good evening :) sorry this is a little late, it took me much longer than expected to write this! This chapter is a little different in that it switches to Sam's POV later on. i hope this doesn't confuse any of you but I certainly thought it would turn out better if I did this. Theres a few bits and bobs I'm not sure about, so I'd love to know what you think. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, especially your bloody massive essays Lea ;)
18:30: 3 hours 39 minutes
"Shouldn't you be the one in the bed?" Zoe said, bemused, as she walked into resus, noticing Sam curled up on the bed, fast asleep. Her face softened as she took note of her grey complexion and red, puffy eyes.
"How's she doing?" she said, softly.
"She's absolutely exhausted, and probably still in shock. She's so strong though."
"That's Sam for you." I nodded, and then I noted Zoe's weird facial expression.
"Zoe, what's wrong?"
"The police, they want to take you in for questioning."
I looked up at her in shock and shook my head frantically.
"N-no...why?"
"They wouldn't tell me anything, I'm sorry Fletch."
My mind cast back suddenly to the breathalyser test I vaguely remember having taken at the scene of the accident. I realised I had absolutely no recollection of the policeman giving me the result. I'd just helped the paramedics and firemen drag Tom from the wreckage and was desperately trying to drown out Dixie's hopeless CPR on his dead body, knowing she was simply breaking ribs and crushing organs. I don't think I'd even questioned why said policeman needed me to take it, let alone function enough to wonder what the result was.
Now though, I found myself doubting my own mind. Was I as sober as I thought I was? At no point did I think I was still drunk- I had a headache, I was hungover but I was certain I could function as normal. I would never put peoples lives at risk like that- or did I? What if this really was my fault? I was blaming myself already, without even knowing why and how I'd crashed, simply the fact I was the one who was driving, the one who left that car and caused the bridge to collapse was enough.
I could leave Natalie without a husband, my children without a father, spending years in prison, missing the birth of my fourth child. More importantly, I was a murderer. Sam no longer had her fiancé. I was struggling to comprehend how Sam wasn't already blaming me for his death, if I was in her situation I definitely would have, but how would she cope knowing the accident could have been prevented and Tom could still be alive if I hadn't driven that car? And how could I live with myself knowing I'd driven whilst still drunk? A selfish thought, but a true one.
"Fletch?" Zoe said softly, interrupting my thoughts with a hand on my shoulder.
I looked up at her as though I'd just realised she was there, and blinked furiously.
"Where's Natalie?"
"She's in the relatives room."
"Does she know, about the police?"
"Yeah, she's going to come with you, okay?"
She noticed me glancing over at Sam's still sleeping form worriedly;
"She'll be okay, I'll look after her, I promise."
I nodded, standing shakily and wincing at the sharp pain of the whiplash in my neck, then slowly walking out of resus. Looking back through the glass in the doors as they slammed shut, I noticed Zoe had kicked up the chair I had been sitting in towards the bed and had gently taken Sam's hand. I knew in that moment Sam would be okay with Zoe, at least until she woke up anyway.
18:51: 4 hours
"Sam? Sam, wake up? We're going to be late for work you lazy bugger, come on!"
I groaned, rolling over and grinning as I met Toms gaze.
"Morning beautiful," he winked and then leant forward and kissed me on the forehead.
"I thought you were on the stag weekend?" I smiled, before kissing him back.
"I thought I'd come home and surprise you before I say goodbye" he replied, still grinning.
"Goodbye? Why, where are you going?"
"I'm just going. Bye Sam, look after yourself yeah? I love you so much."
He was getting whiter and whiter by the second, his voice fading to a whisper.
"Tom, where are you going? Tom?!"
He was disappearing, fading away as if he had never even been there.
"TOM!" I screamed hysterically, "Please don't leave me, don't leave me!"
"Sam? Sam, it's okay!" his voice was whispering desperately, but he was just a shadow of himself.
"No Tom, don't go! TOM!"
"Sam, you're dreaming, wake up!"
I was dreaming. I woke up sobbing painfully, and someone had hold of me in what they must of thought was a comforting embrace, but I felt trapped. It was only a dream.
Then I remembered, the dream was true. Tom had left me. He was dead.
My sobs halted suddenly and I brought my head up to look at the person who had probably saved me from another panic attack.
"Z-zoe" I managed, trying desperately to stem the tears from pouring down my face, but the moment I met Zoe's sympathetic but obviously devastated gaze, I dissolved into tears again.
