DISCLAIMER: I do not own BBC Casualty or any of its characters.

A/N: Hello all! Apologies for the very late update. My computer has been a nightmare recently, and as I can't publish from mobile I've had to wait ages to post this chapter. Thank you for bearing with me! And thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. I initially wrote this chapter to expand on Dylan and Faith's friendship, but I got a bit carried away in this chapter and Pravi came quite vividly to life. So this is mostly her chapter. If you have time to leave a review please do. I'd love to know your thoughts. As always, enjoy x

UNTIL WE GO DOWN

- Where Do We Go -

The tarmac is losing its warmth, the heat seeping out between her fingers. Boots tucked beneath her, arm pinned over her chest, Pravi waits for Dylan to return with the much-anticipated news that help is on the way. Her stomach rumbles loudly in protest, followed by a familiar clenching - a pang of hunger. Rolling her head back, she conjures up the juiciest meal she can imagine: a beef burger sandwiched between two pieces of thick crusty bread, drizzled with fried onions and a dollop of spicy sauce.

Her stomach gurgles again.

"This is all my fault," Pravi admits dolefully. "If I'd have just settled for a normal cheese and pickle sarnie from the supermarket we wouldn't be here."

A few metres away the lorry driver sits with his head in his hand. He shrugs.

"This ain't your fault, kid."

"I should have been concentrating on the job," she disagrees. "Not my stomach."

"People get cranky when they're hungry."

Pravi rolls her eyes, ignoring his light-hearted attempts at consolation - though deep down she appreciates it. An uncomfortably tight ring of pain encircles her wrist, her arm hanging like a deadweight from the safety pin. Wrinkling her nose, she gazes sadly at the ambulance.

"Jan's gonna kill me this time for sure. Jasmine's only been on the road five weeks and now look at her."

The lorry driver looks at her blankly.

"Jasmine?"

"Oh." Pravi chuckles. "The ambulance. I always like to give them a name. Makes it more personal, you know. They're part of the team too. I don't know, I guess I'm just the sentimental type." Her smile fades as she pictures her manager's disapproving and disappointed expression. At least they're all still alive and mostly in one piece. "I shouldn't have even offered Faith and Dylan a lift. It's against protocol."

"You were being kind," the driver says. "No crime in that."

She looks at him, finally, and realises she hasn't asked him his name.

"I'm Pravi, by the way."

"Dan," he replies, returning her wave. "And for the record it's my fault - the accident - not yours. I wasn't looking where I was going and I was well over the speed limit."

She starts to interrupt, already prepared to take the blame, but he continues regardless.

"No. No, you let me be honest, okay? I wasn't even meant to be on this road," Dan mutters in frustration. "The GPS went on my Sat Nav. I hate those bloody things."

He frowns glumly at the ground, rubs the sore spot on his jaw where a purplish bruise has begun to bloom.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Pravi prompts gently.

"About what?"

"Whatever's bothering you," she says. "And I don't mean the accident. I'm a good listener."

Dan groans, rubs a hand across his brow as he chuckles.

"You know, you ain't stop talking since he left."

"Well, then," Pravi grins. "Now's your chance to butt in. You have the floor. Or the road."

Laughing lightly, the lorry driver rolls his shoulders and then, after a moment's pause, begins his tale.

"My boss rang to book me in for another shift," he says. "I'd already been on the go for eleven hours but I just couldn't say no, could I? Didn't have time for my usual break so I thought: you know what? To hell with it all. I'll just carry on. Thirteen hours in and I can barely keep me eyes open. But, I'd get the slip if I was late. Can't afford to lose this job. An' I ain't making excuses either. I'm just sayin'. I need my job."

He looks so lost sitting there, in the middle of the road, cradling his head in one hand. He looks, Pravi muses, like someone in need of a break. Or simply in want of a friendly face to speak to.

"You know, there's nothing wrong in saying no from time to time," Pravi points out gently. "Speaking from experience here. Once you've learned that lesson life gets a lot easier, believe me. And I mean a lot."

"Yeah, I know," Dan sighs, running a hand over his face. "I just wish it was that simple. Frank's not the kind of guy you say no to. Frank - my boss - he don't take kindly to that sort of thing. But then, I guess he's under a lot of pressure trying to keep the business goin' with the pandemic and everything."

"Doesn't mean you have to overwork yourself. They put those 'tiredness kills' signs up for a reason, you know."

"Yeah," Dan nods forlornly. "I know."

"Tell you what." Pravi points a finger at him firmly. "Next time he tries to book you on an extra shift you tell him no. And I mean straight away. Don't think about it. Don't hesitate. Don't back down. There's no point putting your health at risk, especially at a time like this. Doesn't matter what the situation is, people should always come first."

