I actually finished this a while ago and just forgot to post. Sorry about that. But I have decided to go with the odd visit to the ED and its people. It will not be an even split, writing Sam is far more interesting, but I'll dabble there every now and again to see what's happening and how everyone's getting on with knowing what's happened (I say as if I don't write this thing.)
I really appreciate everyone's reviews and favourites etc. It's good to know I'm not just sat here writing to myself. Not that there's much wrong with that, I've written heaps of things that I've never posted, but I digress.
Her last day at Holby had not been nearly as eventful as her first. It had even been quiet in the ED, as it sometimes was, as if everyone deliberately conspired together to have accidents on the same day just to inconvenience the staff. She'd spent the majority of her lunch break with patients as if a the very idea of a break would cause her to wither into nothing. Dylan had been his usual self, short with her and there to argue with almost everything she said, bring her down every time she took a step up.
It had even been in anger she had told him she was going back to war. He was the only one she wanted to know and she'd cornered him at the end of his shift as he gathered his things from his locker, but he hadn't been in a mood to listen. "What do you want, Sam?" He'd snapped as soon as he saw her. "I do have a life outside of this hospital you know." It had stung but she hadn't argued back that he had better not waste his time on her as she'd wanted to. He needed to know she was leaving and he needed to hear it from her.
"I-that was my-", the words had stuck in her throat, suddenly impossible to get out, although she had been muttering them to herself all day in attempt to make that easier. Her patients must have thought she had escaped the psychiatric ward.
Rather than waiting for her, Dylan had just rolled his eyes and tried to brush past, but she'd stepped into his path before he could reach the door. "I'm sure whatever it is can wait until tomorrow. I have a dog to walk." That time he had tried to physically move her out of the way and Sam had thrown him off with a sudden rush of anger born from her hurt.
"No it can't because tomorrow I will be in Afghanistan!" He'd stared at her for such a long time she started to think time itself had frozen.
"Right, well, good. Next time you come back, please make sure it's not here." The time she didn't resist as he shifted her aside and stormed out of the door. It had barely slammed behind him before the tears fell. She didn't even feel the heat of shame as they leaked down her cheeks and the worry that someone might walk in was only a tickle in the back of her mind. After everything that was all he had to say to her.
Good.
She'd closed her eyes and tried to force the circling words out of her head, but they had been lodged there on a harsh, vicious repeat. At least it had settled the buzzing doubt in her mind that she'd been doing the right thing. She knew then that she was. Leaving was what he wanted and it was what she needed. At least amidst explosions and gunfire she could forget that there wouldn't be anyone anxiously jumping at every ring of the doorbell in case they found an officer in a beret. She would return to a loud base, a far cry from the empty walls of her flat. She wouldn't have to see the glare of her ex-husband or listen to his silence any longer.
She'd drawn a deep, shuddering breath then and swallowed down the rest of her tears. It would do her no good to fall apart now. In the morning she would return to war and she had to be alert. She had to fall back into her role as a tough, no nonsense Major. She'd almost smiled at the thought. They all thought she was so brave. Her team in Afghanistan, the staff at the ED. She was strong, they said. She was tough. But they didn't realise that she was the biggest coward of all. She ran from war back to her husband, and now she was running from him back to war. Whatever was easiest. Never stick around to feel the pain.
She risked her life every day but never really did anything that scared her. The thought of dying was a distant one. She almost assumed it would never happen to her and the rational part of her that knew it could forced it to the back of her mind so it was barely even something she considered. The things that truly frightened her stayed buried deep in the pits of her mind she never dug up.
A bang jolted Sam out of her sleep. She shot up in the same moment as her eyes opened and groaned at the immediate spike of pain through her head. For once, she was glad of the dark that meant she couldn't see the room lurch. Leo was up too, she could hear him shuffling beside her, scrambling to get to his feet. Sam pulled herself up slowly, her nails digging into the rough dirt walls.
Before she could register what had woken her there was a rough hand on her arm, so soaked in sweat that it slipped down her skin. Sam flinched. She was used to bodily fluids, but coming from one of them it was dirty and she could already feel it clinging to her, soaking into her paws and seeping through her body. Filth that she would never be rid of. She twisted her arm, throwing off his hand and leapt away, but a horribly familiar click froze her against the wall.
"If you don't do things my way, I'll put a bullet through his skull and feed you his brains." Sam faltered, her body crumbled, useless and weak. Grinning in triumph the man led her through the door. She didn't know how long it had been since she'd last been out of her prison, the minutes had blurred beyond recognition long ago, but she knew it had been long enough so she couldn't even open her eyes with the sudden light. She stumbled blindly with the man shoving her from behind.
She had never seen him before. His hair was jet black and rested on his head in curls. His eyes were darker than the others and his nose perfectly straight. Dark stubble coated his milky brown skin and he had a habit of touching it as if to draw attention there. Look at me, he seemed to want to say, I'm old enough to grow a beard. But the firm grip he'd had as he'd drilled the barrel of the gun into Leo's head told her he was anything but a boy.
