Not that happy with this because I am ill, but it is what it is.
This prompt was given to me months ago, and I forgot who by - sorry! Feedback / suggestions / prompts are welcome / encouraged. A part two will be written in the foreseeable future. Hope you enjoy!
"Nurse Freeman - my office, now."
When it came to summoning her colleagues, Connie had perfected that excessively scathing tone. It still made Rita's heart flutter, somehow.
She sighed, and placed the files she was holding amongst the chaos of the nurse's station. Connie had no doubt noticed the disarray of the department, and decided to chide Rita in order to spark a wave of more efficient practice – a sensible suggestion in theory, but they did not have the required number of staff to sustain Connie's optimal pace.
Rita decided to combat her routine impoliteness with impeccable manners, and walked over calmly. She could not afford to snap at the clinical lead, even under a significant amount of stress, and being passive seemed to be the closest she could get to defiance without losing her job.
She closed the office door quietly behind her, and braced herself for the incoming lecture. Connie's gaze was lowered, focused on files of her own, and she was scribbling numbers, names and notes across them – seemingly uninterested in the conversation they were about to have.
"I've been invited to a conference in Glasgow. I want you to accompany me there."
Rita was taken aback.
"Why me?"
Connie ceased writing, and pointedly made eye contact.
"It's about nursing reforms, and you are a nurse - correct?"
Rita fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course Connie would make her perfectly reasonable question seem ridiculous.
"Okay. When is it?" she said, reserved. As difficult as interacting with the ice queen was, she was not ready to eliminate the prospect of spending an extended period of time with her.
"I'll email you the details tonight. Thank you, nurse."
And with that, Rita was dismissed. She exited the office, collected her files, and tried to decide whether she was giddy or nauseous at the prospect of accompanying Connie on a conference call. Unfortunately, the chances of her accidentally revealing the affection she was harbouring for her professional superior seemed cruelly high.
She decided to let the prospect of her company to improve her mood throughout the shift, but ultimately cancel before it became a necessary, and dangerous, appointment.
Two weeks later…
Rita could never bring herself to cancel. Their taxi pulled up alongside the hotel.
Their journey had started early in the morning, and been taken in conversational silence. On the train, Connie had spent the first hour texting frantically. Then, she had taken out her laptop and started keenly tapping at the keys. Eventually, the lack of internet connection shifting her emails took its toll, and Rita watched her resign herself to simply sitting back, and staring out of the window.
Rita had listened to music for the duration, ignoring the intermittent disapproving looks from Connie when she starting humming alongside the song she was listening to - a force of habit. She had fallen asleep sometime after Connie put her laptop away, lulled by the steady movement of the train and Connie's uncharacteristic stillness – so strangely serene without her work schedule, and so beautiful despite having to be ready at an obscenely early hour.
She had woken up, a couple of hours later, to Connie staring at her. The consultant quickly snapped her gaze away upon making eye contact, but not before Rita had noted the occurrence. Rita, not quite roused from unconsciousness, had then allowed her imagination to convince her that there was a certain softness to Connie's expression, one of caring, and smiled gently to herself before a voice on the intercom announced their imminent arrival.
Now, they were harshly dragging their suitcases towards the automatic doors of an upscale hotel. Or rather, Rita was. Connie had marched ahead when the taxi driver decided to take responsibility for her luggage, and Rita had to stifle a laugh when she realised Connie's presence struck fear into the hearts of everyone – not just her staff.
The pavement was frosty; verging on dangerous to walk on. Rita thought that she may have underestimated the stereotype of Scottish weather as she shivered in her leather jacket, making a beeline towards the warm hotel interior. The relief of central-heating was quickly pierced by the icy tone of Connie coming from the front desk.
"Fine" she spat with venom, and the receptionist looked startled. "Just give me the key."
Judging from the single key produced from the exchange, their booking had become a victim of miscommunication. Rita supposed that Connie could have argued and gotten her way, but they were both weary from hours of travelling. Therefore, she followed Connie upstairs without question.
Upon entering the room, Rita was thankful to see two single beds – thought the prospect of sharing a room with Connie still seemed quite daunting. Rita considered how to avoid Connie's personal space for the rest of the day and, within half an hour, announced that she was going to go for a walk.
