Firstly, wow, I wasn't expecting such a massive response to this. Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter – I'm really pleased you enjoyed it. This chapter is a little different and could be quite confusing but it will all make sense shortly. I appear to like confusing you all; sorry about that! I've tried to portray a different side to Yvonne in this chapter, hopefully that's worked. Again, like I said previously, I haven't seen the episodes yet so there could be some details that aren't consistent with what actually happened. It will make sense soon if it doesn't already, just bear with me for the moment. My brain works in odd ways, I think that's all you need to remember haha :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Casualty belongs to the BBC. No copyright infringement intended.

Twenty-Four Seven
Chapter 2: Yvonne

Yvonne Rippon sighed, leaning back against the dark coloured kitchen cabinet as the familiar throbbing in her head began to start up once more. Ever since she'd fractured her skull during the riots, she had suffered with headaches. They had been a lot worse than this at first but now they tended to be more manageable, easier to cope with. Unless she got herself worked up or stressed and then they tended to go downhill rapidly but she suspected it was fairly normal for headaches to worsen under stress. The fracture she'd suffered was healed now, it had taken a while but the bones had fused themselves back together and now she had no other side effects aside from the headaches which hadn't become any less frequent, she'd just got used to them. She was lucky that she'd avoided any brain damage, she knew that much although she didn't exactly feel very lucky.

She poured herself a glass of water and padded through to the lounge, curling up on the sofa as her thoughts drifted back to Nick and the life she'd had in Holby before all of this. She wondered what he was doing now, whether he was happy, whether he had anyone else. Whether anything had changed there. She hoped he was happy, whatever he may be doing now. All she wanted was for him to be happy. She hated the way things had turned out and she really did wish she could turn the clock back. If she could, there would be so many things she would have done differently but all that didn't matter. Not really. What's done was done, she couldn't change what had happened; she just had to find a way forward.

She couldn't remember much about what had happened during the riots. If she really thought about it, she remembered being in pain, lots of it but other than that, her memories were hazy. She wasn't sure if it was her mind protecting her from the memories she wasn't ready to deal with yet or whether it was down to something else completely that meant she couldn't recall much of what had happened. She could remember the moment that she'd woken up in a strange place and every instinct had told her that something was wrong. She remembered crying out for Nick but he hadn't been there and he'd never arrived. During her first few weeks of recovery, she'd assumed that he would come and see her but he hadn't. It was only when she'd been so exhausted, so tired of everything, of all the uncertainty that it had all come spilling out. She'd frightened herself and then she had found out why Nick hadn't been there. She could recall that she'd felt vaguely better when she'd learnt it hadn't been his fault he wasn't there but that feeling hadn't lasted for long. She'd been frightened, alone, in a strange place, surrounded by strange people and struggling to deal with her patchy memories of the incident that had landed her there.

Now it was time to go back, time to face up to her demons. Things had settled down in Holby since the riots or so she'd been told. She was struggling to deal with the few bits and pieces she remembered of the riots although she had initially thought that she had been doing a decent job of keeping it under lock and key. Then they had mentioned that they could see she wasn't coping and she'd felt disappointed...ashamed almost. She hated the idea that people who didn't even know her could see how she was failing to deal with the few fragments of memory that she had. It had been a few weeks later that the inevitable suggestion of going back to Holby had come. Initially, she'd been resistant, not wanting to go back; afraid of turning everything on its head but the people around her had kept suggesting it and eventually she'd agreed, rather tentatively, to go back. The anxiety she had felt since agreeing had diminished at all even though it was almost time for her to make that journey back. She wasn't sure she was doing the right thing but somewhere, inside her, she knew that she needed to attempt to deal with everything and it made sense to her, that in order to do that, going back to where it had all happened would be a good first step.

She had booked herself into a bed and breakfast on the outskirts of Holby for a week or so until she figured out where on earth to start. She knew that she had to approach Nick at some point, she had to speak to him but she just wasn't sure what his reaction was going to be. All she wanted was to talk to him, she wasn't expecting anything more from him. After all, the only reason that they were no longer together was because of her. She had died, hadn't she?

