A/N: Hello again, once again I'm struggling with shattered pieces and any/all spare time has been taken up with placement, work and just when I got over the cold, some nice soul at placement decided to pass on a pretty bad stomach bug. OFT! I wouldn't wish that on anyone.
Anyways, this fic is a fill in the gaps and do something productive to prevent writer's block and still have no idea where I'm going with this particular fic. As usual, ignore any and all spelling mistakes and grammar errors. I own nothing, everything is 'borrowed' from the fabulous Jill Murphy (just like all my other fics ;) ) and well, enjoy.
Chapter Four: The News
Amelia sat in a plastic chair in the corridor. Her hands clasped and twiddled her thumbs, patiently waiting for a member of the medical staff to at least inform her of the latest development regarding Constance. Even though, she was anxious about being ushered out of the room, she was confident that the medical team would do everything in their power to stabilize the patient or perhaps the monitors that alarmed, had alerted the staff that she was ready to awaken from the months slumber and once again rejoin the waking world.
The polar opposite Hecketty, paced in the small corridor, impatiently waiting for any new information and occasionally, she stole a glance at Amelia and shook her head while continuing to pace. Amelia was still clutching to her misplaced optimism. Why was she doing this? Merely prolonging the inevitable and suffering, Hecketty was more than confident that Constance would not want this. She may have been labelled as many things those whispering rumours echoed throughout the college that she was once in charge off and as former students graduated but still the infamous stories grew, continuing a legacy of a superior witch who practically never showed signs of emotions or empathy and projected a cold, hardened maiden image.
"Will you at least sit down...your constant fidgeting is annoying." Complained Amelia now folding her arms
Hecketty rolled her eyes but did as she was asked, "Fine!" She snipped and took a seat, leaving an empty plastic chair between herself and Amelia
An awkward silence filled the empty hospital corridor, occasionally a member of staff passed the two witches or a domestic carrying out her cleaning duties passed them. Strangely, no-one smiled or spoke.
After what felt like a lifetime, members of the medical team exited the small room, each conversing with each other, their medical terminology confusing both Amelia and Hecketty, but there were a few words were recognizable as the medical team left.
'Blood transfusion.', 'DNAR form.', 'Next of kin should be informed.', 'Organ donation?'
Amelia's eyes widened, surely the medical team had not given up hope? Hecketty secretly caught a flying glance at Amelia and witnessed a light diminish within her eyes. Maintaining a strict air of caution, she kept her focus on the wall in front of her but secretly felt the pain that Amelia was experiencing. A shared pain.
"Excuse me," interrupted a voice, "I'm looking for Amelia Cackle." Glancing between the two witches
"That's me." She replied softly, pushing herself up from the chair
The consultant in charge of Constance' care, offered a small smile out of politeness and not of hope, "I understand that you are the next of kin...I would like to talk to you regarding Constance Hardbroom."
Amelia swallowed a fast forming lump, she did not like where this conversation was about to take her. As she walked with the consultant, she sneaked a glance at Hecketty, who seemed unfazed. Although, she knew what the conversation between Amelia and the consultant was regarding and had already prepared her self and severing all emotional ties regarding the final outcome.
"You were right, Hecketty." she whispered, fighting back the tears
Hecketty swallowed back her pride and wanted to say or do something to help relieve Amelia of her emotional conflict and torment. It sole decision now rested on her slumped shoulders.
"Everyone has given up hope...given up on Constance...I can't!"
"Amelia...we didn't give up on Constance...she gave up the fight...she gave up on us."
Her aging hands cupped her face, she slowly began to crumble and buckle under the pressure. Showing emotion and weakness in front of the feared Hecketty Broomhead but right now she did not care and be damned of what she thought, "I don't know what to do."
"Do what is right for Constance..."