"Shhh", she soothed as she pulled me into her arms again, rubbing my back like I was a child, "it's alright, you're alright". As soon as the words were out of her mouth, I felt her body tense up, and I instantly felt a pang of guilt for what I'd said to her earlier, and for the fact she felt she had to feel bad for what she was saying. I'd blamed her for not saving Toms life, yet I knew, even before Fletch had told me what had happened, that it was lost cause before Zoe even had a chance. There was no one else but Zoe I would rather have make the decision that nothing more could be done for Tom.
Sometime later, the uncharacteristic tears ceased and I brought my eyes up to meet Zoe's again, praying that I could keep the tears at bay. As I did, Zoe gave me a warm smile which instantly reassured me. I never knew something as simple as someone's expression could make me instantly relax, but it seemed the moment that Tom died, my personality had changed dramatically, and it scared me almost as much as the thought of coping without him.
"I'm so sorry Zoe." I blurted out suddenly.
Despite my reluctance to expand meaning she had no idea what I was apologising for, she shook her head furiously.
"What have you got to be sorry for?"
"I've been so horrible to you and all you've done is help me," I whispered, voice wavering.
"Don't be silly Sam, this has probably been the hardest day of your life and all you've done is react, like a human would. Because you are human Sam, no matter what you might think."
My eyes filled with tears immediately;
"Oh no, don't cry again" Zoe pleaded, and I smiled at her reassuringly.
"I don't think I've ever cried so much in my life anyway." I joked.
"I should be the one apologising, I was the one who left that diazepam on the table, I'm so sorry that it upset you, I have no idea why I did that, I think I was in shock."
"It wasn't that you had it Zoe, it was the memories it brought back...but I'd rather not talk about those."
She smiled and squeezed my hand understandingly. We lapsed into a comfortable silence. Well comfortable for Zoe, for me came the realisation yet again that Tom wasn't here with me. I remembered I hadn't seen him, I hadn't said goodbye. I wondered what he'd look like, was he cold now? Would it be horrific to look at him? I'd seen more horrendously injured people than most doctors in this hospital, but this was Tom. Tom who I loved, who was perfect.
Would Tom want me to see him dead?
When we lost patients in resus, particularly ones we had formed a bond with, it helped us to be productive, register their death, tidy them up, to see their body and to know their soul was somewhere else and they were gone. We'd done the same in the army, and whilst it was always horrific as a 23 year old to have to clean the dead bodies of fellow soldiers, it helped. I knew to have any form of closure from Toms death I had to say goodbye.
"Zoe?"
"Yeah?"
"I want to see him."
Zoe looked up at me in alarm, and then realisation dawned on her face as she remembered who I meant.
"Okay, are you sure?"
"No, but I need to do this."
19:11: 4 hours 20 minutes
I had only been into Holbys mortuary a handful of times in my time there, but as I walked down the corridor and the smell hit me, I instantly remembered how horrible it was. Death scares me. It might sound stupid, considering as a doctor I deal with death regularly and as an army medic I faced death myself, but as a doctor your job is to save lives and with that for me came the irrational fear of death and the notion that death was something we needed to avoid at all costs. There was little I was afraid of, but death was one of those things.
I couldn't stop shivering. I wasn't sure if it was because it was absolutely freezing down there or the absolute terror I was feeling, but nevertheless I was incredibly grateful for the arm Zoe kept round my shoulders as we walked towards the room Tom lay in.
"In here." Zoe said softly, stopping outside one of the rooms.
"You ready?" I couldn't answer though, as before I could speak I felt myself sway and was overcome by the urge to throw up.
"Woah steady, you ok Sam?" Zoe said worriedly as she grabbed my arms.
"I-I don't know, I feel sick"
"Okay, don't worry, it's probably just nerves. Look at me Sam, take nice deep breaths."
I did as instructed and was relieved that the nausea quickly disappeared.
"Are you sure you want to do this? You don't have to."
"No no, I do, I want to." I said firmly.
"Alright, do you want me to come in with you?"
"No, I need to do this by myself."
Zoe nodded knowingly and opened the door for me. Before I looked inside, I took a deep breath, looking directly into Zoe's eyes.
"Please be here when I come out though."
"Of course I will."
