Chapter Text
“Stevie, how quickly can you get here? It’s Dylan.”
She wouldn’t forget that phone call for as long as she lived. The rawness with which Charlie had spoken had moved her at once and sent her heart racing. She hadn’t even asked what had happened before she ended the call and scrabbled around to find her car keys with shaking hands.
Usually she drove with the radio on but it didn’t cross her mind to even switch it on. Later, she would look back and wonder how she made it to the hospital in one piece, driving with tears pouring down her cheeks. She had been an accident waiting to happen, but somehow she hadn’t run into any trouble and found herself parked inconveniently far from the ED. Far enough that when she got inside the hospital she sprinted down long corridors to reach the Emergency Department and finally get some answers.
“Where is he?” she said desperately, paying no attention to how she must look. Her breaths heaved after running and she prayed she wouldn’t embarrass herself with an ill-timed wheeze.
The ED seemed to come to a standstill. It infuriated her: they had seen enough loved ones driven to distraction with desperation, why was she any different? Why did they all stare - and what was with the sad eyes?
It was Jodie who finally spoke. “Resus, Stevie. He’s in resus.”
Stevie cast her eyes over to resus and frowned in confusion. She couldn’t see him in there, no sight of his tall form or distinctive mannerisms. She was about to argue with Jodie that he clearly wasn’t in there at all when the truth dawned on her, knocking every bit of breath out of her. She couldn’t see him because he wasn’t the doctor.
He was the patient.
For a moment, the world slowed down and her ears rang. The usual ED sounds faded into insignificance and it made sense that the team seemed somewhat rudderless on her arrival: their Clinical Lead was out of action. She pressed a hand over her mouth. The ED was what she knew, it was everything, but it became a lot more scary when the man she loved was a patient within it instead of at its helm. It wasn’t until she felt a hand on her shoulder that she came back to her senses.
“Charlie, what’s going on?” she said softly. “What’s happened to him?”
“Come with me,” he replied. “We can use Donna’s room: she’s working on him, with Max.”
Stevie allowed herself to be steered like a child across the department. She barely reacted when Jodie made a quick grab for her hand as she passed and gave it a comforting squeeze.
“Can I get you a cup of tea?” Charlie asked, the moment the door swung shut.
She shook her head, pacing the room. “I didn’t ask on the phone, I just dropped everything and ran –”
“Stevie, sit down, please.”
“I don’t want to sit down – if I sit down it’s all too real, I might as well be in the relatives’ room – I know what you’re trying to do, you’ve got that voice and you’ve offered me tea, and…” Her words sped up, coming faster and faster until it was blatantly obvious that although she may have cried all the way to the hospital, she hadn’t processed anything of the situation further than something being wrong.
Charlie put a hand on each of her shoulders and held her still, pressing gently on each shoulder. “Stop. Stop,” he said calmly. “You know why I’m asking you to sit down, I don’t need you passing out when I tell you what’s happened. It might – I think it’s going to come as a bit of a shock to you. It’s shocked all of us in here, and we’ve had half an hour to get a handle on it.”
She nodded, her lips pressed firmly together. At last, she took a seat, returning the hand that had covered her mouth outside in the department.
“Stevie, Dylan collapsed a little while ago, and it looks like an MI.”
Silence. Her ears rang again – her body responded to the news before her brain had caught up and understood what Charlie had said. Her stomach clenched and she fought the urge to be sick. “He’s… He’s only forty-eight, Charlie, he’s not – he can’t… he can’t have a heart attack, that’s not… He can’t.” She looked up at him with eyes full of tears, waiting for him to say that there might have been a mistake, that maybe that wasn’t the case after all. Silence.
Charlie sighed. “I’m really sorry, Stevie. It all happened so quickly. He came down from a meeting and didn’t look quite right, and…” He paused. “He didn’t make it back to his office.”
Stevie put her head in her hands, biting back tears. Then, decisively, she sat up. “You need to call his stepmother – Hazel needs to know.” She thought of Rihanna, who idolised her brother with every fibre of her being, and her throat ached.
“I’ll sort it out. I don’t know if they’ll let you into resus at the moment, but I will try and get you in there, even for a minute or two.”
She nodded resolutely. “I’ll wait here. I won’t be the relative hovering at the door.”
When Charlie returned, she was so absorbed in her thoughts that she jumped in surprise.
“You can’t have long – they want to get him into the cath lab as soon as possible. But Max said you can have a couple of minutes. Resus 4.”
Stevie winced. “He’d hate that,” she whispered. “I know he didn’t get the choice, and anywhere is better than nowhere at all…” Tears spilled down her cheeks again and she turned her back in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid.”
“It’s alright, Stevie. It’s not stupid at all, I know what you mean. Go and be with him.”
