Hi again.
Hope you enjoyed the first instalment. If not please review and tell me why. I don't mind constructive criticism. I should be doing French homework right now – maybe I could make up for it by writing this in French? No? Okay.
Disclaimer (Didn't put one in the first chapter...but it's here now): I don't own Casualty or any of its characters – only an overactive imagination.
Also, a big thank you to Lisa95 and MissGracieKathy - Chapter 2 is dedicated to you ;)
A few days later...
Lenny
He stirred his coffee lazily. It had been a slow morning for him (well, as slow as it could get in an emergency department) and he needed a caffeine boost to get him through the shift. He felt frustrated. He was stuck in cubicles for the conceivable future for one slip-up. Granted, it had the potential to become an absolutely catastrophic slip-up if Jordan hadn't picked up on it; the man could've fallen gravely ill – or worse. But that didn't stop him from feeling utterly bored out of his mind. Jordan had been surprisingly gentle about it though. There had been a time when he would chew Lenny up and spit him out over the same mistake. Perhaps it was because of Tom. Jordan's new golden boy must have him in a good mood, he thought bitterly. No, that wasn't fair. After all, Big Mac's heroics played a big part too. As did a certain DCI, Lenny thought impishly.
He supposed another new doctor was a good thing, what with Ruth and Jay leaving for their happily ever after, they had been slightly understaffed. He paused, a small smile curling at the corner of his mouth. He sometimes missed the banter between himself and Jay; they had been mates. Maybe not as close as Yuki, but still mates.
He often wondered why everybody kept leaving.
He tapped the spoon on the edge of the mug and left his drink to cool as he went to his locker to retrieve a spare pen. His other had run out in the middle of a discharge form. He found that the nurses and Noel didn't appreciate having pens stolen left, right and centre, so decided to stay in their good books by sticking to his own. He slipped the pen into his scrubs pocket and took out his phone at the same time. He unlocked it to check for texts or missed calls, not that I'll have any, he thought. Outside of work he didn't have many contacts; anybody who needed him he was already working beside.
Linda stuck her head round the door to the staff room.
"The walk-ins are building up in there, people are getting jumpy", she informed him, before bobbing back out quickly.
"Alright, on my way", he called after her, dropping his phone onto his jacket in his locker and hastily slamming it shut. He followed her out to reception, wondering exactly what was going on.
His coffee remained on the worktop and grew cold.
Dylan
"Okay, I need you to calm down", Dylan tried to use level tones he didn't know he had.
"I'm not leaving until that hooligan apologises!" Dylan's angina patient, Mr. Peters, yelled back defiantly, showing no sign of relent.
Unfortunately, neither did the 'hooligan'. "Who's goin' to make me? Eh, old man? Who? Obviously not you!"
The boy, probably no more than nineteen, laughed again. He seemed to be enjoying himself, watching the older man work himself into a rage, even though he himself was clutching a bloodied wrist and had one hell of a shiner. "Go on back to your knitting Granddad; you don't need to worry about me!"
"You insolent-", Peters paused in mid rant, a defeated look on his face.
Dylan had really had enough by this point, "Right, if you want treatment, you leave him alone and sit down or you get out – your choice."
He also wondered whether he was the right person to be dealing with this.
The boy came up close, and even with an eye like a swollen grape, managed to look menacing. "Are you goin' to treat me? Doctor?" he spat out the word and his face twisted like he had a bad taste in his mouth.
Dylan was at the end of his tether and going to come back with a poisonous retort when he heard: "I need some help here!"
Lenny was kneeling on the floor trying to support Mr. Peters, who had slumped onto his knees, taking heavy, rasping breaths. Dylan automatically switched into Medical Mode and in seconds was by his side, checking his pulse and helping Lenny heave him onto a trolley. A number of doctors and nurses had gathered to see what the fuss was about.
The teen just looked on through dark eyes, "Serves the old git right".
A man who had just entered was standing across from the teen down the aisle of the plastic seats, "Excuse me?" he said to the boy, then wearily, worriedly, towards Mr. Peters, "Dad?"
