It had been a strange day, eerily quiet and then the traumas piled in and chaos ruled, yet apart from Abby's patient it had quietened right down again. There were patients waiting for beds, and those being monitored for a while, but no one had demanded Archie Morris' attention since he'd left the lounge after Moretti reintroduced Ray.
Ray was still in there, that he knew, and he kind of felt that he should go in there and speak to him, but he felt sort of uncomfortable about doing it. He knew what people thought of him, that he was a bit of a joke, someone to have a laugh at, but not to be taken too seriously; that wasn't who he wanted to be though. He wanted to be the cool doctor, the one that pushed the boundaries, the doctor that the nurses and patients fancied; he wanted to be the doctor Ray had been. He thought he was a pretty good doctor, maybe not the best, but pretty good all the same, he got on relatively well with everyone, he wasn't sure if that was just because they put up with him, he doubted he'd ever really know. The main thing he was lacking was the attitude, the laidback manner, the ability to flirt without being hit, to charm the nurses into doing what he needed. He'd thought they'd been friends; him the sidekick to the cool guy, and it had hurt somewhat when he'd found out that Ray had been in touch with Greg since he'd left, but not with him. He'd wondered if it was because Ray didn't value his friendship as much as Greg's, or if he'd thought that he'd crack lame, tactless jokes, not be able to deal with the seriousness of the situation, again he didn't know.
That was why he wasn't in there with him, that and he'd heard rumours that he wouldn't talk to Neela, that he couldn't understand. He'd seen her just the day before, spent a few hours with her and Hope, and he would have given a hell of a lot for her to throw an emesis bowl at his head, or to give him a withering look of despair and a sarcastic comment, but instead she'd just sat curled up in the corner of the couch and not said a word. How Ray could turn his back on her when she was like that he didn't know, and he was sure if he went in there now he'd blurt that out, which was why he was still out here.
So instead he'd found himself starting at a computer screen for the last 20 minutes or so, a screen that might as well have been blank for all he saw on it. The sound of a rig pulling into the ambulance bay was like music to his ears, he had to hope that it was something gritty, something messy, that he could really get his teeth into, something to pull his mind away from his 'friend' in the lounge. He was out of his seat and at the door before the rig pulled to a stop, adrenaline already pumping in his veins, and as the doors to the ambulance opened he realised that Sam had appeared at his side. He looked at her briefly as her eyes widened and a gasp escaped from her mouth, even as they both moved forward, instinct taking over, and then he followed her gaze to the back of the rig and at that moment he felt his body freeze. It was just for a second, that second when he saw Gates climb out, his face grey and ravaged by worry and pain, he'd aged 10 years at least in the time since he'd left, but it wasn't his face that caused Morris to freeze, it was the red on his hands, the red soaking into his clothes, the smear of red across his cheek, the red which his mind wasn't quite allowing him to equate with blood. He stepped forward as Gates pulled the stretcher out and he saw that Neela was lying on it, long dark eyelashes against her cheeks, looking somewhat darker due to the deathly hue of her skin, more red seeping through the blanket and bandages enveloping her.
He heard Sam take a deep inhale of breath before snapping into professional mode 'what are her vitals?'
It was Greg that answered, like Gates his clothes were covered in blood and his face was ashen, he reeled off the figures and then 'she's lost a lot of blood. We've had to shock her twice'
The haze in his mind cleared instantly, he grabbed one side of the stretcher, Gates the other, and they pushed the trolley into the hospital, their feet gaining speed as they rushed through the doors, the faces of the doctors and nurses blurring as the four of them made their way to the empty trauma room. There was one moment though where time stood still, as they pushed open the doors to Trauma 1 Abby stepped out of Trauma 2, and in that one moment he saw the colour drain from her face as she took in the situation.
It was the trauma rooms swinging shut that pulled Abby from her reverie. She pushed the doors to Trauma 1 back open and the sounds of a trauma waved over her. The thump of the patient being transferred from stretcher to gurney, the vitals being reeled off, the calls for IVs to be placed, the requests for more blood, the labs to be done and the reassuring steady pulsing of the heart monitor connected to the patient.
Except this time it wasn't a patient, this time it was Neela, her best friend, and even as she found herself being pulled into the trauma, carrying out tasks that were second nature to her, she couldn't stop thinking that she'd been here too many times before. So many friends, colleagues, hurt, she'd treated so many, and this one was her closest female friend, the person she was closest to except for Luka, and this was the third time she'd treated her in as many months. She couldn't help but think that it looked like, from Neela's point of view at least, that it was going to be third time lucky.
