The Damage we do – Chapter 10
Okay, never been to Mexico, didn't plan on writing a scene set in Mexico, but Dylan got drunk on tequila and he talked.
This chapter took so long because of me taking ages researching the medical stuff. Silly me, since it's still probably wrong!
As always,
Past – italics
Present – normal text
Massive thanks to reviewers Ficmouse, bigapplecat, Swebby, Callie Rawston, Trying to understand and Lisa95.
Please Review!
Queen Elizabeth Hospital Birmingham, 2012
Sam felt really weird. She wanted to wake up because she could sense other people in the room but she felt oddly paralysed, like it was too much effort to really open her eyes fully and move. She tried though, really hard and she finally felt like she was getting somewhere. She opened her eyes and the room looked familiar, like maybe she had been awake before although she didn't remember it. She searched her memory desperately to label this place and how she came to be here but came up short. Someone was holding her hand. She moved her head and felt a blinding flash of pain. She moaned loudly and the hand holding hers moved violently and suddenly Dylan was leaning over her, looking the worst she had ever seen him. Suddenly she remembered Afghanistan, she was there.
"Dylan, no, not safe" She managed to say croakily. Everything was strange, her words didn't sound right. He looked like he was trying to say something to calm her down but he was talking too quietly. She strained to hear him but she still felt so sleepy and confused and she couldn't help dropping off again.
Dylan's heart broke at her words. All she had been through and she was worried for him. The doctor had told him it was common for service members injured in theatre to wake up still thinking they were out there. Still to see it in Sam was disconcerting and he hadn't seemed to have been able to calm her down.
She had recognised him thankfully and her speech and vision had seemed intact. He could mark those two off the list. Although she remembered him it would take a lot longer conversation before Dylan was satisfied her memory was intact. Obviously she didn't remember being flown home but that wasn't unusual in head injuries as severe as hers. Dylan felt something unclench inside him. She was awake, she knew who he was and she still seemed like Sam.
Mexico, 2009
Dylan waited for Sam, leaning on the balcony looking out over the hotel pool. It was a small hotel and thankfully it was mostly couples and no children. He had spent a perfectly amazing day swimming and relaxing on the beach and had been strict with himself and only snuck a quick peek at the back of the murder mystery he had been reading when he had been absolutely sure he had guessed the murderer correctly. Sam had spent the morning and most of the afternoon with him and then he had watched as she flew past him at speed, trying out kite surfing.
They had eaten dinner and had a minor food fight over the dessert, which was why Sam was changing. Her light blue top had not survived the battle. Dylan was sure half the restaurant had thought they were crazy, but she would insist she didn't want dessert, until his arrived and then it was all 'go on let me have a bit' and it turned out stealing a sundae off someone wasn't as easy as it looked. Dylan was quite impressed he had managed to hold on to it for as long as he had. Sam was a highly trained member of the armed forces after all. That he himself had been wiping cream off his ears for the last five minutes was beside the point.
It had absolutely nothing to do with the large amounts of tequila sunrises that they had both consumed. They had both agreed to a strategic retreat to clean up their battle damage before going on to see what the local nightlife was like, although there was a mutual agreement to avoid the karaoke bars. This was turning into a great holiday.
Stumbling back into their suite later they got ready for bed laughing, both drunker than they usually felt able to be back in the city in which they lived and worked. Dylan stripped off his clothes after brushing his teeth and put the light on for Sam before collapsing into the bed.
Sam had already changed and was taking off her makeup in the bathroom. She switched off the light and walked into the bedroom. She automatically went to turn the light on, and was confused when it was already on.
"You left the light on." She turned to him confused.
Dylan propped himself up on one elbow to look at her. "Yes."
"You never leave the light on. I always have to do it."
"So. I was being nice." He said, perfectly aware that knowing why Sam was afraid of the dark had obviously altered his attitude to how she dealt with it.
Sam looked at him closely and Dylan looked away quickly, aware that this made him look guiltily, but having no defences in his inebriated state.
"We are married now." He said, trying to keep his voice casual.
"That's not why you left it on, is it?" She questioned in a dangerous tone.
"Er, yes of course it is. I have to be nicer to you now." He said turning away cringing as he said it.
