AN: Took me an age to go through with this one given I've originally wrote another Chapter 33 with a different content, but at the end I thought this one fit the general scheme better so here it is. Hope it's alright!
By the way - I've seen some reviews and I love that you are all - collectively - wanting to bash Robin in the head with a hockey stick. That was the effect I was aiming for, I think. Thanks!
Robin Scherbatsky had been sitting on the couch alone – but not having felt lonely at all – for the past forty-five minutes or so, without moving a muscle, eyes fixated on the television as she soaked up the long-running British science fiction that seemed to be so popular amongst her co-workers and local friends.
She sighed and stretched lazily, letting out a yawn as she put down her empty mug of what used to contain hot cocoa on the coffee table.
She could see why her friends – and heck, the entire country even – loved the show so much. It was scary at some parts, but growing up being taught to face her fears by her almost controlling father, she only viewed the creeps as part of the excitement.
As she glanced at her clock, she realised it was only 10 in the evening, and she wondered how Luke was doing at the party.
Although, she had to admit, as sociable as she had been told she was, she never felt as though parties were much of an interest to her.
Sure, she might feel eager and excited to be all dolled up and going somewhere, and she might even make a handful of new friends while she was at it, but after a while, she would wish she was at home watching telly or checking out the latest issue of Guns and Ammo with a mug of hot cocoa, snuggled up on the couch, alone or not.
She was just wired that way. She liked people, but she did not need to be with them all the time. She much preferred quiet nights with herself or a few close friends.
She tidied up the couch, put her empty mug in the sink and turned off the television as she made her way to the bathroom for a hot shower to give an early end to the quiet yet somewhat comforting night alone.
As soon as she had stepped into the shower and had her hair lathered up, she heard her phone ring from her bedroom.
Oh, damn it. Perfect timing. Who could that be anyway, at this time of the night?
Heaving a sigh, she decided to let it ring until the noise faded out in the distance.
It was not like she could have answered it either; she had a head of bubbly shampoo and the water was at just the right temperature then. She would have had to let that one go anyway.
Deciding to deal with the matter later, she washed off the bubbles in her hair and came to a conclusion that it had just been her carrier ringing her for mobile plan promotions again.
Fifteen minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom and the first thing she did was check her phone for the call she had missed just moments ago, and realised the call was from an unknown number.
Huh?
Heart racing, she called the number back, unsure of where it may lead her.
The first voice that came through was that of a male's.
"Hello, Charing Cross. How may I help you?"
He sounded pleasant. Calm and composed, she thought.
Which means everything is fine and just as they should be.
"Um… Hi. This is… What?" She asked, her brow furrowing.
"Charing Cross," the voice replied in a sleek and professional tone.
"Charring what?" she wondered aloud.
Charing Cross? What the hell is that?
"Miss… You called us. Um, we're Charing Cross hospital. Is there anything wrong? If there isn't, we'll have to hang up on you. Our hotlines are extremely busy and there are people in need of contact right now."
Hospital? Oh, no. Oh, no, no and no.
"I'm sorry. Actually, um… You know what, I'll just…Where are you located?" She spoke with a little bit more certainty now, though her head felt faint. She hated the feeling of not knowing what was going on.
"Hammersmith, miss." He replied, his voice lingering on the other end of the line, confused.
"All right. Um, thanks." She muttered and hung up.
Throwing on her clothes, she grabbed her bag and ran out of the door, as fast as she could, without even knowing what had gone wrong in the first place, just knowing that whatever had gone wrong, it had to be associated with the last person she'd want to see hurt –
Luke.