I'm not sure what I expected when I walked into that room, maybe something terrifying or that Tom would look horrifically disfigured, but the moment I saw him lying there that pit of nausea in my stomach instantly disappeared.
Instead it was replaced by an ache. The ache of my heart shattering into tiny pieces. Tom really was gone.
It seemed the cliché that dead people looked like they were sleeping couldn't be any less true. The life had been sucked out of him, left there a chalk white shell of a body. He wasn't there anymore, just his body remained. I think it was his colour, it was always the colour. He always had such wonderful rosy cheeks, even when he was exhausted after a night shift or ill. He always glowed. Now, nothing.
His face had been cleaned and not a scratch lay on his face. I knew the real damage lay beneath the bandage wrapped around the back of his head, but I couldn't bear to think of that. I knew beneath the white sheet that lay up to his chest, his legs were disfigured and maimed and not Tom, but with the sheet and the bandage, he was perfect. He was perfect anyway.
I know I must have stood there for ages taking in a thousand tiny details, like noticing the tiny scar he had on his left shoulder, and how I'd never noticed it before but had clearly been there a long time. The smile lines and frown lines in his face which reminded me this was my Tom, the one whose grin never failed to make me smile. That smile. How he ever got told off as a child, I have no idea.
Eventually, I sat on the chair positioned at the side of the table. My arm went forward to take his hand, but I quickly jerked it back. Could I touch him? I wasn't sure I could bear to feel how freezing he was, to remind me he'd been dead for hours and I hadn't been there. He'd have wanted me to hold his hand, to feel his comfort even if he couldn't give it completely.
Cautiously, I placed my hand over his. He was so cold, but he still felt like Tom. I took it properly, entwining my fingers with his, trying to warm them up with my own. I knew if I ever wanted to move on, even if I didn't want to now, I had to talk. Talking as if he was there in the room, hoping that he was, that he could hear me.
"You silly bugger, Thomas. We're getting married in a couple of days, and you've only gone and died on me...that's a funny way of showing me you were getting cold feet about it."
I joked, trying desperately to lift the stifling atmosphere of death from the room. Then I remembered, this was Tom. And this was the last time I'd ever see him. I had to be honest- with him, with myself.
"Remember when I proposed Tom, and I reminded you how rubbish I was at soppy stuff, like proposals. You'd grinned at me, and still you said yes. I couldn't believe you wanted to marry me. I think I'd spent so long feeling inadequate, then you came along and I felt loved, wanted. Anyway, I'm going to go against the grain at being rubbish at soppy stuff and I'm going to tell you everything. It's the least you deserve.
I'm going to miss you so much you know." My voice shook, this was probably the most I'd ever said to anyone, let alone Tom, about my feelings. "This morning I woke up extra early, expecting a text from you like the last few days, this time telling me you were home. You have no idea how much those texts meant to me. When I didn't get one this morning, I felt a tiny pang of panic, and anger, but mostly disappointment."
"I couldn't wait to marry you this week. I know I told you I wasn't going to change my name when we got married, but I want you to know that there was nothing more I wanted than to become Mrs Kent. Your wife. There was so much we had to look forward to. I couldn't wait to travel the world with you, to buy a house together no matter the amount of times I moaned about you not clearing up after yourself. To have children. I wish we could have had a baby Tom. You would have made an incredible dad, I'm so sorry you didn't get the chance to become one.
I'm sorry for giving you the diazepam. It will forever be one of the biggest regrets of my life. It nearly ruined us, it nearly ruined you, your job. I'm so sorry.
I'm sorry I never told you how much I love you. I hope you knew how much I love you, even if I didn't show it, but I really do love you. And no matter what happens in my life, I will never stop loving you.
I hope you're up there somewhere, watching me make a fool of myself crying over a dead body. Don't ever leave me Tom, not properly."
I picked up his cold, limp hand and gently pressed a kiss to the top of it, closing my eyes to remember exactly what his touch felt like, so I never forgot.
Standing up, I leant over his face, running my hand through his dust filled hair, matted with blood, inhaling the smell of his shampoo, and then placing one final kiss on his lips. The final kiss.
"Amor ad infinitum."
And I left that room without looking back.
And Zoe was there, as she promised, with open arms.
continuing my Latin obsession, amor ad infinitum translates as "love without limits" or basically loving someone until the end of time :) next chapter yous find out what happens to fletch, sorry I didnt get round to that in this one!