Sam tripped and would have fallen if Beard Face hadn't had her arm twisted in his hold. She hated that more than she would have hated to have him watch her tumble. She walked up the short flight of stairs and then they stopped. Sam cracked open her eyes. They still protested painfully against the brightness, but she could see, if only blurred shapes and mixed colours.
There was another man with them. No, not man. This one really was a boy. He had just ghosts of stubble brushing his chin that he probably didn't even need to shave. He was short too, and skinny. He didn't look strong. If she was left alone with him she could overpower him easily. But then what? There would be more men, Wonky Nose, Beard Face and who knew how many more. Not to mention a gun pressing into Leo's temple. Even if she escaped there was nowhere to run too. She was fairly sure she was still in Afghanistan, but even that was mere guesswork. Her radio and mobile were long gone.
She was suddenly thrust towards the boy who looked just as startled as she felt. His hands caught her, but they were more gentle than his associate's. "Here you go, someone to finally loose it too," Beard Face sneered. The boy gaped at him, his gaze flickering fearfully between him and Sam.
"I-I don't-"
"Don't worry," Beard Face interrupted. "She'll be a good little girl."
Something was screaming inside her head to fight. Punch them. Run. Scream. But helplessness was drowning her. She could do nothing without getting Leo killed and he shouldn't die, not for her. They weren't planning to kill her, not if she didn't struggle.
Beard Face seized the kid by the scruff of his tattered green shirt and threw them both into a small, grubby room. There were black smears across the walls, Sam noticed. The window was blocked by an equally filthy sheet. There was a nail sticking up from the floorboards in the top left corner. There was a dead bird right beside it. There was a mattress but not a bed, covered with a holey blanket and a single, threadbare pillow. A half empty glass of water stood beside it. She could not escape.
The door clicked shut behind them, the sound far too gentle for what was happening. Sam would almost have preferred it if it had slammed; the sound would have made it more wrong somehow, more forceful. It would have made her less helpless against a grotty room and a kid no older than eighteen. He let her go as soon as they were alone. Sam noticed she was taller than he was. She took a step towards the wall, close to the dead bird, and he didn't follow. He watched her with an expression knitted into fear. She returned it with a glare. If he was scared enough he might not hurt her.
But then his hands curled into fists at his side and something harder changed his features. "We'll both get a beating if I don't." He swallowed. His Adam's apple wasn't even fully grown. "If you say yes it isn't-I don't have to-" He broke off and Sam could almost hear his teeth gritting together. A loud, out of place laugh sounded from below them. "We both do it to save ourselves," he said more firmly, resolved.
Do it, Sam told herself. Agree and it will just be sex. But even as he moved towards her she pressed herself against the pale wall. "Come on, please," the boy begged.
"How old are you?" Sam blurted. It wasn't what she meant to say. She hadn't meant to say anything at all. But looking at the ghost of stubble on his face it was impossible to think of anything else.
"Nineteen," he told her without blinking. Sam nodded, her eyes fluttered closed for a moment and shot open again as she remembered where she was. There was less of an age gap between them than there had been between her and Dylan. Sam struggled to push the thoughts from her mind, hating herself for even putting them there. Dylan was nothing like this man.
His hands were shaking now.
"Please say yes," he whispered.
Sam shook her head. She wanted to. She wanted it to just be sex. But she knew it didn't matter what word came out of her mouth, the answer would still be no. He didn't want to do it, if she put up enough fight he'd relent, but if she caved that made her just as bad as him, as them.
"Pretend," he blurted out so suddenly that Sam was sure she hadn't heard him. "Scream," he told her. "Beg a little. If they think I'm…then neither of us will get hurt."
She felt herself nod. It was the best plan they had. Certainly better than having sex with him. But she hated the idea of begging. She'd be giving them what they wanted, they'd think they had power over her. She'd planned to not make a sound. If he didn't touch her though, how would they win? They'd think they had and that would just make them bigger fools. She nodded again, more firmly.
She felt foolish, but it was the last thing to be worrying about. The laughter downstairs stopped when she let out her first scream. She heard the silence in her own, during the gaps. She screamed again, over and over until her throat ached. And then she switched to pleading. All the while the boy stood there, his hands clamped over his ears as if her pleas were real. Sam felt a disturbing and misplaced jab of sympathy for him. He was one of them, but he was far more reluctant, far less brutal. He didn't want to hurt her. Perhaps he was as much of a victim as Leo was.
Leo. Sam almost stopped her cries mid-word. He would be able to hear everything. Would she tell him it had all been fake or would it be safest to let him think it had been real too? What if the others were listening when she told him? What if she couldn't trust him? Sam pushed those thoughts from her mind and begged again. She thumped her fist against the wall as if she were struggling. And again. All the while the boy's hands continued to block her out.
When her voice was too raw and her hands throbbing she stopped. She was gasping, her legs shaking as if it had not been a performance. She felt almost as if it wasn't. The boy was trembling too.
"You'll have to slap on a grin," Sam told him. "It's your turn to pretend."
He just nodded and started towards her. Sam flinched. "I have to…take you back," he stammered, his hand closing around her arm. She didn't try and resist as he led her out of the room and back down the stairs. She kept her head high and gaze steely. They'd be expecting that from her. It was a defence too. She'd have that little victory, even if they thought they had won the battle.