CHAPTER 2- That Look On Your Face.
Greg pushed open the doors to the resuscitation room with his elbows, tugging off a pair of bloody, blue latex gloves. He pushed his hair out of his face with his wrist and slung the gloves into a bin. Alice was sat behind the reception desk, her fingers typing madly on the keyboard. He carried on straight past her. Two figures approached him in green uniforms- that laugh, the elfin-like features. A lump grew in his throat again, and found himself only able to conquer it by running into the mens' toilets. He could feel his usual calmness melting away from him into the sink in which he leaned over. He had tried so hard to apologise, but she was so stubborn. And Dixie. With her getting the job of duty manager over him, she had power over him. That look on her face when she opened that door, the fury in her eyes. Then there was Cyd. That heartbroken look in her pixie-like eyes, the quivering lip. Andrea. That lustful look on her face, an expression of glee knowing that she had defeated him. He hated defeat.
He gazed up into the mirror, at the face that stared back, shadows in the sharp angles of his cheeks, the tears that glistened on his cheeks. Eyes red and stinging with newly forming tears. He turned his face away, scared by the thing that stared back at him. He gripped the sides of the sink tighter, his knuckles white under his tightly drawn skin. His shoulders shuddered with every sob that left him. He bowed his head over the sink so that his cascading tears fell into the white ceramic. He relished in being alone so that no one saw him in this state. But his loneliness was short-lived. The door creaked open and Stitch strode in with a small plastic packet in his hands. But Greg was too busy crying to hear. He stepped up to the sobbing paramedic and leaned with his back against the wall where Greg stood. Greg looked to the floor to see a pair of feet that wasn't his own. His eyes carried on up the mint-green legs up to the slightly aged, yet handsome face. Stitch's dark hair was messy as usual.
" Well, well, well. What's up here, Skipper?" asked Stitch with hint of sarcasm in his voice.
" Nothing you need to know about." Greg ran his arm across his face, sniffing rather disgustingly.
" Come off it. Involve Pixie-Girl?"
" Her name's Cyd."
" So it is her?"
" It's got nothing to do with you." Stitch raised his hands, the little packet clasped between his thumb and palm. But Greg's vision was too blurred to see what it was. He looked into the mirror again, and saw that the monster had even redder eyes and saliva on his lips. Stitch hadn't moved and watched Greg as he turned on the hot water tap and allowed the water to fill his cupped hands. It dribbled between his fingers. He threw it against his face, the droplets running down the hair that lay over his face and from his chin and nose. Stitch continued to watch, his dark, mischevious eyes full of wonder.
" So... What happened?" asked Stitch once more, folding his arms once again. Greg glared at him, a bead of water rolling down his nose. Stitch leaned in closer, " There's no use in keeping it a secret, Skipper," His voice was slow and menacing, " Everyone is going to find out. In fact, I know what happened. That Aussie doctor. Made out in the back of an ambulance-"
" Shut up!" interrupted Greg, straightening himself out.
" Well, if you didn't want the whole world to find out how much of a-" Stitch was stopped sharp in his tracks. By that point, Greg's fist had made contact with Stitch's mouth. Stitch's head thrashed back, then forwards again. He pressed fingers to his lip to find it miraculously to not be bleeding. Greg stood panting with his knuckles reddening.
" I'll let you off on that one, Skipper. You didn't even draw blood."
" That doesn't mean I can't." Greg tore himself away from the doctor and hurried out of the toilets. As he paced through reception, he collided with a man of his height. He looked up to see Abs with maybe one or two papers in his hand. He stopped and rubbed his forehead. Abs searched Greg's face for answers.
" Hey, mate. You okay?" Greg nodded, " Come for a drink tonight." Greg nodded again. Abs gave him a pat on the shoulder as he carried on. Greg looked out of the doors to the ambulance park outside.
Greg swirled his third glass of lager. It was half-full and the froth from the top crept down the insides. Cyd and Dixie were sat at a table laughing and drinking. Greg glanced over, then solemnly back at his glass. Jeff patted his back. But Greg did not acknowledge this. He tugged his sleeves of his grey shirt back up to his elbows and sighed.
" Hey, come on, Greg." said Jeff.
" I can't be here."
" You've had three pints. Finish that, then I'm taking you home." Greg stared into his glass for a long time, at the bubbles rising to the top. It looked like a tiny whirlpool when he swirled it, " Greg? Oh..." A shadow appeared over him. Greg turned his head to see Dixie stood over him, her short blonde hair looking pink in the light. She pulled up a seat and sat down.
" What are you doing here, Greg?" she asked.
" Having a drink." She nodded and rose to her feet. Greg stood up too, " You can't hate me forever."
" No? Try me." She turned to leave and his hand snapped out and grabbed her wrist. She glared at him, " Let go of me, Greg." Greg did not speak, nor did he lose his grip, " Greg!" Jeff placed a hand on Greg's shoulder.
" Hey, come on, buddy." Greg and Dixie held eye contact, which he broke off, storming out of the pub. Dixie smirked, then collected her bags, leaving arm in arm with Cyd. Jeff ran out after Greg.
Greg was stood outside with his back against the wall and his head tilted back. His breaths left hs mouth as little clouds. He ran his hands up and down his face. Jeff found him and stod next to him. He shuffled his feet, staring down at them, then looking back up and at the ancient stone buildings across the road.
" What happened in there?" asked Jeff.
" Nothing."
" Come on, Rocky. What happened?"
" Nothing." Jeff nodded and patted him on the shoulder.
" I'd offer you a lift, but I've had a few. See you tomorrow." Greg nodded and pushed his hands into his jeans pockets as he wandered slowly and mournfully down the road where the street lights created pools of orange on the pavement.