He didn’t look like himself – she wasn’t surprised in the least that he was unconscious but it wasn’t like seeing him asleep. He still looked uncomfortable and she wondered if he was in pain. He was breathing on his own, that was something.
She took his hand, careful of the cannula, and held it gently. “What happened?” she asked in a murmur. “We had plans for dinner, remember? You could have just said that you didn’t want to go, you didn’t have to do all this. I thought you were looking forward to getting out of here early for a change.” She looked him up and down, suddenly glad that he was unconscious because he’d be mortified at having been so exposed in front of colleagues. “I don’t know how many of them saw you go down,” she went on quietly. “I know Max and Donna were in here working on you, and —” Her breath caught in her throat as she spotted the defib pads on his chest. “No,” she said. “No, no, Dylan, no!”
At that moment, Max knocked before pushing his way back into the room. “Sorry Stevie, we have to go – ah.” He had not anticipated walking in to the sight of Stevie on her knees, still clutching Dylan’s hand and sobbing with tremendous force. He made his way behind her and put a hand under each of her arms to help her to her feet. His manner softened to one far more befitting of a man who’d had to perform CPR on a long-time friend. “We’re doing absolutely everything we can for him. He’s not quite out of danger yet, I wish I could tell you different.” He hugged the distraught woman briefly, hating that the situation was unfolding at all, much less to two people he knew so well.
“I made that tea,” Charlie said, coming into the empty resus bay. Empty except for Stevie, who leaned against the wall and stared into space with red eyes. "It's a lot to take in, isn't it?"
"Yeah, you could say that," Stevie said miserably. "This wasn't meant to happen, it shouldn't have happened, Charlie! I knew he was under a lot of pressure and getting stressed about it all, but I never thought it would end like this."
"No," Charlie said softly. "You're right. Look, I hate to ask you, but there's someone else needs calling, and I have to get back to work." He passed her a slip of paper with a phone number printed carefully on it with a name.
Stevie gasped on seeing it. "Zoe," she breathed. Dylan talked about her a lot, she was his best friend and she'd be horrified to hear what had happened. "I'll speak to her," Stevie said decisively. "Thanks, Charlie, for the tea and…" She tailed off, nodding indistinctly. "I will keep you updated on what happens next."
"Take care of yourself, Stevie."
Stevie turned her phone over in her hands. She’d decided against calling from Dylan’s phone, convinced that would only make things worse for the woman at the other end of the call. She had never met Zoe Hanna in person, only heard fondly recalled stories of her or mild irritations. She was a part-person in Stevie’s life: heard about enough to be memorable but never seen and not heard about enough to feel as though she was missing. One thing she was certain of however, was that Zoe meant the world to Dylan, and she suspected that the feeling was mutual. Breaking the hideous news she carried was going to be a horrible experience. She dialled the number, no thought given to the time difference. She suspected that once she knew why, Zoe wouldn’t care.
“Hello?”
“Hi, um, am I speaking to Zoe?”
“Yes, who’s this?” The accent was a surprise to Stevie. She should have known better – accent bias had caused her enough issues of her own to go doling it out on others.
Stevie stared out of the window she faced, not taking in a fraction of the Peace Garden below. “My name’s Stevie Nash, I’m… I’m Dylan’s girlfriend.”
“Oh! So you’re the one!”
She could have laughed were the circumstances not so grim. Zoe sounded almost amused too, making Stevie wonder exactly what had been told of her. It weighed heavily on her heart that she was likely about to ruin this woman’s day when she seemed so sunny and warm even in the briefest of exchanges. “Yeah, I’m the one. I don’t want to know how much he’s told you… Look, I’m really sorry but I need to tell you something. Are you – are you somewhere where you can talk?”
There followed the sound of footsteps and then a door closing. “Yes, go on? Has something happened?”
Stevie blinked back tears, swallowing down the ache in her throat. She tried to find the balance between giving bad news (something she had done so many times as a doctor) and sharing it gently. “I – yes, something’s happened. It’s – it’s Dylan, and…”
“Oh god, is he okay? I mean, you’re calling me and we’ve never spoken before this, but – Stevie, what is it?”
It was impossible. She couldn’t hold back the tears: it wasn’t fair, it was a horrible scenario to be trapped in, and someone who would want to be here was three and a half thousand miles away. She sniffed and scrubbed at her eyes with one hand. “I’m sorry, Zoe, this isn’t something I’d want to tell you over the phone. He’s had a suspected heart attack.”
Zoe took a sharp breath. “Oh bloody hell. When?”
“About an hour ago, I think. I wasn’t in the ED when it happened – he was though, thank God. They got to him so fast, but he’s still critical.”
