So I was really excited to report that I finished the final chapter of this story, only to realise I posted last week that I did that...Ah well...
If this was death, it was honestly rather boring. She was uncertain of what the painful jolts she felt were, but she had felt no more since hearing the sound of asystole on the edges of her consciousness. After that moment, everything had ceased. The voices, the pain, they had disappeared, leaving her in this cold darkness with no way to get back to the joyous experience of dying. It was all rather plain now, and Alex felt as though in a way, she'd been lied to about what death was going to be like.
She had no way to tell time, and so the expanse felt like it lasted forever and for no time. Each minute was simultaneously an hour and a second. She supposed that she was beyond the realm of time now though. To be dead was to be free of human constrictions. But now, she felt more constricted than ever.
Slowly, she became aware of sounds. They were just as distant as the flatline tone she had heard, but also somehow nearer. Alex could not make out what any individual sound was, and they buzzed angrily around the corners of her consciousness. She grew irritated as they continued. She was dead. Whatever happened to resting in peace?
If Alex had a voice, she would tell them to go away. The freedom to move had disappeared after the jolts had run through her nonexistent body, so she couldn't even try to get away from them.
The buzzing grew louder and louder, closer and closer, until finally, it all disappeared as one word broke the noise.
"Bolly."
Her thoughts stopped immediately and her mind wrapped around the two syllables like they were her only lifeline. Gene. He was there, sounding as though he was right beside her, but she couldn't turn to look to see if he was really there. Her body, or whatever the equivalent of it was, was paralysed. She wanted to open her eyes, to throw her arms around him in a gesture she knew he wouldn't appreciate. Instead, all she could do was listen for more of his voice in the empty darkness of possible death.
"You have to fight, Alex. Modern medicine isn't going to help you if you decide not to fight. They've tried lightening the sedation to help you breathe on your own, but you won't even do that. C'mon, Drake. You have far more drive than that. Prove everyone wrong."
So apparently she was alive, but only just. How had she made it? She knew she was as good as dead when she collapsed on the floor of the flat. She tried to remember anything that would help, but there was nothing. Everything ended with her staring at Gene across the room. She had known she was too far gone, but against all odds, she was apparently ventilated in a hospital room.
That meant she needed to fight. But how? She had thought she was fighting in the 1980's to get back home to Molly, but that fight was fruitless. Somehow she knew her life in the future was over.
"Bolly," his voice said again. "Come back to us, Bolly."
His voice sounded close. She could actually feel his presence. It felt as though he was right next to her, as though if she tried, she could reach out and touch him. She wanted so badly to do so, and found herself searching for any feeling in her limbs.
It could have been seconds, days or years as far as she knew, but eventually, she became aware of the feeling of her hands. They felt leaden, and she knew without trying that she couldn't move them. She continued to push herself, searching for the rest of her limbs, her body so that maybe she would be able to wake up. Eventually, after what felt like decades, sensation crawled from the bottom of her toes, up through her legs, spreading over her torso and down her arms to her heavy hands. Feeling tickled up the back of her neck, prickling over her cheeks, until finally, she was able to feel her eyelids.
"Drake." Gene's voice again, but harsher. "Enough is enough. Stop playing silly buggers and wake up." There was worry behind the terseness, and she knew he was just trying to hide how he felt. If she could move, she would smile. She heard Gene sigh, before another voice entered the room.
"Mr. Hunt, visiting hours are over. You need to go." She didn't want him to leave. Alex knew she was very close to waking up, to protest, but she still couldn't move. Instead she had to listen as he left, and sounds faded soon after in what she realised was sleep.
Alex spent the next several hours drifting between sleep and wake, diving deep into sleep, but never fully waking up. As much as she tried, she couldn't break whatever was keeping her under. She heard nurses coming in and out, felt them taking her vitals, but anytime they said her name, she was unable to respond. She began to despair that any type of wakefulness would never approach her again.
She heard a shuffle of feet as a group of people walked into the room. "Alexandra Drake, gunshot wound to the chest, very critical when she arrived," someone droned. "She has not woken up since arrival. GCS is currently seven, weaning from painkillers and other sedative drugs which should raise the score. She failed three breathing trials, but has been off the ventilator since yesterday noon. By the end of the day we're hoping for a GCS of fourteen or fifteen."
So she was medicated. Gene must not have realised that she was being kept in a coma. It made sense why her body was so heavy and why she was unable to wake. The worry and panic she had been feeling disappeared. She didn't need to. She would be awake by the end of the day. Alex let herself drift off again, content that she would be able to open her eyes soon.
Finally, after several more sleep and wake cycles, she noticed that her eyelids felt different. Where before, they felt leaden, now, they merely felt heavy. She attempted to pull one open, mildly pleased when she was able to see a crack of the world beyond. She blinked, forcing her second eye to open with the first. Bright light assaulted her eyes, and she squinted her eyes against it, peering around her hospital room.