She'd seen this sight many times before, the blood, the open wounds and sometimes they managed to save the patient, often they couldn't. Neela's cuts were deep, accurate but she hadn't cut in the most effective way, but at this moment it made no difference, what made a difference would be the amount of blood she'd already lost, it would be up to the surgeons to sew her veins back together, and at least this way, there was a chance for them to do that.
She heard Greg bark orders at Sam for more blood; she felt the fear as Neela's pressure started to drop, and then she heard the steady dull whine that signalled heart failure. The tension in the room increased as the defibrillator was charged, as Gates carried out compressions on her chest to keep the blood flowing to her brain and organs, as she started to bag her.
From the look Greg and Gates exchanged this wasn't the first time she'd crashed. She hated herself for thinking it, but for a second she wondered if they should just let her go, their jobs were to save lives, to make people better, she couldn't believe that she was standing there wondering if that was the right thing to do, if it wouldn't be better just to let her go, it was obviously what she wanted, but no, that was wrong, they had to do everything to save her, this was Neela for God's sake. The girl who'd stood beside her at her wedding, who she'd laughed with and commiserated with, whom she'd shared happy days and hellish days with.
'Clear' they all moved back as Greg applied the paddles to her chest, holding their breath as the electricity discharged but the monitor continued to whine.
'Resuming compressions'
Gates returned to Neela's side, his hands on her chest, the pressure in his arms desperately trying to force the blood to keep flowing, sweat beading on his forehead from the exertion.
'Clear' again they stopped what they were doing, again her body jumped as the paddles were discharged and again there was no change.
She was squeezing the bag-valved mask to keep a steady flow of oxygen to Neela's body as her thoughts drifted to her daily phone call with Luka. He knew the whole sorry tale, he'd heard her cry tears of anguish and frustration, he'd tried to comfort her the best he could without being there to take her in his arms and give her a big bear hug. That was what she needed more than anything, to feel his arms wrap tight around her. She felt herself tremble momentarily at the idea of calling him in an hour or so to tell him that what she'd been so desperately hoping not to happen had happened, because her hope was fading fast now, and it seemed inevitable that she'd be making that call.
Then she remembered that Ray was in the lounge and just for a second she wondered what it would be like to be him hearing that news, what it would be like if it was Luka lying there instead of Neela. She couldn't think about that and retain the level of composure needed to remain the trauma room, even that briefest moment had made tears spring to her eyes. The last time she'd spoken to Ray, properly spoken, not those brief few words in the lounge, but their conversation on the phone, she'd heard in the few words she'd allowed him to say how much he still loved Neela, he hadn't needed to say it in words, it was in his tone, the hitch in his voice, the pauses, the silences, they all said it for him. How would he take it if that was what it came to?
He needed to be in here, he should be in here, she knew that, but she couldn't stop what she was doing, and neither could anyone else, it really would be goodbye if they did. She could only hope that Sam thought to get him when she came back from the blood bank.
Greg had found himself over the last few days preparing for what now seemed to be the inevitable, listing in his mind what he'd have to do, who he'd have to call, her parents, Ray. He still loved her, he'd admitted that, but he hadn't been sure if he could forgive her. Would he ever be able to forgive himself for not forgiving her, would he be able to deal with the guilt and loss better than she had? It was a phone call he dreaded making. He'd spoken to her parents many times over the last few months, they understood the severity of her depression, but they were too far away and to removed from their daughter's life to have any influence on her. There would be a funeral to plan, that was on his list as well, a list drawn up out of necessity, whilst hoping like hell he'd never see the day he would need it. His hope hadn't quite gone yet, but in all honesty, the chances of not needing that list by the time the day was done were running slim.
'Clear'
Once again he applied the paddles to the chest of the girl he'd been looking after for so many months, the girl he'd looked after so well that she was lying here on a gurney and they were fighting for her life; a life she'd already given up. He remembered the silent promise he'd made Michael at his funeral, that he would look after her no matter what, he'd broken that promise, he wasn't sure when exactly but he'd broken it, he hadn't kept her safe. Now he would give anything to have another shot, he'd do whatever it took to get her better, but every time he shocked her, and she didn't respond, the chances of that faded.
'Resuming compressions'
The room was silent apart from the medical instructions and requests, and the electrical sounds of the monitors, there was none of the usual talk or banter of a trauma, everyone seemed to be absorbed in their own thoughts to share them with the others.
They'd had to shock her twice in the ambulance, they'd got her back though, but that was the third time here and he found himself wondering how many times they would continue to try before he had to call it. The thought filled him with overwhelming dread; he wasn't ready to give up on her.
Morris had swapped places with Gates, his hands were now the ones trying to keep her blood flowing, trying to give him the best chance at saving her.
