A/N: Hey look an update! I actually think this chapter is the best thing I've ever written ever! Leave a review so I know if you think the same or not hehe;) ~LittleBooLost/Ciara xx
Connie was trapped. Imaginary walls were closing in on her, stealing her breath and forcing her to cower in the corner. She shook with terror as the sickening sound of tyres screeching roared in her ears, accompanied by a cacophony of screams.
And then her eyes flew open. Gasping and sobbing, she grasped at the sheets, her hands curling into fists around them as she willed away the dream. It didn't work. Her body remained covered in a light layer of sweat and Connie panted, trying to find the breath that had so forcefully been stolen from her lungs. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks and she started to choke; the deathly cold hands of anxiety closing around her throat and heart.
Connie had heard about anxiety and panic attacks before, but she'd never imagined they could be this awful. The last few nights had proved her wrong. For the last few nights she had been waking in the early hours. Sometimes screaming. Sometimes crying. Sometimes both.
Rita didn't know about the nightmares yet. She'd been drafted in for countless night shifts due to a lack of staffing after the accident, so she and Connie hadn't spent a single night together for about a week. Ash was out of work with his punctured leg, and Ethan with his collapsed lung. Lily'd had a few panic attacks at work, and was taking a break for counselling.
On her first shift back it had taken barely twenty minutes for Connie to realise that with her badly broken right arm she had been rendered practically useless; unable to treat patients or write. Zoë had noticed, and quietly convinced Connie take some of the leave she was owed.
Shakily, Connie propped herself up on her elbows and reached over to her bedside cabinet, grabbing her charging phone. She leaned back against the pillows and began to scroll through her contacts – Audrey, Jacob, Lisa… until she found the name she was looking for. Rita.
Her finger hovered over the green button.
/
'Connie?' Rita answered the call, slurping the last of her hot chocolate. She had just completed her shift and was now seeking refuge in the staff showers, taking a few moments to relax before she got changed out of her scrubs and went home. 'You okay?'
'No…I- I had a nightmare.' Connie whispered. 'Can you come over? I know it sounds stupid but-'
'It's not stupid at all, babe. You're in luck, my shift has just ended. Let me get changed and I'll call you back when I'm on my way, okay?'
'Okay…'
'Good.' Rita smiled, placing her now empty mug on the windowsill. 'Make yourself a hot drink and I'll be there in about twenty minutes.'
/
'What was your nightmare about, then?' Rita whispered, cuddling up against Connie's back. She slid an arm across her stomach and held her close, spooning her from behind.
Connie sighed and shrugged as Rita gently kissed her shoulder. 'The crash. I know it's stupid and that I should've gotten over it by now because I wasn't hurt that badly.'
'You don't need to be ashamed!' Rita implored, squeezing Connie's waist gently. 'It was a traumatic experience for everyone. And anyway-' she sat up, grabbing Connie's broken arm and running her fingers along the cast. 'You call this "not badly hurt?"
Connie moved to lie on her back, gazing up at Rita through the dim light. The nurse's features were barely discernible, but Connie knew that eyebrows were raised and her lips were pursed.
God, those lips.
She drove herself upwards in one fluid movement, and pressed her lips against Rita's. Her lips were still soft, despite the bitter November air that she had been exposed to. Connie nibbled on Rita's lower lip and deepened the kiss – only for Rita to pull away.
'Are you sure you want this?'
'God, Rita!' Connie growled, tackling the nurse into the mattress. 'I've not seen you for a week. How could I not want this?' She straddled her, and gyrated her hips. Rita gasped at the contact.
'Y- you're right!' She moaned, her hands grabbing the hem of Connie's pyjama top and pushing it up. Connie lifted her arms, allowing Rita to rip the top over her head. It was thrown to the floor, and quickly followed by the rest of their clothes.
/
Connie was woken by the sensation of Rita stroking the length of her bare forearm. She hummed and smiled, before opening her eyes to look up at the blonde who was sitting up against the headboard. 'That tickles.'
Rita rolled her eyes. 'I am just trying to massage your arm here, woman. Stop complaining.' But she started to use more pressure to work out the knots all the same. 'That better?'
Connie smiled sleepily, her eyelids drooping slightly. 'Mmm…Much better.'
'You know,' Rita murmured, her thumbs massaging the crook of Connie's elbow, 'you were pretty incredible last night considering you only had the use of one arm.'
'Darling, please. I am always "pretty incredible" regardless of how incapacitated I may be.'
'Don't think Zoe Hanna would agree.' Rita retorted, and Connie's eyes flew open.
'WHAT?! I've never slept with Zoe! Where on earth did you get that idea from?!' The doctor yelped, pulling her arm out of Rita's hands.
Rita stared at Connie incredulously for a second before beginning to cry with laughter. 'I didn't say that!'
'You certainly implied it!'
'Well, I didn't mean to. I was actually talking about last Wednesday when Zoe discovered that your cast was stopping you from being able to write, let alone treat people!'
'Oh.' Connie's cheeks flushed pink and she dipped her head to try and hide it.
'Aww.' Rita grinned. 'Are you embarrassed?' She teased, placing the pad of one finger under Connie's chin and tilting it up. 'Yes, you are! You're blushing! Whoever would have thought it? Big, bad, Mrs Beauchamp blushing!'
'I'm not-' Connie tried to argue, but it was too late. Rita had noticed and she was not about to let it drop any time soon.
'Your ears are going pink. This is way too cute-' Rita was stopped mid-tirade when Connie's phone started to ring. The brunette dived across the bed away from her and snatched her mobile up, heart sinking when she saw the name on the screen.
'What's wrong?' Rita asked, noticing the dismayed expression on Connie's face. 'Who is it?'
'It's St Lucia's. Grace's school. Again.'
'Just answer it while I make breakfast, and you can tell me what they said while we're eating, okay? It can't be anything too bad.' Rita suggested. She leaned forwards, and brushed her lips against Connie's in a half-hearted goodbye.
/
By the time Connie had finally finished on the phone, the house was beginning to smell like slightly overcooked blueberry pancakes. She knew Rita was waiting downstairs – probably anxiously – for her arrival, but Connie couldn't bring herself to move from the comfort of her bed.
Instead, she stayed sat among the covers, and wept.
She wept for Grace, who had been labelled as 'troubled' and expelled from school at just nine years old.
Perhaps she should have seen it coming. After all, four years of bad school reports and more detentions in one term than Connie herself had received in all of her school years was enough to plant a seed of doubt.
Yes, Connie should have definitely seen this coming.
She heaved herself off her bed with all the enthusiasm of a condemned woman, and trod slowly down the stairs.
In the kitchen, Rita was slaving away over the hob in just her vest and underwear. Her hair was a sticky-up mess. Her narrow shoulders did not bear the heavy weight of the world. She looked young and beautiful.
Connie leaned against the doorway with her arms folded and watched as Rita attempted to prise a slightly burnt pancake from the frying pan. She was almost afraid to say what the headmistress of St Lucia had said to her.
So she didn't. (She would, just not yet.) There was something more important that Rita had to hear first.
'I love you.'