The next few days passed incredibly quickly, in fact they felt like they'd gone quicker than most days over the last three years had, and all too soon she was ready to leave. The few possessions that she had gained over the last three years had been packed safely into her bag and she didn't have any loose ends to tie up where she was. Everything she needed an answer to, an end to was back in Holby. She still wasn't sure, even after a couple of days of doing barely anything but thinking about her impending departure, whether she was doing the right thing and if she was completely honest with herself, she wasn't really looking forward to going back at all. She was scared that being back in familiar surroundings would cause the memories to come flooding back but she knew that she had to face up to it all sooner rather than later if she was ever going to move on.

She glanced around briefly, quickly satisfying herself that she hadn't left anything behind before she took a deep breath to calm herself and hitched her bag properly on to her shoulder. She left the little flat that she'd learnt to call home over the last few years and stepped out into the warm sunshine, pulling the door closed behind her. She slid the keys into her pocket and began to walk down the path, deciding that the best course of action for now would be to walk to the train station. It wasn't far, only about ten, fifteen minutes or so and since she had plenty of time before her train was due, she hoped that it might help her feel less stressed about her impending return if she could clear her head before she got on that train.

It hadn't taken as long as she had thought it would to walk to the train station and soon she was on the platform, having bought and paid for her ticket. A fleeting glance at the monitor that informed passengers of train arrivals and departures told her that she still had fifteen minutes or so to kill until her train was due to arrive. The train that would take her out of one nightmare and quite possibly deposit her back into another.

She walked over to a bench and sat down, rubbing her head absent-mindedly. Her headaches always did seem to start up at the most inconvenient of times and she was worried that this one might be worse than her last one that she'd experienced. She knew that stressing only made them worse so she took a couple of deep breaths and dug into her bag, pulling out a bottle of water. She took a few sips, realising that she wasn't even sure if she had any painkillers on her. She just hoped it didn't develop any further. Apparently it was normal to experience headaches whether they be mild or severe after a head injury, more so if stress was a contributing factor after the injury had healed. She wasn't entirely convinced, however, she didn't exactly call feeling like your head might explode – and these headaches were milder than she had experienced previously - on practically a daily basis normal.

She sighed, pushing all thoughts of her headache way and soon they returned to Nick a they often did whenever she had nothing else to occupy her mind. Thinking of him was definitely preferable to stressing herself by trying to remember any more details about the riots. She was already haunted by the brief fragments that she could remember so she wasn't sure why she wanted to remember any more. She just assumed that it was because she hated not feeling in control and not being able to remember details about the incident that had changed her life, left her feeling quite helpless. It was a feeling she definitely didn't like and she'd found that the only way to cope was to push everything to the back of her mind. Or think of Nick. Thinking of Nick hurt, thoughts of him reminded her of what she'd lost but in all honesty, it didn't hurt half as much to think of him as those other vague memories did.

She knew that she thought of this a lot, in fact she was fairly positive that she kept coming back round to this way of thinking but she did wonder whether he was actually still in Holby or not. After all, a lot could have happened in three years. It was an awfully long time. People changed, people moved away, so many things could change in that space of time. If he was still there, what was he doing? She imagined that he was probably still at the hospital, still the clinical lead and he still had his office. Maybe things wouldn't have changed that much. She wondered whether he'd moved on from her or not – it hurt to think that he might have – but she didn't like thinking that he was hurting. Especially when she could have put a stop to his pain. She knew that if he had moved on, she wouldn't mind. It would hurt like hell for a while, she knew it would but she couldn't expect him to stay single forever especially when he had a distorted view of what had happened. She still wasn't sure who's idea it had been to tell Nick that or whether it had simply been a mistake, perhaps something had been lost in communication. They had been trying to protect her, she understood that but it didn't necessarily mean she liked the whole situation. Every step that had been taken, had been to protect her and although she knew that, she still couldn't help but dislike them intensely for what they'd done. They had effectively taken matters, her life, into their own hands and assumed to know what she needed. She had felt like a child, like she wasn't trusted to make her own decisions about her life.

