Part One of something I wrote a little while ago and uploaded to tumblr, after we first suspected something might happen to Dylan in the wedding explosion. It's only very short (the next part is a little longer) but I wanted to upload it on here as it seemed like a good time, after the cliffhanger we were left with last night! I'll warn you now, it sort of made me cry to write it, so a mascara warning is in order!
Zoe stood in the Peace Garden behind the hospital, holding Dervla's lead so tightly her knuckles were white. The grass was damp: it hadn't long since rained, but this didn't stop her kneeling down in front of a tree, only planted yesterday. Its full height was only about four feet so far, but they all knew it would grow tall and strong, a constant reminder of the friend they'd lost. A plaque, set in the soil at the base of the tree, released the lump from Zoe's throat and she sobbed freely, not caring if there was anyone around.
Dr Dylan Keogh – one of the finest doctors we have ever had the privilege to work with. Forever in our memories, and in our ED.
She knew him inside out, and it wasn't fair that his ashes now lay around the roots of this tree. She tried to remember all of their sarcastic remarks, the conversations that had made her smile every day, but there were too many. The times she'd emptied his pockets of change for chocolate, midway through horrendous night shifts. The long nights spent together on the boat, splitting a bottle of wine over films they'd already seen twelve times before.
Kneeling on the grass, Zoe nearly folded in two, crying so hard it hurt every fibre of her body. Why? Why him? He deserved to live, the people of Holby deserved to have a doctor like him in their hospital. He had an instinct most of the team couldn't understand, a sense of knowing when something was right. They'd learned not to question his judgement and diagnoses – there was no point, he was always right. Difficult patients had never phased him, he was like a horse with blinkers, blind to the situation outside of the symptoms.
Zoe felt a furry head on her shoulder. She turned and wrapped her arms around Dervla, nestling her face in her impeccably clean fur. She'd been bathed the night before the wedding, when an ivory ribbon had been tied in her collar. Zoe had the ribbon tied around her wrist, it still smelled of the boat. And him. The closest friend she'd ever had. Dervla moaned, a noise like crying, and Zoe knew she was hurting too. Dylan had adopted her as a puppy, they were stronger soulmates than any humans she knew. Zoe wanted to tell her that it would be okay, that one day they'd wake up and feel better. But she couldn't lie to herself. There would never be a day when she wouldn't walk into the ED and expect to see him escaping Connie's eagle eyes with a cup of coffee, and usually a second one for her. She'd have to buy her own coffee every day now. She tangled her fingers in Dervla's fur, never wanting to let go because this feeling hurt like hell, and it would never go away.