"Ow.." Syed's mouth formed the word but no sound came. He dimly registered a background cacophony, someone crying, a clatter of wheels, and he trembled with an unknown panic. Blinding lights stabbed through his eyelids, he tried to open them, but pain made them heavy and immobile. Inside his dreams, he caught a glimpse of white blonde hair, a woman telling him to leave, for everyone's sake, and another, leaning close, the fragrance of familiarity and love on her breath, a smiling face, a sense of security, shattered by her hissing voice telling him she wished he would die.
He could smell alcohol and antiseptic, hear the bleeps of a machine echoing the pace of his heartbeat. And he felt a loss, he had to be somewhere, make something better.
A single tear trickled down his cheek.
Student Nurse Matt Jameson looked up from the chart he was filling in and called out to his colleague.
"Sister, I think our sleeping beauty might be coming round."
Syed heard rubber soles squeak on linoleum, felt a cool touch on his forehead.
"Can you hear me?"
'Yes..' he thought. 'But I'm scared to open my eyes…'
Sister Maddy Jermyn took the chart from Matt.
"Still out for the count. God, he reeks of booze. His B.P's still a little high…"
"He's got a massive bump on his head…"
Maddy smiled wryly at Matt's statement of the obvious.
"Why's he still on a trolley? He's been here a while hasn't he? Have you called the ward?"
Matt flushed, convinced that it must somehow be his fault that there were no beds available, and a massive R.T.A on the M4 had stretched the A and E department to it's limits.
"He's been here a couple of hours. A security guard found him lying on the ground round the back of Westfields when he turned up for work this morning, thought he was a drunk.."
Maddy sniffed.
"He certainly smells like one, but his bloods show no traces of alcohol. Got in a fight somehow? Homeless maybe."
Gently lifting Syed's hand, Matt pointed out;
"Not with these nails, plus the only thing he had on him, no wallet, no phone, was a tub of Elemis survival cream. Wish I could afford that.."
Looking him up and down, Maddy snorted with derision.
"On our salaries? Might have been mugged then, have the police been informed?"
Worried again that he might be messing up, Matt felt his palms dampen.
"I called it in, but they're more concerned with the motorway crash at the minute.."
Sensing his nervousness, Maddy recalled her own early years on the ward, the constant terror that she might accidentally kill someone. She winked at him kindly.
"You're doing fine. I can see you're quite keen on this one though, don't neglect the other patients, there's still that sprain in cubicle four to get rid of. Dr. Croker will want to check his CT scan and his bloods when she gets a chance. Put him in a gown, take those stinky clothes off him and keep him warm, he's been lying outside most of the night."
'I am cold.' Syed wanted to join in the conversation, seeing as it was about him, but he couldn't quite find the energy to open his mouth.
Maddy touched the skin of his wrist gently.
"Frozen. I'm sure someone must be missing him. Check at the front desk once you've sent the ankle in four packing, see if anyone's rung to claim him."
'I am not a lost umbrella!' The words shouted around Syed's brain, but no one heard.
Stifling a yawn, Matt rubbed the back of his neck. His shift was nearly over and it had been another long night. He looked forward longingly to the moment he shut his front door behind him and could kick off his shoes and fall into bed.
He found himself checking on Syed more than might be necessary, watching the bruises form under his eyes, willing them to open, to see the long lashes lift.
'Stop being so unprofessional Matt!" He chided himself, studying Syed's chart for the umpteenth time.
He had carefully and tenderly undressed him, pushed limp, unresponsive arms into the sleeves of a hospital gown, laid his poor bumped head against the crisp white starch of the pillow, chatting to him all the while.
"Lucky you didn't break the skin, might have had to shave off all that hair. I'm sure it would suit you though. Can't do anything with mine, too limp and greasy. You ready to wake up yet? Tell us your name?"
Syed cautiously opened one eye and blearily surveyed the man bending over him, a round pasty face and small deep set eyes.
"Sultana's in a sponge pudding.. Oops.." He realised he was being a bit unkind.
"What's that? You fancy something to eat? The doctor's on her way. You're in hospital, you had a fall."
