have to know she's ok."
"Grace we can't just fly to England," Sam argued as much as he wanted to know what was going on he really didn't think flying over there was the best idea not when he had a few more options still to try.
"This morning you said that as it was my birthday I could have anything I wanted, you promised ... and now I'm telling you ... this is what I want. I want to see my mum," Grace pleaded.
Knowing he was fighting a losing battle and that Grace was right, perhaps flying to Holby was the best thing to do, at least that way he could put his daughter's mind at rest and let her see for herself that Connie was ok.
However what he didn't know was that he could not be further from the truth and that for the last 5 months she had been fighting the battle of her life, a battle that even now no one could guarantee she would win. A fight of 1 step forward and 2 steps back as every aspect of her life gradually became taken over by the cancer as the monster continued to grow inside her fighting back against everything modern medicine threw at it.
"Please," Grace begged, turning her head and looking up at him a small smile dancing across her lips, a smile she had inherited from her mother.
Leaning down Sam placed a kiss on the top of her head. "Ok."
"Really?" Grace practically shouted, standing up so she was face-to-face with him now.
"Really," Sam agreed. "Now why don't you go upstairs and pack a bag whilst I see when the next flight is," he instructed as he walked into the study, opened his MacBook and typed something into the search engine, his mind still thousands of miles away.
CASUALTY – CASUALTY – CASUALTY
6 hours, 2 strong coffees and 20000 dollars later Sam and Grace were being settled into their first class seats on the first flight they could get out of New York. A flight that would take them to London Heathrow where he had arranged to pick up a hire car so they could drive to Holby. After that he didn't have a plan, except track down the woman whose actions – or rather lack of actions - had set all of this in motion.
"Grace what did you mean earlier when you said she sounded scared?" Sam asked, leaning over to where his daughter sat with a book in one hand and her ipad in the other.
Taking her headphones off Grace frowned. "Huh?"
"Earlier when we were at home you said your mother had sounded scared," Sam reminded her.
"I told you when I got the message, something was wrong, she ... her voice ... it didn't sound like her ... I mean it was her ... but there was something in it ... something ... odd ... she was scared I could tell, I tried to tell you but you wouldn't listen, you were so mad and angry at her ... so I stopped trying," Grace shrugged.
Sam bit his bottom lip now wasn't the time to start regretting past actions. "Do you still have it?" he asked.
Nodding Grace reached into her bag and pulled out her phone clicking through it for a few minutes she then handed it to him. "You should probably use headphones to listen."
Taking his headphones out of his carry on Sam plugged them into the socket, taking a long sip from the cup of coffee in front of him before leaning back in his seat.
Pressing play he closed his eyes and let the familiar sounds of her voice begin.
"Hello Sweetheart ... I hope you get this message before you get to the airport ... I'm so sorry Darling ... I'm not going to be able to make it this Christmas ... something's come up at work ... Merry Christmas Sweetheart ... I love you."
Listening to it for a second time Sam felt the fear wash over him. Grace was right; something about the whole message was wrong, very wrong. She didn't just sound scared she sounded terrified, her words thick with exhaustion and a million other emotions that he couldn't distinguish but what scared him most of all was the effort each word seemed to take her. An effort that sent alarm bells ringing as her laboured breaths cut through the miles between them as she stopped every few seconds as if she didn't have enough energy to manage a proper sentence.
Something was wrong, very, very wrong he realised as he handed Grace back her phone, trying not to let her see the fear in his eyes as he silently berated himself for ignoring Grace's pleas all those months ago. For not listening to the message when Grace had first received it. But regrets wouldn't change anything all he could do now was close his eyes and pray that when they got there it wasn't too late, that they could still fix this mess and that they still had time to at least try.
CASUALTY – CASUALTY – CASUALTY
Something had told him that trying her house first would be futile, that she wouldn't be there, that even if he was wrong about everything and she was fine it was 3pm in the afternoon so the likelihood of finding her anywhere other than work was practically zero.
"She's going to be so surprised to see us," Grace smiled, her eyes bright with excitement as they stepped out of the car and towards the familiar electric doors.
As Sam watched his daughter practically skip into the hospital he felt sick as he prayed that he was wrong, that the conclusion he had come to on the plane was just fear born from a guilty conscious and that when they stepped into the department they would be able to follow the familiar sound of her high heels before finding her doing what she did best; keeping everyone on their toes.
But the minute his eyes met Duffy's he knew he was right, something was really wrong with Connie, something she had purposefully kept hidden from him and Grace.
"Sam. Grace," Duffy greeted plastering on a smile for the sake of Connie's seemingly oblivious 13-year-old daughter.
"Is she in her office?" Grace asked, her weight shifting from one foot to the other as she struggled to contain her excitement, her anger of just 12 hours earlier barely registering in her emotions as she looked around, desperate to spot her mother.
"Er," Duffy stammered, looking around for someone to come and rescue her. "No. But Charlie is in his."
Sam locked eyes with Duffy and he knew then that of all the scenarios that had been running through his head the reality was going to be so much worse.
