DISCLAIMER: I do not own BBC Casualty or any of its characters.
A/N: Hi all! Here is the penultimate chapter. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far! I really need to catch up on iPlayer as I haven't actually watched any more Casualty episodes after this one. This chapter's a little shorter than the rest - a short break before the deep plunge into the final chapter. Please review if you have the time. As always, enjoy x
UNTIL WE GO DOWN
- Emerge -
Light speckles over the dark, bursts of pale colour morphing into cascades of empty thought. Time swirls around her without purpose, no more than an infinite rhythm, a beat without end. And then a figure, shrouded in white, speaking words she cannot fully comprehend.
"Faith?"
She wakes with a sharp jerk, pulled harshly from the grip of sleep. Blood rushes in her ears. Impossibly loud. The light is blinding, and it takes a moment for her bleary eyes to adjust.
He's still there. She is still alive, breathing in air that is thin with age. She doesn't know how long she has lain there, how much longer she has before the void opens and calls her back. There is only a quiet, unspeakable relief. An irrepressible joy in seeing another's face.
His face.
Blurry, but instantly recognisable.
"Hello."
His gaze is unblinking, his expression set hard with pain and something else she doesn't understand.
"Hello," she whispers back.
"How're you feeling?"
Her attempt at a smile is answer enough.
"We're on our way to the hospital," he explains quietly. "To the ED. Everything's going to be fine."
Hands. Voices. The slow pulse of something being released into her veins. Figures observing, watching, monitoring.
There's a streak of dried blood across his cheek. He looks a little dishevelled, his hair ruffled as if he's dragged his fingers through it too many times. She shouldn't stare, but somehow it's impossible to tear her eyes away.
"You're going to be fine," he says again.
Her expression must be telling.
Only when he moves away does the overwhelming fear return. Panic clutches at her lungs, and she calls his name, albeit weakly. Instantly, his face reappears, a deep-set concern in the dark shadows beneath his eyes.
"It's alright. I'm still here."
Raised voices carry through the still air. His face is unreadable. And though she knows the fear is irrational, the need to keep him close is overwhelming.
"I made a promise to be here for you, Faith. No matter what. Okay? I'm still here."
Her limbs are like lead, weighed down by an invisible force. She hasn't the strength to move them.
"Dylan?"
"Yes?"
"Will..." The words are curiously difficult to form, thick and heavy. "Will you hold m-my hand?"
Discomfort flickers over his features.
"Faith, you know I can't-"
"Please?"
For a while he stares at her, his expression piercing. And then shakily, reluctantly, his fingers stretch out, passing over her palm and reaching for the soft fabric of her fleece. The weight of his hand settles on her forearm, gentle and a little uncertain. But it is enough to alleviate her fear.
"Dylan, if... if I don't m-make it-"
"You will. You will, Faith," he interrupts her fiercely. "You are one of the strongest and bravest people I have ever known."
She does not feel brave. If anything she is terrified. And yet it is not her own death that terrifies her. It is the revelation of who she will be leaving behind.
"P-promise me something, Dylan?"
He does not hesitate to answer.
"Anything."
A small voice tells her she is asking too much, that she's once again over-stepping the mark. But her trust in him is implicit. Absolute. And she knows, despite everything they have been through, that he will not let her down.
"I n-need you to t-tell my children that I love them. That I love them so m-much. Tell them to look after each other, and to be brave. Will... Will you d-do that for m-me?" A shattering exhalation. Chest heavy with exertion. "Please?"
That same kindness in his eyes.
"I will," Dylan nods. "And I'll tell them what a brilliant mother they have. How brave and wonderful she is. And how privileged I am to have her as a friend. The best friend anyone could ask for."
She smiles, eyelids drifting shut, the energy to keep them open draining. Dark waters. The patter of rain against the window.
"My invitation still stands by the way," Dylan continues softly. "You and Luka are welcome to visit any time. Dervla will love the company. She's been on her own far too much lately. You just drop me a message as soon as you feel up to it - and, you know, as soon as lockdown permits. I promise to make sure I'm fully stocked with tea and biscuits. How does that sound?"
Ribs contracting. Lungs heavy with trapped laughter.
"That... sounds lovely."
There is still so much she needs to say, so much he needs to know.
"We've been t-through quite a l-lot together," she murmurs. "Haven't we, D-Dylan?"
A gradual realisation, terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. Forbidden. Unthinkable. A persistent feeling she cannot overcome no matter how hard she tries.
"I love you, Faith."
For the briefest moment, in the world between worlds, she imagines she responds in kind.
Somehow he has managed to steal a piece of her heart, and now she fears he might be capable of stealing it in its entirety. And, what is equally frightening, is that part of her wants him to.
Darkness creeps in. A steady beeping increases. Bodies move urgently and his hand slips away, leaving a void of uncertainty. Heaviness. An inviting cold.
"Stay with me, Faith."
He sounds a million miles away.
"Stay with me."
The flashing of emergency lights against the back of her eyelids. Rushed footsteps. A familiar voice calling her name, worn with unbridled anger and concern. Sleep.