Dr. Croker's arrival along the corridor towards them, was heralded by the efficient clicking of her fanciful court shoes. She gave Matt a tight smile, flexing her painful calf muscles, hoping that nobody would notice that under her flawless foundation she was pale with exhaustion and desperate for a cigarette.
"Mystery man come round yet? She enquired shortly.
Matt hoped he wouldn't start to spit when he talked or become unintelligible under her gimlet eye.
"He's been in and out, just asked for something to eat."
"Any name?"
"Not yet."
She took the chart from him.
"He's taken a nasty knock, but there's no swelling or bleeds. Bad bruising, evidence of concussion.."
She checked Syed's pupils perfunctorily and Will caught a glimpse of tawny gold iris.
"Let him sleep it off for a bit, see if you can find any relatives, and ship him off upstairs. Though he'll be lucky to get a bed before next year. He'd be better off at home anyway, with a couple of Neurofen and someone who loves him.."
She paused, as if properly seeing Syed for the first time.
"..Lovely looking man, I bet some poor girl's going frantic with worry."
Matt bristled at the presumption, but with a pang of regret, decided she was probably right.
"There's no wedding ring.." He realised he was allowing hope to triumph over experience.
"Probably got stolen. Try and nab a P.C if you see one…"
Yawning so widely that he almost cricked his jaw, Matt ran plump hands through his mousy hair and checked his watch.
"Nearly time for me to knock off and leave you.." He conversationally informed the prone Syed, filling in his chart with neat, round childish handwriting.
Syed stirred and frowned, making Matt jump at the sound of his small clear voice;
"I'd like to go home."
"Hello. Can you tell me your name?"
Syed peered at the friendly open face, searching through the fog his brain for an answer. The man seemed nice and kind, a little sweaty, but that couldn't be helped, and Syed wanted to oblige him with an answer, the only problem being that he didn't have a clue.
"Baz.." That rang a faint bell.
"Hiya Baz, what's your surname?"
Again Syed couldn't recall, could find nothing in the swampy sludge of confusion, until he hit upon;
"Mitchell."
"Baz Mitchell" Matt wrote it down, spelling out the letters slowly.
"And where do you live Mr. Mitchell?"
"Leeds." Syed felt a little more confident about that answer, it seemed plausible.
"Down to do some shopping?"
"They have shops in Leeds.." Syed noticed the heading on a folder under Matt's arm, it read 'Hammersmith Hospital.'
"I'm visiting.." He added.
'I must be, or why am I here?'
"That's nice! I'd like to visit Leeds one day.." Matt almost added: 'Perhaps you could show me round' allowing himself a moment of fantasy before briskly propping Syed up against the pillows and pouring him a plastic cup of water from the jug beside him.
"Sip it slowly.."
Syed swallowed one mouthful and felt bile rising, his head beginning to swim.
"Feel sick.."
Matt deftly held up a cardboard bowl and held back Syed's hair, waiting until he'd finished retching, wiping his mouth for him.
The touch on his hair awoke something in the dark recesses of Syed's mind, a yearning, a man laughing, breathing against his ear.
"I have to go home." He stated emphatically, swinging his legs off the trolley, trying to hold the back of the gown together.
Unhappiness and desperation had begun to claw at his heart, the bustle and lights of casualty were disturbing him, reigniting a feeling of panic, then distress of a time forgotten. His tone became firmer.
"I'm perfectly okay. Where are my clothes?"
With feeble pushes, Matt attempted to get him to lie down.
"In the cupboard here, Mr. Mitchell. They're dirty from where you were lying, the doctor says you're concussed, you should really.."
The double doors of the entrance crashed open, flashes of yellow paramedic jackets blurred by, people began to shout for assistance, A woman yelled Matt's name and he was hurried away.
Syed seized his chance and bundled up his things, slipping unseen to the gent's toilets.
Outside in the car park, the screech of an ambulance siren sent a dull ache banging through his skull, Syed touched the egg sized lump on his forehead gingerly, wincing at it's tenderness.
He searched with wild eyes for something familiar, a landmark, a symbol, something he recognised.
His throat tightened.
He wanted to go home, but he didn't know where it was.