Duffy could tell straight away that he knew, perhaps not exactly what but that he could see just by looking at her that things were bad. "Grace how about you and I go and get a hot chocolate eh? I'd love to hear all about New York."
Grace looked between her father and Duffy. "No. What's wrong? Why is everyone being really strange? Something's wrong with her isn't it? Mum ... she's ... something's wrong ... I knew it," Grace realised her anger rising as she directed the last part directly at her father.
"Grace-"
"No," Grace spat, her voice so heavy with venom that the devil himself would have cowered. "I told you again and again and again that something was wrong but you wouldn't listen, you just kept telling me I was being stupid and that it was totally understandable that I would try and make excuses for her, rationalise the fact she chose work over her own daughter. But I knew ... I knew and I let you convince me I was wrong. I'm her daughter ... she's my mum ... I could feel it and I let you ... this is your entire fault," she accused as she pulled her hand free from his and stormed towards Charlie's office.
Charlie almost dropped his cup as his door was pushed open with so much force and anger it actually sent a series of papers flying off of his table. "G ... Grace ..."
"Where is she?" Grace demanded to know as Sam and Duffy came to a stop behind her.
Charlie looked up at Duffy trying to silently find out just how much Grace and Sam knew about the current situation.
Duffy shook her head. "They are here to surprise Connie."
And it was then that he realised even though Grace might have figured out something was wrong she was still in the dark about her mother's health. "Grace. Perhaps you could go and help Duffy outside while I talk to your father."
"No," Grace exclaimed, sitting down in the chair. "I'm 13-years-old, I am not a child, she's my mum, mine, nobody else's so I have more right than any of you here to know what is happening."
"Ok," Sam agreed, sitting down next to her as he made eye contact with Charlie. "You're right. You have a right to know."
Grace nodded trying to make herself appear stronger than she felt because in that moment as she could feel all of their eyes on her she knew everything was about to change.
"I'll leave you to it," Duffy whispered as she walked out of the office gently closing the door behind her.
"Charlie," Sam prompted, unsettled by the older man's silence as he could see Grace's leg bouncing up and down, something she only did when she anxious or scared.
Charlie nodded, licking his suddenly too dry lips. "How much do you know?"
"Nothing," Sam sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed by the admission, after all it was clear that these people knew more about the mother of his child than he did.
"It was my birthday yesterday," Grace began reminding everyone that she was still here. "She never forgets my birthday but yesterday there was nothing, no phone call, no message, no card no ... I knew something was wrong. Dad he ... he did too, even though he wouldn't say it out loud. She would never forget. Never."
Sam nodded in agreement. "Grace is right. When we went back to New York contact was daily, them around September, October time it became weekly and after Christmas ... Nothing. This isn't like her Charlie, she wouldn't back down ... not without a fight, not where Grace is involved."
"Leiomyosarcoma," Charlie said, sounding the word out carefully.
"How bad?" Sam asked, needing to know the facts as the doctor in him took control of the situation, later he could break down but right now he needed to know exactly what they were up against.
Charlie looked over at Grace before facing Sam again. "Bad. I don't know exactly when she was diagnosed but ... it took a while for her to come to terms with it, to accept treatment. Just before Christmas and just after her second round of chemotherapy she collapsed, that's when I found out, er ... it was also the day she was scheduled to fly to Colorado."
"That was 5 months ago nearly," Sam worried.
"She's been in hospital ever since," Charlie explained. "She collapsed because she had contracted endocarditis and was septic. She had a repeat TOE and the tumour had grown, there was also a high suspicion of metastasis in her lungs and her mitral valve was not working due to the location of the primary tumour."
"Cardiac?" Sam guessed.
Charlie sat back in his chair. "It was in her left atrium. She needed surgery to remove the tumour but with the infection, her deranged clotting, liver and kidney function they didn't think she would survive surgery. She discharged herself, made Ethan drive her to London to try and convince a Professor Cornell to perform the surgery. Her condition was critical but they wouldn't operate either, then the tumour blocked her valve and she was in cardiac failure ... knowing that without surgery she would die the Professor had no choice. She survived, just ... but a tissue biopsy confirmed it had metastasised and 6 courses of chemotherapy, a second surgery and multiple infections later ... it's not looking good Sam ... the cancer isn't responding to treatment, she has cardiac failure, pulmonary oedema and she's on dialysis."
"Where is she?" Sam demanded to know.
Looking at the door Charlie nodded towards the stairs. "CCU."
"Daddy," Grace whispered her voice catching on the word. "Is she dying? Mummy ... is she ... am I going to lose her."
Pulling his daughter onto his lap Sam shook his head, he knew that from everything Charlie was saying he should be honest with his daughter, admit to her that there was a very real possibility her mother would not survive this but he also knew that if they lost hope then everything really was over. After all this was Connie Beauchamp they were talking about, she had never lost a fight against anything before. "Not if I have anything to say about it."
"Can I see her?" Grace asked.
"Sure," Sam agreed.
Charlie stood up his eyes fixed firmly on Grace. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, I was up there not too long ago and ..."
