How The Other Half Live
AN: A big thank you to NC and Kat183 for their reviews on the last chapter.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Primeval.
Chapter 8-
Becker glanced down at her sleeping form, her features were set in contentment; her eyes lightly shut. She didn't seem to be sleeping too heavily, just dozing in the early morning sun which streamed through the gaps in the blinds, illuminating the dust particles, of which floated lazily in the air around the room. She had only been asleep for about an hour, having constantly been checking on the now, so called, patient of hers. He glanced over at the man in question, they had tried to make him as comfortable as possible and Anwen had laid her leather jacket on the ground in order to support his head. Even whilst sleeping softly in the sun, the man looked grossly ill and weak. He had, however, managed to survive the night- a fact of which Becker knew Anwen would be severely grateful for.
She shifted slightly as she woke, running a hand through her hair and squinting as the glaring sunlight consumed her sight. Lifting her head off of his shoulder, she stood and moved towards the window, after a moment of searching the surrounding area, she moved back to the man on the floor; clearly satisfied that there, now, was no threat.
Anwen gently reached out, holding two delicate fingers to the man's throat. For a couple of seconds, she didn't move and Becker instantly began to suspect the worst but after that short time of hesitation she grinned.
"He's still with us, but he's freezing." She looked up to meet Becker's gaze, her features now serious, "We need to move him now."
He nodded and made his way towards the door. Before pulling the shelving unit away, he had a quick glance through the window, there was no evidence that the dogs had even been there the night previously, and no sign that they were still there at all. Contented, he began to shift the unit to the side, so he was able to open the door.
With one last check, Becker moved over to the man on the floor and carefully lifted him from the ground. He groaned slightly in his slumber but there were no other signs of life from him. After making final checks of the makeshift bandages around his torso, the three set of.
()()()()()()()
"Anwen! Becker!" A hushed call echoed through the air as Sam poked her head out of an upstairs window, before turning back into the room, "Guys, they're back!"
After saying this, the blonde was roughly pushed aside, an indignant scowl on her face, and was replaced by Jack, who glanced curiously out at them before shutting the window and disappearing. A few minutes later, Anwen and Becker were met with a group of four as they stumbled down the stairs in the lobby. The two were surprised to see Molly- who rarely left the apartment- at the rear of the group; she instantly pushed through the others and pulled Anwen to her.
"I thought the worst had happened." She stated into the welsh woman's shoulder.
Anwen chuckled lightly, "Not a chance."
Both Bill and Jack (Who still limped slightly and grimaced occasionally) helped to take the new found man up the stairs, the three women; Anwen, Molly and Sam followed behind. When arriving back upstairs, Bill gently pushed past the younger members of the 'household' and held the door of the small infirmary open, so as to let Jack pass through with the patient. After laying the young man on the bed, the men left, leaving the woman to try and do as much as they could for their new found patient.
Sam sucked in a deep breath through gritted teeth as she gently peeled the man's shirt away from his skin to reveal several deep gashes to the stomach and chest, several were oozing crimson blood and others were merely surrounded by a pool of the red liquid. Anwen's eyes widened, as did Molly's.
"We need to put pressure on the wounds." Anwen stated before moving to the table and going to grab some linen.
Molly's authoritive voice stopped her—
"Nope, not you."
Anwen spun on her heel, chin set in defiance. Molly's face turned sympathetic as she glanced at the younger woman.
"Anwen, you need to rest. You're exhausted."
"I'm fine." Anwen spoke too quickly for Molly's liking.
"Please, we can handle this." She gestured to Sam behind her who looked up and smiled at Anwen, urging her friend that they truly could handle this.
"But-"
"No." Molly interrupted, she pointed to the door, "out, now!"
With a growl of frustration, Anwen left, slamming the door behind her.
()()()()()()()()
Walking into the main room, Anwen took note of just how quiet it was. She glanced around and saw why; Lydia was curled up on the sofa, fast asleep. Bill had just pulled a blanket, Anwen's blanket over her shoulders. The welsh woman felt something stir in the pit of her stomach, jealousy? She frowned; jealous of Bill? Not a chance.
Instead she put it down to her mood; helping people is what she was good at and after being kicked out of the infirmary, she just felt useless. Sitting down at the table, she began to tap the wood, looking for some way to entertain herself. This went on for a minute or two until a large hand clamped her own to the table. She turned to the side to see Bill, pinning her with a slight glare, she glared back and his face suddenly softened slightly.
"Drink?" he asked.
Anwen nodded, mumbling-
"Please."
Bill complied and brought her a small glass of water; she drank gratefully before resting her head on the wood and closing her eyes, the quietness of the room lulling her to sleep.
