Chapter 3: Saccharine

Liz is bringing me my fourth cup of coffee, telling me this is the last one. I'm too fretful as it is. I only take a sip when I see Christian's doctor coming towards us.

"Hi again," she smiles at me courteously, nodding, "your partner is undergoing haemodialysis. We pumped his stomach, just in case he'd taken something else. It's standard procedure. The results of his toxicology examination later indicated that the

anaesthetic was the only thing he took. He's stable, but he's having some difficulties breathing, so he'll remain intubated."

"What's his pulse ox?"

"Ninety. Blood pressure a hundred over sixty, pulse eighty six."

I nod, somewhat relieved. While his blood oxygen level is worrying, he's not that serious at the moment overall. Dr. Mula leaves us and I finally ready to get myself together enough to go and see him. I tell Liz to go home, sleep, I'll be ok now. I'll let her know. She looks at me and asks if I'm sure, but I know she wants to go. It was a big thing she came out for Christian anyway. Or maybe she came for me. Last, I ask her to call Julia and tell her she needs to take Annie to school tomorrow. I don't wanna call her myself, and I certainly don't want to tell her about Christian, mainly because I can predict how concerned she will get, her affection for him seeping through the speaker system of my mobile. I don't wanna deal with that kinda thing right now, what is important now is for my colleague to survive. I'm standing at the door of the room where they had put Christian in. I'm not sure I'm ready for the sight. As I slowly make my way into the room, I know I'm not. I have never seen him so frail, I barely recognise him behind the machines and tubes that are keeping him alive. I know what they are for, still, the fact that it doesn't seem to be Christian, just a body, shocks me. He's never that still, not even when he's sleeping. Sitting down into a chair at the side of the bed, I stare at the body resting within it. I'm stuck watching his chest, going up and down with an artificial rhythm. It somehow reassures me and I start to feel again.

"Hey, partner," I talk to him quietly, clearing my drunken hoarse throat before I continue, "any time you want to wake up is fine by me. You don't have to run and hide from me," I promise, and I mean it. At the time. There is no reaction from the bed, so I add, "hang in there. You hear me?" I notice that my voice has turned into begging now. I don't understand myself. Maybe I over react. I should be angry with him. So I give up on my idea of holding his hand and I lean back into my chair to pass the time for half an hour with watching the line on the monitor bounce progressively more and more regularly. Good sign. I relax. Emotionally and physically exhausted, my thoughts become jumbled and sleep takes over me.

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My eyes shot open as I'm suddenly woken up by something, I'm not sure what. Hospital is fairly quiet at this hour. I notice movement from out of the corner of my eye and I look in that direction to witness Christian's sunken eyes slowly open. He blinks, then he stares into space with blank, desolate eyes that I start to worry if his brain was lacking oxygen for too long, causing some damage. But the look in his eyes changes before long and I wish it didn't. Because the look in them is complete terror, and disbelief. I acknowledge that I was right. He didn't want to be here. Or maybe I misunderstand. Perhaps he's just confused. He starts to thrash about. I hold him down and he tries to push me away, seemingly unaware of who is holding him. I tower over him and our eyes meet. He freezes immediately and I tell him, "you're going to be fine." I more like smirk, than smile, at least allowing myself some negativity towards him. I take pleasure from the fact he didn't succeed when he wanted to, and I don't have time to mull over my feelings to figure out in what way do I mean that myself. Somehow, a low moan reaches me from his throat that has the tube inside it. He points towards it and I realise it must be causing him discomfort.

"You want the tube out?" I ask in my patronizing, doctor like voice.

He nods slightly. I know I'm technically not meant to touch it, but I know that the ventilator is no longer necessary and I'm not going to wait around for somebody to come if he finds it distressing.

He coughs intensely after, then falls back on the bed, trying to recover his breath, "Sean…what have you done?"

He can't talk much yet, but I know he means me saving him and I feel like I wanna slap him. I almost do, "why did you do this?" I ask the question niggling my mind from the moment I saw him on the floor instead.

"Because I can't face you."

Yeah, I knew he'll make me somehow responsible. Fury clenches my jaw. F… him! He has no right! But as quickly as my rage rises, it disappears just the same, my heart twisting at I can see the vulnerability in his eyes as they start to fill up with tears. He's just a child. And his child is my child, but he is one himself. A child I have to look after, just like I have to look after his son. They all want me to take care of them, including Julia. And that is what actually gives me the strength in life, that people depend on me and I can't crack up. I sigh and sit down on his bed, close to him. I can see his hands trembling. Maybe the effect of the drugs, maybe not. I can't pinpoint the emotion I see in his eyes right now, but I know I have to say something to make it all better. I don't know what I could. Right now, I don't feel like I had forgiven him.

"You need to give me some time to process," I admit, "but I'm here with you right now. Don't you think it means something?"

"It's my fault," I hear him whisper. He's out of air, virtually hyperventilating. I wonder if I did the right thing with the tube, but he looks away from me and the tears start rolling off his cheeks. He struggles into a sitting position just to be able to turn away even more and hide his face from me.

"Calm down," I break the uncomfortable silence in the room. I really had enough of this, "take a deep breath. It's all right," I put my arms around him to underline my words, "I will help you, I promise. It's okay, just calm down. Why don't you lie down and rest for a while," I say with forced calmness, easing him back onto the bed. He's a mess. Although he's always a bit unsure of what life has to offer for him, he doesn't seem to be the man I know. Of course, that's to be expected under the circumstances.

He is breathing deeper now, his eyes half closed, "I...I don't...know what to do."

I squeeze his hand, "we'll figure it out. Just not this, if you don't want me to be angrier with you than I already am. If you try once more, I kill you myself. There is help available. I want you to go to therapy."

"What if I do? What does that change?"

"You know what it does. It teaches you how to handle your emotions, make you understand that you are experiencing something that is very common, very understandable and treatable."

"I'm talking about us," he finishes with his head turned away from me again.

I sigh. I'm so gonna kick his ass again. He wants me to stay involved, "it's probably normal for you to feel guilt as well. Doesn't mean you gotta run away."

"You blame me."

I can't lie, "what else do you want me to do, Christian?"

"It was…hard for me…please…understand…" He still hardly speaks more than syllables. And I'm sure it isn't because of his throat.

"How was I supposed to know anything, when you don't express your feelings and don't reach out for help?"

He swipes his fingers over his brow, "I'm…I feel so mixed up. I hear you, but I have difficulties concentrating to what you are saying."

"That's normal as well," I assure him, he'll be too confounded right now to even know what' wrong with him, "you need to rest. I get Dr. Mula and she'll sort everything for you," I turn to leave.

"Wait!" His voice is louder than ever since he woke up, "Cassy? Dr. Cassidy Mula?"

"Don't tell me you slept with her too."

"A couple of times…" He acknowledges, and I can see he's embarrassed about it.

"You don't want me to call her?"

"Well, I guess…it doesn't matter."

I nod. If he squirms more I'll lose it. This is a medical situation and I should act like it, "you take care of yourself. Try to get some sleep and I'll see you again later on today, okay?"

He nods, probably happy that I leave him alone. God I need sleep myself. I don't have to worry about his immediate well being, he will be under psychiatric care for the next seventy-two hours at least. Standard procedure to stop any further attempts. I'll come back after I slept. He'll need me. I know he's not gonna talk to a psychiatrist. Especially not a woman. He will never tell anything a woman. I need my strength for him.

Tbc.