He looks at her oddly, curiously, as if he doesn't quite understand her words. Or rather, as if he hadn't expected to hear them. And then he breaks into a smile, a real, proper smile that lights up his face.

"The world would be a much better place if people actually believed that."

"Guess you and me will have to spread the word, eh?" Pravi grins playfully, and then sobers. "It's all we've got in the end, you know. Each other. It's all that matters."

"That's very profound."

She taps her temple with a knowing expression.

"People say I talk too much. But I think as well, you know." She cranes her neck and shouts in the direction of the ambulance. "Hey, Faith, you doing okay in there?"

"Yeah," comes the muffled reply, though her tone doesn't sound as confident as it had before. "Fine."

"Just checking you're not getting bored of my company," Pravi teases lightly. "We'll get you out of there soon. Promise. Won't be long."

It's quiet on the road. Unearthly, almost. Save for the running of the river and the creaking of the fence, there is little else to fill the silence. And she feels suddenly as if she's been transported into one of her brother's favourite dystopian films. As if this is all that's left of the world.

"Just so you know," Dan starts, the words tumbling from his lips, eager to explain. "I didn't say no to the extra shifts because I couldn't. I mean, that's the main reason, yeah, but my wife..." A markable pause. "She got Covid, you see."

Oh.

"She's been at home recovering," Dan continues, putting on a brave, carefully rehearsed mask. "Horrible, it was, but she's getting there. I been doing extra hours to make ends meet. Ain't seen my kids for two months now."

"I'm sorry," Pravi offers sympathetically. "How old are they?"

"Mackenzie's twelve. Noah's going to be seven next month." He smiles, the faintest laughter lines appearing around his eyes. "I call them sometimes, you know, over the internet like, but it ain't the same not being able to go home and see them. Can't with this job."

"Must be pretty tough."

"It is, yeah," Dan agrees, runs a hand through his sandy hair. "Can't wait for this whole bloody thing to be over to be honest."

"You and me both."

Her vision swims suddenly, fizzling with light. A dull ache in her wrist; another in her left leg. Strangely cold.

"You alright?" Dan asks.

"Yeah." Pravi summons a smile, though the odd feeling remains. "Fine. Just my wrist hurts a bit. And my head." She shrugs it off, focuses again on the juicy burger waiting to be devoured by her imagination. "Probably just shock."

...

Pravi had been right about one thing. The journey to the main road was certainly more than a ten minute walk. He's counted every step, every metre, and whilst it was tempting to check the time, there'd been little point in stopping to look at his watch after the twelfth minute had passed. It would only serve to infuriate him further.

Occasionally he feels the urge to run, to ignore his physical injuries and press on without another thought. But his legs quiver, as pliable as jelly, threatening to give way without warning. And so he walks on, steadily, determinedly, the pain in his shoulder increasing with every sudden jolt in his step.

There's not a soul in sight.

Fifteen minutes now - at a guess. The faintest sound of traffic reaches his ears. Or is it merely the rustling of the wind? A glimmer of hazy red over the black tarmac. Hope rekindled.

His pace quickens, good arm waving urgently to flag down the approaching vehicle. Elation floods his chest, and then mild panic as the car comes to a sudden, swerving stop.

All the words he meant to relay jumble in his mind as he meets the driver's eye. Above the green striped mask her eyes widen in fear, wondering if the man standing in the middle of the road before her is out of his mind. A moment later the break lifts and the car begins to reverse.

"Wait!" Dylan races after her. "Please! Wait. There's been an accident!" He points in the direction he'd come from, yelling desperately at the top of his voice. "An accident! We need help!"

Again the car stops. Tentatively, the woman steps out of her vehicle. He can't fathom why she's wearing a mask inside her own car, but then - if it makes her feel safe - why shouldn't she?

"You alright?" she asks, eyes drawn to the dried blood smeared across his face.

Dylan steps closer; she takes a step back, wielding the car door like a shield.

"There's been an accident," Dylan explains hurriedly, barely stopping for breath. "An ambulance and a lorry. Can you call the emergency services? As quickly as you can."

Something shifts in her gaze at his words, a clear-headedness that he himself can't quite grasp hold of. The woman squints at him thoughtfully and takes out her phone.

"Road blocked ahead, is it?"

"Yes."

"Right." She dials the number, bobs her head as she waits, and then frowns. "No good. There's no signal here. I'll head back to the junction and call there. Make sure everyone knows not to come down this way." She nods encouragingly. "We'll get you sorted. Don't you worry."

"Thank you." Dylan breathes. "Thank you so much."