If she was brutally honest with herself, she wasn't entirely sure what she was expecting to gain by going back. She hadn't been coping away from Holby so maybe they would be right, maybe going back there would force her to confront her demons. She secretly thought it was quite a brutal way of making someone face up to their fears but if it worked then it worked. If it did work, she couldn't fault them. She was tired of being the way she was, exhausted of not being like she used to be. She just wanted things to go back to normal and although she knew that normal probably didn't exist any more, she just wanted it all to stop. For the pain, emotional and physical, to just go away.

She still wasn't sure how she was expecting Nick to react. As far as she knew, there would be a few, select, people who would know by now what had really happened – they sort of had to know, seeing as she was on her way back – but whether anyone would have told Nick or mentioned it to him, she didn't know. If he didn't know then she was aware that it was going to come as a massive shock and she was fully expecting him to be unable to deal with the whole situation. In fact, she wouldn't even blame him if he didn't want her there. It was an unusual situation to be in..actually, scrap that, it was a rare situation to be in. How many people came back from the dead? She knew that technically, she hadn't actually been dead, but to those people who mattered to her, like Nick for example, then being told something had happened only to discover, years later that another thing had actually happened was going to be incredibly difficult to deal with. She just hoped that he would let her explain, well explain as fully as she could. Even she wasn't sure how much she actually knew about the whole, rather odd, situation. Nobody had exactly been very forthcoming when she'd bugged them for information and although she knew that they had wanted to protect her, she wished they hadn't. It might sound ungrateful but she was fed up of people trying to protect her.

The tinny, rather bored sounded announcement informing her that her train was approaching the platform broke into her rather confusing, incoherent thoughts a few moments later and she glanced up to see the train she needed to get on heading towards her. She exhaled deeply as she stood up, nerves swirling in her stomach. She walked over the platform, stopping a little way from the yellow line, waiting patiently as the train approached as she pushed everything to the back of her mind once again. There were some things that were better left until later. She could sort her thoughts out into a more coherent manner when she was back there but for now, she just wanted to keep her thoughts firmly in the present so she could concentrate on getting back to Holby.

She stepped on to the train a few seconds after the doors had opened, immediately going to sit in a window seat. No-one else was sitting in the little group of seats yet which was something she was immensely grateful for but she knew that as the journey wore on and it got later, the train would probably start to fill up pretty quickly. She placed her bag on the table, pulling out her phone and glancing at the photo she had set as her background. It was of her and Nick, it had been taken only a few days before the riots but it was the only thing she had to remind her of him. When she looked at it, it hurt but it did help when she could remember the good times, the times they'd been happy together.

Yvonne snapped her phone shut a few moments later as she felt tears beginning to well up in her eyes. Before all of this, tears would have been uncharacteristic but they seemed to fall all too often for her liking these days. She placed her phone back in her bag and leant back in her seat, closing her eyes. She just hoped that she wouldn't fall asleep – dozing was ok because her mind didn't try to relive the brief memories she had of the riots and she certainly didn't want to wake up in a state or very suddenly in a train full of people as she often woke now. That would be embarrassing.

An hour or so later, she opened her eyes, feeling disorientated for a moment or two. She sat still in her seat for a few moments to allow herself some time to remember what was going on. She glanced out of the window briefly to see scenery flashing past and it all came rushing back to her. Her eyes flicked up to the scrolling message board, nerves gripping her stomach as she was informed that there were only two more stops until Holby. She wasn't convinced she was doing the right thing, even less so now, but it was too late to turn back. She had to face it.

The last bit of the journey seemed to last forever but eventually, she shakily made her way off of the train, exhaling deeply as her eyes took in the sign on the platform. Holby City Train Station. She was back and now she felt like she wanted to run away as far as possible but she knew that she couldn't. She had to be strong now otherwise she wouldn't cope.