As the defibrillator charged again, he found himself questioning whether they were doing the right thing. She wanted this to be over, he'd seen her pain, her grief, her sorrow over the last few months and most especially over the last few days and he couldn't help but wonder if saving her was the right thing to do. And then he thought of standing beside her grave, burying her as they had done Michael, knowing that he'd let them both down, and he knew he wasn't ready to let her go yet.
'Clear'
He could feel the dampness of his clothes against his skin, the dampness where her blood had seeped through. He'd held her in his arms as he tried to quench the flow, he'd felt her frail body against his and couldn't help but remember how, a year and a half ago, he'd held the same body naked in his arms for the first time. It no longer felt the same, where once were curves, there were now angles, where once there had been softness there was only brittleness, she felt like she would snap with the gentlest of touches. He'd held her as both he and Greg had attempted to soak up the flow of blood with pristine white towels, trying desperately to keep her with them while waiting for the paramedics.
He'd been there when Meg died, when she'd decided that she'd had enough of life, he'd stood in this very room, trying to keep her heart beating, her blood flowing until it had become apparent that she wasn't coming back, and then he'd felt himself collapse, sliding down the side of the gurney, his head in his hands as the enormity of the situation hit him. Neela had been there with him that day, she'd been with him when he'd found Meg and right through until the end, and it felt so wrong that he was here with her like this again. He should have seen the signs earlier, he'd missed them with Meg, but he should have learnt from that, he should have gotten her help the instant he realised, he should have pressed them, forced them to see what was wrong, if he had they wouldn't be here now. He didn't want this to end the same way as it had with Meg. It couldn't end like Meg.
There was no doubt in his mind that they had to keep going, had to keep trying to bring her back. He couldn't lose her as well, couldn't bear to wake up in the morning to know she was gone. When they'd first got together, all it had been about was passion, a physical desire so strong it had to be acted upon. Something had changed in the months that followed though, as he'd spent more time with her, and somewhere along the line he'd found himself falling in love with her, he knew his manner hadn't always shown it, but he loved her all the same. She'd seen through all that, seen through the arrogance and cockiness which was all the others had seen, she'd let him talk about Iraq, talk about the friends he'd lost there, including Sarah's dad, and it had helped ease his pain. But it hadn't eased her pain, he thought it had at the time, thought that she'd come to terms with Michael's death, accepted that it wasn't her fault, he'd got that wrong though, it had taken her another year and a half to accept that.
He remembered asking her on a few occasions what was going on with her and Barnett, and she'd always said nothing, but now he knew it wasn't nothing, it was love. Love and pain, and hurt and guilt, but most of all love. The guy was a fool for treating her like this, but if he'd only come back and make her happy, he would walk away willingly. At this moment all he wanted was for her to be happy.
As Sam pushed open the doors her heart caught in her throat, the scene in front of her was the one that she'd been fervently praying she wouldn't have to witness.
'Clear'
She was frozen in the doorway, watching. She saw the emotionless expressions on all their faces and knew that they were just shields for the pain that was hidden behind them. She wondered how long she'd been down, how much longer they were going to keep going; there was a determination about Greg's face, he wasn't ready to give up yet, she could sense the same from Gates as well, they were going to keep going for as long as it took. At some point though someone was going to have to call it if there was no change, as much as they didn't want to, it was highly likely that they would have to let her go.
'Clear'
She liked Neela, they weren't as close as she was to Abby or Pratt, but they'd had a laugh, they'd got on well. She was reminded of a packet of photographs she'd found the night before, taken on her birthday a year ago. A random selection of images of them all out at Ike's; she'd found herself pausing at the ones of Neela, one of her with Abby, a couple of group shots, and one of her and Ray. What struck her was how vibrant, how alive she looked, a gloss to her curly hair, a bounce to her step that the camera had even managed to capture, and then there was the laughter and love that shone in her eyes as she gazed up at Ray. It was hard to equate that with the girl lying here.
Ray. He was here, should she get him? If this was it surely he'd want to say goodbye, she'd heard the rumours too, but she'd seen how he looked at Neela in that photograph, how he'd always looked at her, and there was a lot of love in that look, surely that couldn't have gone. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the persistent pulsing of the heart monitor.
'Sinus rhythm, thank god, lets get back to it, get that blood on board, where's surgery? Get them down here now, we need these veins stitched up, come on, we've not got much time'
The joint sigh of relief was audible in the room as they kicked back into action. It was Abby who paused as she picked up the phone 'Ray's here'
Pratt looked at her in surprise 'What?'
'He's in the lounge, he should be in here'
'Hell yeah, why did you say anything? She was asking for him earlier'
The immediate battle wasn't over, she was still loosing blood, still a long way from stable, but for now they were relieved that there was still a battle to be fought.
