The next morning was wet and overcast, though the sun was succeeding in poking through, hinting of a better day. Weather wise, at least.
Callum sat in his car, not quite ready to enter the nick. His brow furrowed, his thoughts still centred on Emma. The place certainly wouldn't be the same without her.
He glanced up; his mouth set in a grim line, catching sight of the reporter doing a news story on Emma. Callum's scowl deepened.
Today would be hard enough, without the local rag making money off other people's misery.
He glanced back at the nick, his thoughts turning inward. Few had ever gotten to know the real Callum Stone; he'd prided himself on being able to read the people around him, but remain a mystery himself. It had suited him fine – until Emma.
Somehow she'd managed to get under his skin in a way no one else had. The more she tried to prove herself, the more he felt drawn to her. The more attracted to her he felt, the more he felt the need to distance her from his methods. She was better than that and in his opinion, better than him.
The slap she had given him, while undercover, had stung in more ways than he cared to admit. She was gutsy; he'd give her that.
He'd let it go, but ignoring a direct order not to follow Andrew Shield, was a different matter. Taking her into his office, intending to haul her over the coals, had instead turned into a kind of dance.
She was a certainly a challenge and he liked a good challenge. He'd felt almost sorry for her, when her shoulders physically slumped when he refused to give her credit on getting a confession and arresting a murderer in one swoop.
Maybe that was why he made the mistake of trying to kiss her, and fell right into her trap. The smirk on her face as she backed away, and walked out of his office, came to mind, unbidden.
He sighed heavily, and grabbing his keys and coffee, headed into the station; stopping short when he saw Gina behind the Front desk, surrounded by flowers from well-wishers. His breath caught, as he stared, for the moment, dumb struck.
Callum had just stepped into his office, still tucking in his shirt, when Sally gently knocked on his open office door.
"How are you feeling, Sarge?" she asked quietly.
"Same as everyone else, I expect," he said, pretending to be busy. He did not want to be discussing this, especially here.
"Have you heard anything else from the hospital?"
He shook his head. "I stayed for a few hours until her parents turned up. She was critical then, and some mention of surgery, but nothing since."
"I hardly slept a wink, last night, " Sally confided, still trying to draw him out.
He stilled, and shook his head. There was no need to tell her of his broken sleep and the dreams that had plagued him, when he had managed to snatch a few hours of sleep. He closed his eyes briefly, remembering the sweat soaking his body and Emma's name a horrified cry on his lips.
Turning, he gruffly said, "Briefing is in five minutes. I'll meet you down there."
Sally nodded, swallowing, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes. "We will get them, Sarge," she whispered, a trace of her old determination edging her voice. "For Emma."
Gina Gold watched from her office as Callum sat down heavily in his chair. He leaned forward and covered his face with his hands, briefly, before dragging them down his face and lifting his head up a few minutes later. Shaking his thoughts from his mind, Callum reached for his stab vest, and headed out on patrol.
Gina noticed he wasn't coping as well as he pretended.
She'd heard that he'd clashed with one of the paramedics dealing with Emma, when he'd wanted to call time on resuscitating the young police officer. He had refused point-blank to give up on her, and administered CPR himself, until the paramedic understood that giving up wasn't going to be an option.
She prayed that Emma would live…and in doing so, somehow lessen his guilt.
With five minutes to refs, Callum pulled the car into St Hugh's. He stared up at the building, his eyes naturally finding Emma's room.
He's hands still gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles turned white. He chewed his bottom lip, deep in thought.
She thought he was bent, so what was he even doing here?
He took a steadying breath as her words crossed his mind. "You're not the man, I thought you were."
He'd blown his chance with her, but found himself contemplating if letting her die would have been simpler. As things stood and she survived, would she report what she had seen at the waterfront with Richard Frost? Or, continue to undermine his authority, and ignore all his orders, knowing that she could, if he expected her silence?
He shook his head slightly. Despite everything, she didn't deserve to get caught up in all of his baggage. She certainly didn't deserve to die because he'd put getting a result first over her safety.
If she lived, he wanted the chance to put things right with her.
He was outside of her room before he knew it. Glancing through the small window, he saw her parents by her bedside, looking rumpled and exhausted.
Her mother glanced his way, as if sensing his presence. He stepped back slightly, not wanting to intrude, as the older woman turned to briefly speak to her husband.
Rising she walked over to Callum, who removed his cap as she drew closer. He took a steady breath, as a fresh wave of guilt swept over him, for taking her away from Emma's side.
"Ma'am, I didn't mean to intr –" he began, but she dismissed his protests.
"It's okay, Sergeant," she replied, with a reassuring smile. "I'm sure her colleagues are every bit as concerned for her was we are. Have you worked with her long, Sergeant,?" she hesitated over his name.
"Callum Stone, Ma'am. Almost a year now. She's a good officer," he responded carefully. "And quite popular with the team."
Her smile brightened. "I'm told it was you that saved my daughter's life," she said, putting the face to the name. "I wanted to thank you –"
Callum waved it off. "I was just doing my job, Ma'am. I don't need thanks." I don't deserve it. It's because of me, she's in here.
She smiled indulgently. "Would you like to visit her? Or do you have any further news?" she wanted to know.
Callum blanched slightly, as his eyes flickered over to Emma's bed. "I just came to see how she was doing," he muttered, suddenly feeling tongue-tied. He was beginning to think a simple phone call would have been much easier.
"She had surgery to stop some internal bleeding, but she's responding to treatment. Dr. Sinclair is cautiously optimistic. Although she's in a coma, they are encouraging us to talk to her." She paused and offered him a sympathetic look. "Surely a little visit won't do any harm, and I'm sure Emma would appreciate it."
Callum's gazed drifted over to the bed again. Frank Keane was watching them, with a look of impatience. He certainly didn't appreciate the intrusion; he felt their situation was a family matter.
Dorothy followed his gaze. "Don't mind him. Truth is we could do with a little refreshment, and I really don't want to leave Emma on her own."
He followed her, with a sense of reluctance, and stood slightly off to the side, as Dorothy spoke briefly to the DCI, who looked at Callum with obvious annoyance.
"Sergeant," he said brusquely, as he and his wife walked past him; gone before Callum could even acknowledge him.
Callum took a moment before approaching the bed. She seemed paler than he remembered; her face almost indistinguishable from the pillow she rested on, the burn on her cheek seeming more vivid because of it.
Her chest rose and fell, in time with the ventilator; the steady bleep of the heart monitor, drumming a beat in his head.
Taking a step closer, he gazed down at her, sick with guilt. "I'm so sorry, Emma," he whispered, hoarsely, his breath catching as he fought back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.
The door opened, and he took a deep, steadying breath, desperately trying to erect a wall around his fragile emotions.
The nurse, "Rachel," by her name badge, smiled at him apologetically, as she picked up the clipboard and began making her half hourly checks.
"She's a fighter," she replied, as she checked the IV. "She obviously has something to live for." She made a few notes, and then, rather hesitantly she asked, "Are you her boyfriend?"
Callum almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of it. He shook his head, his gaze not leaving Emma. "No, I'm way out of her league," he said quietly, smiling despite himself at the brutally honest nature of his admission to a nurse; a total stranger.