"What like sharing your dessert you mean? You haven't changed since we got married Dylan. Not that I wanted you to. So why?" She sat down on the bed and Dylan closed his eyes but she didn't move and he could feel her eyes on him, waiting.
He snapped his eyes open and sat up in the bed. "Fine. I did something that perhaps I shouldn't have done."
Sam tilted her head at him. "What precisely did you do Dylan?" Her tone hadn't lost the 'big trouble' tone.
"I was curious about your father. So I googled him and I found this newspaper article…" He trailed off.
Sam gazed at him angrily. "I know the one. Well that's great. Really easy for you I suppose, just a cold newspaper story, no messy emotions to deal with. I'm not poor little Samantha, Dylan. I can look after myself." She left the bedroom and slammed the door.
Queen Elizabeth Hospital Birmingham, 2012
Sam returned to awareness gradually, feeling movement near her and sensing the sunlight on her face. She opened her eyes and blinked as her eyes watered in the bright light. She was staring at a hospital room, but it wasn't anywhere in the field hospital in Camp Bastion. It looked like a typical NHS facility.
Dylan was sat by her side, flicking listlessly through a dog eared paper. She vaguely remembered waking before and feeling panicked but that feeling had subsided now. There was something that felt wrong about the hospital room though, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Her entire body felt heavy and stiff and her mouth felt dry. She tried to move her head again and although she felt like her head might explode, the pain wasn't unmanageable like it was before.
Dylan dropped the paper on her side table and sprung forward at her movement.
He moved closer to her and said something but it was distant as if from a long way away and she couldn't quite register it. He still looked awful and his clothes looked like he had been wearing them for several days.
"Grumpy." She managed to say, before coughing at the dryness in her throat. Her voice sounded odd to her own ears and she frowned as she accepted the water Dylan offered her.
He was talking again and Sam realised she couldn't hear him. He must be talking normally, she just couldn't hear him. Her hand without the IV in went to her ear. She must have been in an explosion. That might explain her hearing loss.
"Dylan. I can't hear you." She said as he continued to talk at her. He stopped and looked at her consideringly.
"Nothing?" He formed the word slowly and she was able to understand. She went to shake her head and was met with a jolt of pain.
"Nothing." She confirmed. He left her side and returned with paper and pen.
How do you feel? He wrote.
"My head hurts. Where am I? What happened?" Sam asked, still confused by the abnormal sound of her voice.
You're at Queen Elizabeth Hospital Birmingham. You got blown up. Idiot. He held up to her.
She almost smiled at her husband's typical attitude. "What about my team? Are they okay? I was out with them wasn't I?"
You don't remember? He held up.
"No, nothing." Sam said and realised she must have had a head injury as she literally didn't remember leaving Bastion and it was unlikely she had been injured there.
There was an explosion. You and another soldier were injured and two soldiers died. I'm really sorry, I don't know who. I can find out for you. He held the note up apologetically and Sam's breath hitched as she read it. She turned her head carefully away from him. He didn't seem to move, but she felt his hand fold itself around hers and she shifted it so their fingers were intertwined. She needed to know which of her team hadn't made it back but at the same time not knowing meant that they were all still alive, if only in her head.
"How long?" Sam asked and was surprised to see Dylan look at the paper blankly as he picked up the paper and pen to write. He looked almost confused as he stared around the room as if trying to remember and then pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at the screen and Sam realised he genuinely didn't know how long they had been here. That wasn't like Dylan at all and she felt awful for the hell he had probably been through.
Hospital 2 days. You had a head injury. Had craniotomy. He finally wrote and Sam noticed the handwriting on the last part was a bit shaky. No wonder he looked awful. Sam squeezed his hand and their eyes met. He took in a deep breath and dropped into the chair beside her bed. Sam was overwhelmed by the sheer relief on his face and he reached out his hand to smooth down her hair. He had obviously suffered and it all seemed to be hitting him now. His eyes were glistening and he fumbled around for the paper and pen.
Well done on not being dead. He held up, accompanying it with a thumbs up. She laughed and then winced at the way it made the pain in her head worse. She shifted in the bed.
"I had neurosurgery? How's my MRI?" she asked.
Dylan rolled his eyes and wrote. I don't know, I'm your husband, not your doctor. Your consultant should be round later.
"Can you find out for me? Who I lost?" She felt the tiredness pressing down on her and tried valiantly to focus on Dylan.