Dylan decided that he had to separate the trio, and fast – Peters Senior wouldn't go any farther than arguing doggedly, but he had a bad feeling that Junior might just overstep the mark. But it had already started.
"You did this to him, didn't you? You pathetic piece of-"
"You wan' a fight? I'll take ya!" the younger man advanced on him, a fiery defiance in his eyes, Peters' son looked less keen but his anger hadn't cooled. His hands curled into fists as the teen stuck his face up close, daring him to throw the first punch.
That is, until Dylan positioned himself between them, his arms up on either side, ready to push them both away like a coiled spring.
"Mr. Peters", he addressed the son first, "Your father needs your support right now, not a scrap in a hospital reception", he said with slight disdain.
Then he turned to face the teen with a pointed look, "And you. I'm sure you don't want to add to that already impressive collection of battle scars, because you're not going to get anywhere with that hand. We'll get you seen to in cubicles, and you can leave, simple as that", he stepped away slowly, letting them recover from their bouts of blind rage.
"Why don't you choose something a little more civilised to let off steam? Like... squash!" he said exasperatedly, throwing his arms up in the air for emphasis as they turned to him simultaneously with confused looks. Dylan walked away, satisfied that they weren't about to leap at each other's throats anymore.
Scarlett looked between the two, attempting to lead the older man to his father (not wanting to be the one to deal with the shady adolescent). Tess waved security that had just arrived away. People sitting around the now slightly uncomfortable pair were still leaning away from them, whispering between themselves.
Noel pursed his lips, cleared his throat hesitantly, tapped the microphone, and broke the awkward silence.
"Jennifer Johansson, a nurse will see you now."
The tense atmosphere calmed as the general clamour of the ED restarted and everyone resumed what they were doing.
Sam had been treating a 34 year old secretary for a badly sprained ankle before she went with Zoe to see what was going on. After prescribing paracetamol and as little movement as possible, she signed the woman off and walked towards the main desk area in the middle of the room. Zoe was checking something on one of the computers and looked up when Sam came up to file the form.
"If I had a pound for every time someone got a little rowdy in here..."she said, shaking her head, "At least Dylan calmed them down before we had another two casualties on our hands, we're busy enough as it is", she said.
Then a look of realisation dawned on her face, "Ah, there we go, she's had Chlamydia. Why didn't she tell me before? There's no point in being so bloody shy in front of a doctor."
Zoe shook her head and went to treat her embarrassed patient.
Sam, meanwhile, had been lost in her own thoughts. The clash that Dylan had averted had struck a chord within her. It was little times like this when she felt proud of her husband. It was like he was the calm, sane half of her. He didn't jump the gun and argue right back like she did when a patent was being difficult. He preferred to make a sly witty comment to amuse himself, she thought with a smile. Not put them in a headlock, she remembered with a grimace. He was always the one to bring her back down to Earth, and her, him. They anchored each other when their tearaway personalities threatened to wash them away. She realised that that was only one of the things she had loved about him. Still loved about him.
It was also little times like this when she wondered what had possessed her to give all of that away.
He placed the mug in the rack to drip dry before drying his hands on a towel and picking up his navy fleece. Big Mac had had an average day, apart from that little display in reception.
He still got a few smiles and a 'Well done' here and there for just being in the right place at the right time for little Will. He liked having made a difference, even if it resulted in a bruised backside.
He hummed gently as he walked past the lockers, until he heard a faint buzzing noise. He held his head a little closer to the lockers and moved along until he had zoned in on the source of the noise. It was coming from Lenny's locker. It stopped, so he straightened up, shrugging his shoulders. He made a mental note to let Dr. Lyons know before picking up his tune where he left off and leaving the staff room, letting the door shut softly behind him.
The phone rang again, but this time there was no one there to hear it.
Oo-er.
Who is calling Lenny? Will Sam and Dylan ever get themselves sorted out? Will Noel remember to take his finger off the microphone switch next episode? ;)
Only time will tell guys.
Till then
Anxious Owl (^,^)