The evening drew on, and snow began to fall. The distinctive drop in temperature forced a shiver through Rita's spine. She was currently strolling through a park. Being outside was an act of self-preservation – necessary if she was going to avoid embarrassing herself by staring too much, blushing too fiercely or standing too close.
Unfortunately, those were the three reactions she had when Connie had thrust her long blue coat in her hands, insisting that it was more practical than the thin jacket Rita was wearing. She was right, and the coat was undeniably warm, but the scent of Connie's perfume made it difficult for Rita to clear her head.
The park was in the midst of being grasped by winter. The cold caught her breath, and turned it into smoke. Rita settled on a bench which was coated in frost, and considered her attraction to the most unavailable woman she knew – not to mention the coldest. Sitting outside in Glasgow in the middle of winter seemed positively cosy compared to the atmosphere of the emergency department when Connie was in a disagreeable mood. Rita huffed a bitter laugh at the thought.
There was no superficial reason why she should be attracted to the ice queen, but there was warmth behind those eyes. The desire for a perfect department, the despair when Grace left for New York, the countless hours of overtime – there had to be a substantial sense of caring driving her towards every goal. There was something more to Connie than she presented, and Rita wanted to kiss her until the heat of the moment melted the façade.
The sun was setting, and the temperature was dropping even further. The snow did not seem to have any intention of stopping. Rita tucked her chin into the collar of Connie's coat, breathing in deeply, and wiggled her chilled fingers inside her gloves. It was becoming evident that she could not stay here forever, and she supposed sitting across the room in silence was a relatively safe option. Rita stood up, and started walking slowly back to the hotel.
When she quietly entered the room she saw Connie had spread a substantial amount of paperwork across the small desk by the window. Of course she would never leave any work behind, Rita thought to herself – exasperated, but vaguely impressed by her unwavering dedication. She would have surely done the same if her work did not require the presence of a patient.
"It's snowing outside" Rita blurted out.
She was not sure why she had felt the need to break the silence with such an obvious statement. Perhaps it was easier than a usual greeting – there was less expectation to attach emotion to the statement. They were here for work, after all. A conference call. Connie looked up very deliberately.
"I did notice."
Rita had not expected an answer any more profound, but she was disappointed anyway. She became aware that the snow had melted on Connie's coat, making it damp, and the water had seeped into the one layer she was wearing underneath it. For some reason, it had not occurred to her to dress any more suitably – she obviously had not accurately predicted the ludicrous amount of time she would spend outside avoiding Connie.
She shrugged off the blue coat and hung it up quickly, not wanting to be responsible for ruining a fundamental piece of Connie's wardrobe. The result was her standing in a white long-sleeved t-shirt which had become translucent with damp, and she was unquestionably surprised when this evoked more of a response from Connie than her attempt at conversation. Her eyes had widened, and she had swiftly looked back at her work.
Rita paused momentarily, and then busied herself with the contents of her suitcase. What was that supposed to mean? The amount of times that they had cut off patients' clothes in order to access injuries was impossible to count, and now Connie seemed to be bothered by Rita being fully clothed, albeit not completely modest.
Upon seeing the mirrored wardrobe conveniently placed ahead of her, Rita decisively pulled a jumper from her suitcase and decided that there was nothing to lose, nor any course of action she could not explain. She removed her damp t-shirt slowly, and eyed Connie's reflection in order to gauge her reaction, and find an answer to her suspicions.
In return, Connie shuffled some papers noisily to feign work – but her gaze drifted towards Rita. Hey eyes wandered up and down her body, and the gesture sent a shiver through Rita which had nothing to do with the cold. Connie's lips parted, and Rita desperately wanted to turn around and kiss her.
"If you insist on contracting hypothermia, could it be after the conference?" Connie said, softly.
The gentleness of her voice made Rita feel guilty about humouring herself. Connie was evidently tired, and there was nothing between them apart from her imagination. Rita quickly pulled her jumper on, and sat awkwardly on her bed in silence.
They both took their separate rest early in preparation for the conference the following day.
