Okay here's the latest. Just gonna say up front, this chapter turned into something very unexpected by the end, but I just decided to run with it. We'll see how it goes. Thanks so much though Bookworm, indigo, lipamo. And also thanks to anyone who glanced at Snippets! Should have an update for that soon. In the meantime, take this as you will.
"Carrie? Carrie, honey wake up," Abby said, gently shaking Carrie's shoulder as she stirred, frowned up at her.
"Abby, what the...I just got to sleep!"
"I need you to come downstairs with me now. Right now!"
"Why? What's going on?" she asked. Seeing the look on Abby's face she felt her stomach knot in eight different places.
"Damn it! Abby just tell me what's-"
"Just put this on and come with me," Abby ordered, helping Carrie into the gray flannel robe she'd grabbed out of the closet.
Fearfully standing, following her to the elevator, when Carrie saw her press the button for the E.R floor her mouth went dry.
"Fuck. Fuck!" she muttered, darting out of the car as soon as the metal doors opened. Right as Brody was rolled past on a stretcher.
"Oh my God. Br..Brody? BRODY!"
Her path blocked by an EMT and a nurse, Carrie swore when she saw his gurney rolled through the double doors.
"Shit...fucking..."
Brushing past the nurse she ran up, peered through the glass of the door. Seeing Brody bloodied up, unconscious, tears sprang to her eyes. "Fuck!"
Chin wobbling before her eyes went cold, stormed over Carrie whipped around. "What happened to him?! What the fuck happened to him?!"
"Ma'am if you just try and calm-"
"Get your hands off of me!" she snapped, shoving the EMT aside.
"Honey just sit down, okay? Sit down," Abby coaxed, taking her by the arm.
Snorting, Carrie reluctantly joined her on a nearby bench. Breathing heavy she wiped at her eyes. Forced herself not to fall apart until she had answers.
"I have to know what happened. I..I need to know," she said coldly. Biting her lip Abby sighed.
"I don't know the whole story."
"Then why the fuck did you bring me here?!" Carrie spat. "If you don't know what actually happened and these assholes are refusing to talk to me then why am I here?" she cried.
"You keep saying that I need routine, rest. That I need to fucking relax! And instead of letting me do that you drag...Jesus! I thought you were my friend!"
"I am, honey! I am," Abby assured, reaching over to rub her back as Carrie bowed her head. Chin quivering again she cradled her belly, took shaky breaths.
"Shh, shh, that's it. Deep breaths, it's alright now," the older woman soothed, speaking again after a beat.
"Carrie, I found out and told you because I knew if you found out from anyone else it'd just make it worse. They probably wouldn't even let you out of the psych unit to find out how Brody was doing."
Nodding, realizing she was all too likely right about that Carrie sighed, looked back at her. "How did you even find out? You never work the fucking night shift."
"I got a call."
"From who, a friend?"
"Carrie..."
"Look just tell me, okay? Who you heard it from isn't going to make this any worse," she scoffed as Abby nodded, swallowed hard before speaking.
"Saul called me."
"Saul?" Carrie repeated, only half listening as Abby said he'd been at the scene after it happened at his house, wanted to come down and explain.
All her mind was letting her think of was that Brody had gone to see him tonight, gone to the house of a man that had long hated his guts.
If Brody hadn't gone, none of this would've happened. He wouldn't be hurt and in the fucking hospital. She wouldn't be sitting here stressed out of her mind right now.
"Carrie? Honey, are you listening? Did you-"
Following the blonde's eyes to the blood on Saul's shirt as he walked in the E.R, Abby nervously stood up as Carrie approached him. "Carrie, Carrie!" she called.
"Good, Abby got you down here," Saul said. "Carrie, there's something I have to-"
"What the fuck happened!" Carrie shouted, taking him aback.
"Carrie, I-"
"You asked Brody to come to your house tonight. Why?!"
"He said he wanted to talk, what does that even-"
"You couldn't bring him to a bar? Some public place?"
"What are you saying?!" Saul scoffed. "You think that I-"
"You ask him to see you and he's on a stretcher in the ER the same night. You think that's a coincidence?!"
"Jesus Christ, Carrie. Just try and calm-"
"Calm down?!" Carrie snorted. "Brody was injured tonight on your watch, Saul! His blood is all over your fucking shirt!"
"You're scared and stressed. I get that. But I won't have this conversation with you when you won't let me get a goddamned word in!"
"Get a word in, why? So you can tell me I'm throwing my life away again?"
"Do you not remember one bit of the conversation we just had? I told you I was going to help you help him!"
"Yeah, help him into the hospital!"
Taking a breath to keep from snapping Saul rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"You think I wanted this? What happened to Brody was-"
"It shouldn't have happened!" Carrie snarled, hand going to her hair as she started pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. "I..it shouldn't have happened, it shouldn't have! I...fuck." she muttered.
Seeing how agitated she looked, sounded, fearing what this could turn into if she didn't intervene, Abby walked over, got in her path.
"Carrie, c'mon now. I need you to try and settle dow-"
"I'll settle down when I know that he's fucking alright!" Carrie snapped.