He nodded and she let herself close her eyes for a moment.
Mexico, 2009
The next morning Dylan woke up to find Sam gone. He waited in the hotel room anxiously for Sam to return not wanting to miss her. He must have fallen back to sleep at some point as he was woken up by the opening of the door.
"I'm fine, really. I'm a doctor, I can look after myself."
Dylan walked into the living area. Sam was standing with an older Mexican man, trying to shoo him out of the door but he was having none of it.
"What's going on here?" Dylan asked, and then caught sight of the laceration on Sam's forehead and friction burn on her shoulder and down her left arm.
"Sam! What happened?" As soon as he said it he knew, he knew the way Sam worked. He had first noticed it on the commute to work, if they had an argument or disagreement the night before, Sam would be more reckless than usual, risking the changing traffic lights and squeezing into spaces cyclists with a healthy sense of self preservation would have balked at.
"Your wife is crazy! She not going again. I leave her with you." He said in imprecise English and left, obviously considering his work done.
Dylan caught her head in his hands and peered at the laceration. She allowed it for a second and then pulled away defiantly. "I'm fine."
"What did you do?" He asked, trying to keep his anger under control.
"I was just having some fun. This is my honeymoon." She walked away from him impatiently and went into the bathroom for their first aid kit.
Dylan followed her. "It's our honeymoon." He took the first aid kit off her and motioned for her to jump up on the tiled bathroom counter to the left of the sink.
"Well since you wouldn't come I had to have fun for the both of us." She said cheekily.
"This isn't fun Sam. You could have really been hurt. Even that Mexican bloke thought you were crazy and they're not exactly health and safety sticklers out here." Dylan said tightly and Sam shot him a mocking look.
"Did you lose consciousness at all?" He took out the penlight and proceeded to check her pupil response. She brushed him away.
"No Dylan, I'm fine, I told you. It's just a scrape." Sam said in a humouring voice.
"Right well, I'm sorry." Dylan had to say before she annoyed him so much he was incapable of saying it.
"What do you mean?" Sam challenged.
"You've obviously done this to get back at me for what I told you yesterday. Well it worked okay? The worst thing you can do to me is put yourself in danger." Dylan said calmly while he cleaned the grazes on her arm.
Sam looked at him in annoyance. "I didn't do this on purpose. I just got a little close to the trees that's all."
"Fine." Dylan said shortly, if she wasn't going to admit it then there was no point continuing the conversation. He continued cleaning her arm in silence.
"We should do something together tomorrow. There's a boat trip to see some turtles." He finally offered.
Sam snapped her head back in confusion and regarded him with a raised eyebrow "Turtles?"
"Turtles." Dylan confirmed, feeling slightly ridiculous.
"Okay. Turtles it is." She said, the guarded part of her expression now replaced with amusement.
Queen Elizabeth Hospital Birmingham, 2012
When she awoke again there was a crowd of people around her bed. Dylan was leaning against her window sill looking like he belonged there and she just caught the back of her father disappearing out of the room.
"Ah, Major Nicholls, it's about time." Her consultant said, slowly and carefully so she could see the words as he formed them.
"Lieutenant Colonel King. Sorry to keep you waiting sir." Sam replied. Her headache hadn't lessened.
"Nothing wrong with your memory then." He addressed her wryly. The neurosurgeon nodded to her and appeared to be addressing his juniors, but Sam couldn't catch what they were saying.
Dylan was silent, but Sam could see he was listening intently. She should be watching King and his team to find out how she was doing, but she felt herself examining Dylan. He looked like he had changed his clothes since she had last seen him although she was fairly sure it was just later on the same day. He looked knackered like he had just worked several night shifts in a row, but his expression was much more relaxed than when she had seen him last.
She felt a touch on her hand and saw her consultant was trying to get her attention.
"How are you feeling Major?" He asked carefully.
"I have a hell of a headache and I can't hear anything. Other than that fine." She said
He nodded. "Can you hear any sounds at all?"
Sam listened for a moment. "Maybe a buzzing from really far away?"
"Could just be from the explosion. You were very close apparently. We have you on Magnesium to lessen the effects. Right, tomorrow, we'll get you up and about."
Sam could just about follow that. "Yes sir."