She walked through the station, handing her ticket to the guard who requested it. He nodded and handed it back to her and she scrunched it up, shoving it into her pocket. She had no idea why they gave it back to you once it was obvious you had completed your journey but it was something she didn't really care about, if she was honest. She was literally just clutching at simple, every day things to think about that would protect her, for the moment, from the thoughts that were threatening to take over, threatening to overwhelm her. She headed out of the station, coming to a stop outside. It was about 6pm and it was starting to get dark, the sun was just starting to go down.

Yvonne glanced to her left, knowing that if she started walking that way, it wouldn't be long before she ended up near the hospital. She should really be walking in the opposite direction but there was something about knowing the hospital wasn't far from her that tugged at her, made her want to go and have a look. Just to see what it was like now.

Swallowing, she attempted to push away the nerves that were causing that awful sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she began to walk down the street, clinging tightly to her bag. Doubts were circulating her mind, rushing round, making her wonder whether she was actually doing the right thing or not. She was even less sure now that she was here. Maybe the right thing would be to go before anyone knew she was back. She sighed deeply, knowing that whatever she did, she wouldn't be at peace with anything until she'd made some attempt to put things behind her. She continued walking, part of her hoping that she wouldn't see Nick, not yet at least.

She came to a halt, half an hour or so later, as the familiar grey building of the hospital came into sight. She glanced around the car park, biting her lip as she noticed Nick's car was sitting in his usual parking spot. He hadn't changed his car or his parking space in three years – perhaps things hadn't changed so much after all. Unable to help herself, she inched a little further forward until she was standing near enough to the E.D entrance to be able to see people coming and going but far enough away not to be noticed. Her eyes flicked around her surroundings, taking in every single little detail, rehearsing it and remembering it. The longer she stood there, just simply looking, the more it looked like nothing had changed. She wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, just that it would probably take her a while yet to figure that one out.

She wasn't sure how long she had been stood there for – it could have been a matter of minutes or it could have been longer - when she stiffened, her heart leaping in recognition as she saw a familiar figure leave the emergency department. His scarf was wrapped loosely and rather untidily around his neck and her fingers ached to reach out and sort it for him but she remained still and silent, just watching him. Why on earth he was wearing a scarf when it was fairly warm, she didn't know but she remembered that he'd had some confusing habits when they'd been together. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

Her thoughts turned to his appearance. He didn't look that different to how he had looked the last time she'd seen him. He had a few more grey hairs maybe, but who didn't? Generally, he hadn't changed and she felt strangely relieved. She listened as she heard the clatter of keys and he muttered something as she watched him stop, bending down to retrieve them.

As he straightened back up, he looked right at her and their eyes met for the first time in three years. She stood, completely frozen to the spot, her heart pounding in her chest as his eyes widened in recognition. "Yvonne?" His voice was gentle, like he was talking to a stray cat or something – why on earth she was thinking about stray animals at such a pivotal moment, she didn't know. They stood there for what seemed like forever, just staring at each other but it was when he took a step closer to her that the spell was broken and she panicked, knowing that things weren't the same any more. She was a ghost, that's all she ever could be to him now and she ran, berating herself inwardly for being so stupid. She heard him call her name again but she didn't stop, didn't give any sign that she'd heard him or even recognised him. She just felt an overwhelming urge to get out of the immediate area as fast as possible. It was too soon.

I meant to say, if Yvonne's thoughts seem at all incoherent/repetitive in this chapter, that's intentional. I have very limited medical knowledge by the way, I'm relying on Dr. Google for general info which is why some things may not be accurate. Please feel free to let me know if things are terribly inaccurate – I won't mind. I know this chapter has been an incredibly quick turnaround for me in terms of posting time but that's partly down to the fact I had this half written already. I am hoping that the next part will be up within the next few days but don't quote me on that! :) Hope you enjoyed it but even if you didn't, I would love to know what you thought.