The next day they stood, dressed and ready, outside the main entrance, but the weather was remorseless. The only forgiving aspect was that the abundance of snow highlighted the patches of black ice, which would perhaps prevent a few accidents. Overall, the world had turned to monochrome. Not even brightly coloured hats and scarves could be spotted through the swirling snow, because other people were being sensible.
In fact, it seemed ridiculous that they had made it this far, ready to leave, but neither of them had spoken since waking up. Connie was standing proudly in Louboutin's even now, but she was eyeing Rita with a reluctant expression – as if waiting for the nurse to express weakness in the face of adversity before her.
"You can't wear those all the time, you know" Rita said in acknowledgement.
Connie looked confused until Rita nodded at her shoes, and then she smiled – raising her hand to tousle her hair, and cover her face as to make the positive reaction less obvious.
"Try me" she replied.
Rita smiled at her assuredness. Warmth spread through her, and suddenly being with Connie seemed a lot more desirable than the unrelenting cold.
"I guess we could cancel on the grounds of unforeseen circumstances" she offered.
Connie paused, considering any other course of action, and then nodded, seemingly satisfied that their attendance could be excused in such a storm.
Rita turned to walk back inside, but her foot twisted too far on the ice and she slipped. It seemed that even the rational decision to wear flat shoes did not matter in this weather. Connie reached out instinctively to catch her, and Rita grabbed hold of her forearms to stop herself from toppling over.
"Sorry. Thanks" she said, after finding her feet and loosening her grip on Connie.
"Any time" said Connie, face noticeably flushed. They were still holding each other's arms, though the moment had long passed. Prompted by politeness rather than her personal desire, Rita let go reluctantly. Connie raised her hands to fiddle with the buttons on her coat, suddenly refusing to make contact, and started walking back cautiously.
In the time it took them to reach the lift, it had become apparent that the tension between them had heightened dramatically, and it became impossible to ignore. Upon entering their room, Connie stood with a diary in her hand – seemingly unsure of what else to do with herself. Rita stood near the door, similarly with no sense of direction.
They stayed like that for a while. Rita pondered Connie's behaviour over the past day, and Connie flipped through the pages of her diary – searching for a date that would never be found.
Rita was not sure what made her move – if it was the suggestion that Connie was attracted to her, or the warmth she felt for the clinical lead herself. Whatever the case: Rita purposefully walked towards Connie, lifted her hand and made a motion as to brush a snowflake from Connie's hair.
In reality, there was no snowflake. They had all melted immediately after retreating into the warmth of the hotel, but Rita had to convince herself that there was a reason for her actions to give her courage, and to give her an excuse if she was rejected. In reality, Rita had simply caressed Connie's hair. Connie stiffened at the contact, and looked at her with wide eyes.
Rita felt as though she should break the eye contact, move away and retreat back into the professional titles they held. Yet, she did not want to, so she bravely held Connie's gaze, challenging. Nothing was going to stop her from reaching the truth.
Generally, to challenge Mrs Beauchamp was to cause friction – bad tempers, snapping and threats. Rita had been on that side of her before, when Connie had threatened to remove her from the very department. To challenge Mrs Beauchamp like this, however, was different. They were so unbearable close and merely dancing over what had not been said, causing sparks to fly.
Rita, taken by a surge of adrenaline, leant up and kissed Connie – a brush of lips that barely counted as contact. They hovered with their faces close for a moment, and then Connie leaned forward to initiate contact again. Rita's pulse was racing. What was so forbidden had suddenly and unexpectedly become reality. They wordlessly deepened the kiss, and Rita began to run her fingers through Connie's curls.
Connie reached her neatly manicured hands under Rita's blazer, and pulled her closer from the small of her back. Rita arched into the touch, relishing in their closeness. She knew that it would be right, ethical even, to pull away, and to preserve the professionalism of their relationship – but she did not want to, however selfish that may seem.
Connie suddenly pulled away, but her hand was still clasped around Rita's waist. She seemed to be expecting the nurse to pull away, but she was openly leaning into her.
"Nurse Freeman. I had no idea …"
Rita could not even make herself annoyed at such a formal form of address. She leant up towards the taller woman until her breath was warm against her mouth.
"Connie, I think you can call me Rita."
And then they kissed again.