Glancing at the double doors she knew she wouldn't be able to get past tonight, she turned on her heel, choked out that she needed some air. Luckily Abby and Saul both opted to let her.
Cutting through the lobby to a stairwell, she went out a side door where she knew staff and nurses went outside on their breaks. Seeing a doctor outside smoking, glad her loose robe was obscuring her bump, Carrie walked up, reached for a pack of cigarettes in the back lab coat pocket.
"Excuse me!" Reaching back the dark haired man gripped her wrist. "What on earth do you think you're, you are a patient in this hospital!"
"And you work in oncology, Dr. Khan," Carrie scoffed, her eyes flicking up from his ID to meet his brown ones. Yanking her hand back she crossed her arms, watched him slip the cigarettes into his breast pocket.
"Guess the rumor's true. Doctors are the worst patients."
"It appears that you're in the running as well," Khan retorted. His refined British accent sending a tingle up Carrie's spine as she admired his bronze skin, built body.
"I won't say anything though if you won't."
"About us being horrible patients?" Khan frowned as she moved closer.
"No," she laughed. "About the smokes."
Reaching up, tracing the opened pack with her fingertip she smiled deviously. Heart skipping when he took hold of her wrist again, lowered her hand.
"I can not in good conscience offer you one. It would be irresponsible."
"You always need to be responsible?" Carrie asked softly, moving even closer before she felt a sharp kick. And she judged from Khan's face, his stepping back he felt it as well.
"When it comes to patients, expectant patients I feel it's an important trait, yes," Khan said coldly as she let out a snort, turned away.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked. "Are you alright?"
"Oh yeah. Yeah I'm fine. I'm fucking fantastic, you can't figure that out?"
Pulling the robe more around her she shivered, prompting Khan to slip off his lab coat, drape it over her shoulders. Seeing he'd left the cigarettes in the pocket Carrie frowned.
"What happened to your good conscience?" she scoffed, removing the pack.
"If you wish to have one that's your right. But I wouldn't recommend it."
When she reached for one, twirled it between her fingertips, Khan sighed.
"I am trying to quit. Truthfully." he admitted.
"I started to try and self-medicate. Sounds stupid saying it though, I know," Carrie admitted.
"I've heard worse."
"It was a way to calm down. Come to grips. It's not a habit though. It never has been," she insisted, getting a skeptical look. Reaching into the pocket again for the lighter she flicked the flame on.
"What is that there, dangling from the pocket of your robe?" Khan asked curiously, seeing what looked like a green braided rope loop.
"None of your fucking business," Carrie spat, gearing to light and take a long drag from the cigarette. Just being around the smoke from his was starting to take the edge off.
"I did offer you my lab coat," Khan reminded. "Does that not earn me one question asked and answered?"
Rolling her eyes Carrie lowered the cigarette, reached into the robe pocket and removed the purse.
"It's something I brought that my daughter made for me. A handbag. She braided it."
"It's lovely. May I?" Khan asked, holding his hand out.
"Why? You want one?" Carrie scoffed.
"It looks like a purse my mother owned. One my daughter is attempting to recreate."
"You have a daughter?" she asked as he nodded.
"She'll be ten this spring. How old is yours?"
"Her seventh birthday is coming up soon."
Softly smiling Carrie handed over the purse, brought the cigarette to her lips right as Khan unzipped the bag, getting her glaring.
"Excuse me! Did I fucking say that you could-"
"Your photograph was stuck in the zipper. I didn't think you'd want it to tear."
When he handed her the photograph, one of her and Farrah and Brody they'd taken in front of the waterfall, she nodded, blinked back tears.
"It's a lovely picture. The three of you together. You really wish to jeopardize that...?" Taking the cigarettes and lighter back he arched a brow. "The chance of making it four?"
His eyes on her, reaching up with a trembling hand for the cigarette in her mouth Carrie turned away. Tossed it down to stamp out with the toe of her shoe.
"Yeah. Like I'm jeopardizing it," she muttered, clearly agitated. "I'm the only reason the four of us have a half a shot at being happy! I'm the one who's been stuck here for four plus months. I fucking commit myself so he has his second chance but then he gets scared and shuts down and cuts and runs and ends up unconscious or in a fucking coma for two weeks. And now he's being treated here as a patient while I'm a patient and pregnant and panicked. All while Farrah's left abandoned and likely angry and it's all just fucked up and..fuck! FUCK!"
Watching her stamp at the cigarette butt with her entire foot now, swearing and muttering as one tear slid down her face, then another, when Khan heard her voice crack he walked up, took hold of her from behind. Surprised when she didn't fight him off or swear, just broke down against his chest.
Rubbing her back, feeling compelled to be of some comfort to her he went back over in his head what he'd heard of her rant.
"Where is he being treated? What floor of the hospital?" he asked as she sniffled, shook her head.
"He was brought into the E.R. But I don't know who's treating him, if he's still there. They wouldn't let me in to see him at all!"
"I see," Khan said, getting a look.
"Let me guess, you think you know a way around that," Carrie scoffed.
"Well there's only one way to know for sure..."
Yanking his lab coat off her shoulders he rolled his eyes.
"And I think for it I best look the part," he smirked, getting an eye roll in return before Carrie followed him back inside.