Carla was fidgety. Fidgety was probably an understatement. She hated hospitals, she'd seen too many people she loved die; too many accidents and too much heartbreak. She hated the smell of them. She hated the crisp white sheets, and listening to other patients suffering. She hated how so many of the nurses seemed to lack compassion.

She supposed she was lucky, having her own room rather than being shoved on a random ward, or worse, left in a corridor because there were no beds free… but most of all she hated the loneliness. The uncertainty. The waiting.

The door finally opened, her hand flying to her chest as the momentary panic caused her heart to race painfully.

"Morning, Carla."

"Morning."

He was looking at her notes as he approached her bed.

"How are you feeling?"

She had a pounding headache still, but he didn't need to know that.

"Fine." She lied. "Will I be able to go home today?"

"Oh- I'd like to keep you in another night."

"Well, I'll discharge myself."

He looked up from the notes for the first time, the anxiety on her face causing him only more concern; and no matter how fine she claimed to be, he could tell she was in pain.

"You could, but I'd really feel better if you'd stay here, just one more night. Then see how you're feeling tomorrow, hm?"

"But I'm fine. The scan was fine. There are people sicker than me that could use this bed."

"Carla, you were very unwell. You were sick several times, and more serious symptoms can develop even after 24 hours… 48 hours." He tried to reason.

"I wasn't sick because of my head." She explained. "I- I was sick because I was… afraid. I was… attacked… a few months ago, and... the guy that threatened me yesterday he- he threatened to do the same thing and I just…" she felt the same sick feeling coming back just at the thought of it. "That's why I was sick."

"You can't be sure of that. Look, even if that was the cause, you need to be under observation for at least 48 hours after a concussion like this, and you've already told us you live alone. So, the only place you're going to get that observation, is here. And that aside, you're not fine. You're in pain, aren't you."

She frowned, but there was no point lying when he clearly didn't want to discharge her yet.

"I've a bit of a headache."

.

"Come on, Si, we're gonna be late."

Simon came out of his bedroom, looking sulky.

"I don't want to go to school. I don't feel well."

Peter sighed, seeing he hadn't even got dressed and wondering how likely it was he actually felt ill, or was just playing for attention.

"What's wrong?"

Simon hesitated, then moved both hands to his stomach.

"I feel sick. And I've got a temperature."

"Oh aye,"

"Honest!"

"I thought you liked school in the run up to Christmas, you get to play games and make cards."

"Exactly, it's not like I'll be missing out on learning anything."

Peter smirked. Sometimes Simon seemed a little too clever for his years.

"If I give in, are you gonna be well behaved again when we go to visit Carla?"

He pondered it, then finally nodded.

"Yep."

"Okay. But this is a one off. You've got to go in tomorrow."

"Yep." Simon grinned, happy to have got his own way. "Can we go see Leanne today, too?"

"Oh- I don't know. We'll see."

.

"Hey."

Carla glanced up to see Greg stood in the doorway, and pulled the flimsy hospital gown around herself a little tighter.

"Uh, hi." She shifted slightly, feeling awkward.

"I thought I'd come see how you were… and, I thought you might be needing these back."

He held up her flat keys as he approached her bed, offering them to her with a small smile.

"Oh- thanks," She relaxed slightly as she took her keys back. "I'd completely forgot."

"It's all locked up."

She gave him a small smile.

"Thanks for- for helping… and for calling Peter for me."

He took her appreciation as an invitation to sit down.

"Has he been to see you?"

She nodded.

"Last night."

There was an awkward silence, and she saw his gaze move to the bump on her head. He winced.

"Looks nasty."

"Feels it, too."

He let out an uncomfortable laugh at her sarcastic tone, running a hand back through his hair and getting to his feet.

"I'll- I'll go. Sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

She softened at his honesty and concern.

"No- stay. I'm sorry, sarcasm is like my default." She shrugged. "It's nice to have some company, if that's okay?"

He smiled.

"I could get you a cuppa?"

"I'd like that."

.

Peter headed into the pub, seeing Stella and feeling a tightening in his chest at the icy glare she shot his way. He picked Simon up as though he could protect himself with the little lad, and sure enough her expression changed. She had no desire to make Simon feel as uncomfortable as his dad.

"Peter."

"Stella." He cleared his throat. "Is Leanne about? Si was hoping to see her for a little bit."

"You poorly, love?"

Simon nodded, not wanting to get his dad in trouble.

"I've got a stomach ache."

She eyed Peter warily, then looked back to Simon, seeing the hopeful look in his eyes.

"Come through the back."

Leanne looked up as the door opened, seeing Simon wriggle down from Peter's hold and bound towards her for a hug.

"Hey! What are you doing here?"

She hugged him tightly, glaring at Peter with an expression eerily similar to Stella's, before turning her attention back to Simon.

"I missed you. Can I stay with you for a bit? I'm not well."

"Oh I- I don't know. Shouldn't you be in bed if you're not well?"

"Dad's got to go to the hospital."

"The hospital?" she looked at Peter with concern, unable to stop herself worrying for him despite everything that had happened.

"His friend's in there, I don't mind going with him but I'd rather stay here with you."

She nodded.

"Okay, you stay here with me for a bit."

Peter felt relieved. He hadn't been sure how she'd react to him dropping in on her like this, but he was glad she was being civil – for Simon's sake if no-one elses.

"Thanks, Leanne."

"I'm not doing it for you."

.

.

.

=)