"Oh and there's still a lot of swelling to go down. I wouldn't worry just yet about your hearing Major. Good to see you again." He added as he left.
Dylan rolled his eyes behind him and Sam almost laughed at her husband judging someone else for being insensitive. He picked up the pen and paper. Did you catch any of that?
Sam couldn't help smiling. "A bit. Not worried about the hearing yet. Getting up and about tomorrow."
Dylan nodded satisfied.
"He obviously thinks the hearing problems are noise induced, not neurological. My MRI can't be that bad. He wasn't shocked that I remembered his name."
How do you know him? He didn't mention he knew you. Dylan wrote.
"Well I keep sending him patients don't I? I've met him at conferences too. You know us army docs stick together at those kinds of things. He may not look like it, but his version of Tom Jones Delilah raised the roof in Manchester last year." She looked at Dylan and he wasn't replying, just watching her, as if he was afraid she was too good to be true. She gave him a small smile and he looked away as if embarrassed.
Did you do Aqua Barbie girl? He held up solemnly. She couldn't reach him to hit his arm like he rightfully deserved so she narrowed her eyes at him in promise of future pain, not able to help the small smile that slipped through her defences at his antics.
Plymouth, 2009
Sam looked around the flat, sure she had forgotten something and was going to remember exactly what it was and how crucial it was on the plane to Germany.
"Don't bother. If you've forgotten anything I can just send it or bring it when I come for the weekend." Dylan stood behind her, so close she leaned back against him contentedly.
"When I come back I expect a shortlist of potential houses and for you not to have eaten your body weight in Chinese takeaway's okay?" She said, unsurprised he had read her mind.
"I like Chinese food." He said the hint of a whine in his voice, resting his chin on her shoulder as his arms wrapped around her waist.
"It's not one of the five food groups, Keogh!" She teased.
"It's one of my five food groups." He said sulkily and Sam rolled her eyes.
"Along with wine, chocolate, whiskey and coffee do you mean?" She said sarcastically. "I've stocked the fridge and I'll be sending Jess and Millie over to check!"
"You can't call me Keogh anymore, you know." He said changing the subject masterfully. "You're a Keogh too. Dr Samantha Keogh."
Sam smiled and turned to face him. "It feels strange, to still be Lieutenant Nicholls for the army. It's like I'm one person for work and another person in real life."
"You could always stay Dr Nicholls." He said searching her expression in concern. "I wouldn't be offended; it's always been your choice."
She couldn't help smiling. "I know. It makes sense to keep the same name I started with in the army and that's that. But outside work, I like it Dylan, I like we have the same name. It means something to me." She said feeling like she had to say it before she went to Germany but feeling awkward and vulnerable at the same time.
Dylan pulled her close. "It means something to me too."
"The dog will get confused otherwise. You know, when they call his name at the vets. 'Why do I have a different name than daddy?'" Sam said the last in a squeaky voice, laughing into his chest.
"A different name than mummy you mean, since you'll be away lots. Anyway, we are clear that it's going to be a dog and not a baby-substitute, yes? It's not sleeping on the bed Sam! And this will be the last time we mention the names mummy and daddy in relation to a dog. We aren't complete weirdoes'." Dylan said horrified at the thought.
"Alright, but remember don't commit to anything without telling me first. If I come back and there's a Great Dane sleeping in my spot I won't be happy. What we want is a nice rescue dog or puppy. And…."
"Yes Sam I remember, no yappy dogs, poncy dogs or fluffy dogs." He recited back in mock patient tone.
"Three months. Twelve weeks. That's not so long is it? We can do this can't we?" Sam said, letting her game face drop for a rare moment.
"Of course we can. Don't be so dramatic. I'll be over in a month and I expect you to show me all the sights of Paderborn. I'll expect all the good views and places of historical and cultural significance." Sam raised an eyebrow and regarded him sceptically.
"Fine, I'll expect a good restaurant and for you to actually be off duty."
"Done." Sam agreed.
"So this is it, your final placement of your F1 year." He kissed her head. "Good luck darling."
Sam let go of him and picked up her backpack "Thanks grumpy. Sure you still want to drive me to Birmingham in that bucket of bolts?"
"Yes." He said, grabbing her other bag.
"I'm coming back, you know." She said seriously
"I know. I'll be here." He met her eyes for a moment before shooing her out of the door.