“He’s too young for this, what the hell happened?”
Stevie shook her head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. He’s been a bit snowed under with Clinical Lead stuff lately, but I had no idea it had gotten this bad. I don’t know what to do, Zoe.” The last part slipped out – she’d never spoken to Zoe before and had no business being so vulnerable with her.
“Oh, my darling. All you can do is wait, it must be so awful. You – you said that you didn’t want to know the things he’s told me about you, but there’s something you need to hear while he can’t tell you and he’s not there to try and stop me embarrassing him. He loves you, so, so much, Stevie. Like he’s not loved anyone in a very long time. Every time he’s said anything about you it’s only been the highest praise, the sweetest compliments. You make him happy. I know that’s not going to make you feel any better while he’s so unwell, but I think you need to hear it.”
Stevie had stopped bothering to conceal the fact she was crying. She absorbed Zoe’s words and resolved to keep them close to her heart on the long wait ahead. “Thank you,” she whispered.
The waiting was hell. Consumed by anxiety, Stevie couldn’t sit still for more than a few minutes before pacing again. She gained a new appreciation for the relatives she’d so often poured scorn upon for their agitation. It was impossible to stay still: it felt like the inertia would eat her alive. She knew roughly how long angioplasty should take, but had no idea exactly when they’d started, nor how extensive was the damage they were trying to repair. Every small noise had her starting in surprise. She scrutinised every passing person for a hint of an expression that suggested they were bringing her bad news.
Though it only deepened her concern, she could not stop herself thinking of Dylan. The smile that he saved for precious few people, that felt like a lottery win if she could coax it out of him anywhere outside of their home. His skilful hands that saved lives daily, that were still so gentle whenever he reached for her. She thought of all the evenings she had spent with her head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat a soothing soundtrack. The same heartbeat that had ceased completely for some time that afternoon, a fact that made her double up in her own private agony.
She looked at her watch. Long past the time he should have been free of this place. He’d been so set on this evening’s dinner plans, withholding all the details from her except the date and that she should wear something pretty. And now… Now he was fighting for his life and she found herself contemplating the frightening prospect of living without him. She closed her eyes against the surging tide of tears and held back sobs with both hands over her mouth.
It was another hour before she was shown into a side room where he was still unconscious, but to her relief looked far more at rest than the last time she had seen him. She turned the chair beside the bed so that it faced him, then sat with her hands encasing his uncannulated one.
“I’m here,” she murmured. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but you must be in there somewhere. I’m here, Dylan.” A tear dropped down onto his hand and she swiped it away with her thumb. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Please don’t leave me, Dylan. You scared me for a while there.”
She didn’t know how long she sat there, watching his monitors and squeezing his hand, desperate for a response. The low light in the room made her feel sleepy but she wouldn’t let herself succumb to sleep. Her head pounded but she wouldn’t close her eyes even for a second.
The next thing she knew, a knock at the door revealed a very tired Max, who looked between Dylan and Stevie with deep concern in his eyes.
“You need to go home,” he said gently.
“So do you,” she rebuffed. She blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to looking across the room instead of just a foot or so in front of her. “What time is it?” Her watch battery had died, some time between the corridor and now.
Max suppressed a yawn. “About half past twelve, I think.”
Stevie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Why are you still here?! You were on a long day today, weren’t you? Are you not exhausted?”
“I’m still here for the same reason as you,” he replied, with a nod to Dylan’s unconscious form. “I wanted to be here if there was going to be any news.”
“You didn’t have to stay,” she said gratefully. “There’s not much news – they achieved their aims with the angioplasty and now it’s just a case of waiting.”
Max shook his head. He wouldn’t forget the day’s events, though his perception was very different to Stevie’s. It was etched on his memory: Dylan came down from a meeting looking pretty unwell but more than anything, confused, before collapsing part-way back to his office. They should all count themselves lucky he hadn’t made it past that door – how long might it have taken for someone to find him, grey-faced and unresponsive, if he had been inside his office?
“I needed to stay,” he murmured. “I needed to know.”
Stevie swallowed. “I saw the defib pads on him, in resus. Were they – did you have to use them?” She was afraid of the answer but she had to know.
“Twice,” Max said quietly. “I thought we’d lost him, Stevie. It was horrendous.”
She looked at Dylan and let out a long breath. “I don’t want to leave him,” she insisted. “I can’t. What if something happens?”
“Stevie – if something happens, I don’t think you want to be here to see it, in all honesty. There was one saving grace this afternoon, and it was that you didn’t see us working on him. I wouldn’t want that for you, and neither would he, I’m sure of that.” He put his hands on Stevie’s shoulders. “You won’t catch a moment’s sleep here. Go home.”