She was alone, which meant she was still critical at worst, and very serious at best. Alex supposed that being kept in a medical coma kept her in the private room. She felt something in her neck and realised that a central line had been put in place, so she could receive many different medications at once. Currently, only two bags hung on the IV pole, one of which was a bag of blood. A blood pressure cuff was wrapped around her arm, and she could see patches on her chest which she knew were for a heart in all, she didn't feel any worse for wear. She was sure there were massive amounts of painkillers in her system, making her feel this numb. She was thankful for them, thinking about the pain she was in before she had passed out in the flat.
A nurse walked into the room at that point and smiled. "Miss Drake, I'm glad you're with us."
Alex smiled and tried to greet her, but the soreness of her throat caught her off guard. Instead, she let out a hoarse, strangled sound that may have been interpreted as 'Hi,' but could have been anything.
The nurse noticed this and smiled with gentle amusement, "The soreness will go away in a few days. You were on the ventilator for a while. It's only to be expected."
"Gene," she managed to rasp, her voice barely above a whisper.
"He's been coming during visiting hours. Those start in a little bit. Can you tell me where you are?"
"Hospital," Alex replied. Each syllable she spoke felt like knives against her throat.
The nurse nodded and smiled. "Who's the PM?"
"Thatcher."
"And what's your name?"
"Alex Drake."
The nurse smiled again. "Sorry for the silly questions. We like to make sure that you're alert and oriented."
Alex said nothing, familiar enough with hospital procedures after her last stay. The nurse busied herself checking Alex's blood pressure, and said nothing more before writing a note in her chart and leaving the room.
Alex felt her eyes growing heavy and let herself drift back to sleep, but was woken shortly after by an irritated voice.
"Jesus bloody Christ. Every time I come in here, you're sleeping. You need to wake up, you dozy mare. I don't care if they have you bloody medicated. Wake up!"
Alex smiled inwardly at his voice, slowly opening one eye, then the other to look at Gene. He looked rather the worse for wear, with dark bruising still evident around both eyes. He had a cut on his forehead that was stitched shut and his casted arm in a sling. Only a few buttons were done on his shirt, showing off his vest. Alex assumed that between his temper and the sling he could not get more done with one hand before giving up. Underneath the vest, she caught a glimpse of a plaster.
"You look like shit," she said, her voice hoarse.
His face turned from relief to annoyance in an instant. "Says you, who isn't even out of hospital yet."
"How did I survive?"
Gene stared at her, his face and voice betraying nothing as he spoke. "You almost didn't." He told her about CID's daring rescue and subsequent capture of the two men, his voice growing animated for that part of the story and then turning back to total seriousness for the rest.
"They wouldn't tell me anything about you for the longest time. Ray finally told me, after I threatened demotion." He grew distant for a moment before continuing. "You barely made it through surgery. He chose exactly the right spot to hit. It had been so long since you were shot, it complicated things. Add to that your internal injuries...You had a machine breathing for you for four days, and every time they thought they could take you off, you failed the breathing trial. It was like you weren't fighting."
Alex looked away at that moment. She could remember flashes, bits of voices since she had passed out in the flat, but nothing solid. Somehow, however, she knew that she hadn't fought very hard to stay alive. They sat in silence for several minutes before Gene spoke again.
"You have your memory back."
She nodded. "I can give a statement about the boat."
Gene's mouth opened to say something, but at that moment another nurse walked into the room. She looked at Alex, then at Gene and an expression of disapproval washed over her face.
"So you're back," she said, glaring at Gene. "How's the arm doing?"
"Just bloody fine," he responded, bristling. "I took eight paracetamol earlier and I'm dandy."
"Too much paracetamol is bad for the liver," the nurse said. "With your drinking habits, you'll be here with liver failure in a matter of months." With that, she huffed out, completely ignoring Alex.
"You two have a history?" she asked.
"I wasn't happy to be here, Bollykecks. She and I got into an argument about Ray bringing me whiskey in. I may have disagreed strongly with her recommendations and ended up leaving."
Alex couldn't do anything except sigh and smile. They sat in companionable silence for a while as sleep tugged at her again. She refused to give in while Gene was there, but eventually, he noticed her drowsiness.
"Go to sleep," he said gruffly. "I'll be back tomorrow during visiting hours." With that, she let drowsiness take her, drifting off quietly into a dreamless slumber.
If you're wondering about the story I teased at the end of the last chapter, I have gotten about two chapters further in it and I still have a ways to go before it finishes. It's amazing how much less writing time you have when you work full time instead of writing in class all day every day...(I definitely NEVER did that...ever...) I still haven't decided about posting, but I've had so much fun writing it!