"I think it's exactly the right idea. Connie needs to see Grace. Grace needs to see her mother, she needs to be reminded Charlie ... reminded of everything she has to fight for," Sam explained as he took Grace by the hand and directed her towards the lift.
Once inside the lift Sam wrapped his arm around his daughter. "Grace. When you see your mother I need to warn you ... she won't look like she normally does ok. That long word; leiomyosarcoma ... well that's cancer and your mum has been having chemotherapy which has made her very poorly, she'll probably have no hair, she might be smaller and paler than you remember and the cancer ... it's in her heart which means that her heart is struggling to work properly so she might not be able to talk very much either but when you see her I need you to remember one thing ok? She's still your mother and your mother is the most stubborn, determined, strong person I know so if anyone can beat this, she can."
CASUALTY – CASUALTY – CASUALTY
Walking into Connie's private room on CCU Sam stopped, even after his little chat with Grace in the lift nothing could have prepared him for exactly just how different she would look.
Slowly Grace let go of her father's hand and walked towards the bed her mother was sleeping giving her a few minutes to allow herself to get used to all of the equipment that surrounded her before she had to pretend she wasn't scared, to act like nothing had changed and everything was going to be ok.
"What is all of this?" Grace asked her father as Connie stirred slightly, turning her head to the side before appearing to calm once more.
Motioning for Grace to come away from the bed so that they didn't wake her Sam wrapped his arm around her, needing to feel close to her.
"The big machine on the right is called a dialysis machine, because her heart isn't working properly and the chemotherapy they've been giving her is very strong your mother's kidneys are not working like they should – you see the job of the kidneys is to filter all of the bad stuff from our body, stuff we don't need and that could hurt us if we don't get rid of it – so that machine is getting rid of it for her," Sam explained trying to put it into words that a 13-year-old would understand, because even after everything Grace had been through with the crash and her recovery she was still just a 13-year-old girl who was terrified of losing her mother.
"The line in her neck is so that she can get a lot of different medicines at one time because when people are really poorly they need more medicines than their veins can handle so the doctors put it inside, into a larger vein that can handle it," Sam continued as he walked around the bed. "The one in her nose is a feeding tube; chemotherapy makes you really sick, too sick to eat sometimes so in order to keep your strength up they feed you a special type of milkshake straight into your stomach."
Sitting down on the chair Grace pointed at the drain. "I had one of those didn't I?"
"Yes. That's a tube that is going into her lungs to remove any fluid that should not be there," Sam answered.
"Is that her pee?" Grace asked her nose wrinkling up.
Sam couldn't help but smile at his daughter's reaction. "Yes. But how about we don't let on to your mother that you've worked that out ok?"
"Ok," Grace agreed. "She'd be super embarrassed. Is that breathing for her?" she asked, directing her father's attention to the white prongs in her nose that looked like oxygen tubing.
Sam leaned back in the chair, 32 hours without sleep was beginning to catch up with him. "No. She's breathing on her own Sweetie. That's something called optiflow it's oxygen but with a slightly higher pressure than the mask, the machine it's connected too warms it up and adds a little bit of moisture to it so it won't dry up her airways and so it's just like the air we breathe in."
"Do you think she's scared?" Grace worried.
"Probably, not that she'll ever admit it," Sam agreed.
"Are you scared?" Grace asked her father.
Sam looked over the woman in the bed. "Yes. But you know what? It's ok to be scared because sometimes fear makes us strong and even though we're scared we need to be strong because ... she needs us to be strong even though she will probably try and pretend that she's ok and that she can do it on her own but that will just be because she's scared ... and doesn't want us to see that."
"But we won't listen, will we? Daddy please ... promise me that we won't leave ...that we will stay here in Holby at least until she is well enough to come home with us," Grace pleaded.
"I promise. We are not going anywhere, no matter what she says," Sam reassured his daughter.
The moment between Sam and Grace was broken as Connie begin to shift in her sleep before her eyes fluttered open.
"Gracie," Connie whispered, reaching a shaking hand out towards her daughter. "I was hoping I would dream about you again today."
"Mummy," Grace stammered taking hold of her hand and sitting down in the chair nearest the bed.
Connie moved her thumb backwards and forwards against her daughter's hand. "So real ... I can actually feel you."
"It's not a dream," Grace whispered into her mother's ear, reaching up and wiping away her tears. "I'm here. Daddy and I ... we knew something was wrong ... I could feel it ... in my heart ... so we came ... and we're here ... forever."
The corner of Connie's mouth lifted into a smile, a tiny ghost of a smile but even so to Charlie who was watching through the window it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen and made him realise that perhaps Sam was right and that despite Connie's regular protests to the contrary having Grace back in her life was exactly what the Clinical Lead needed.
"Gracie. I have missed you so much Sweetheart," Connie breathed, her voice strained.
Lying her head down onto the pillow next to her mother's head Grace closed her eyes. "It's ok if you call me Gracie," she whispered into her ear. "Just don't tell dad ok? Mummy ... I missed you too."