Will Be Yours Ch. 18

Note: Sorry for this 'depressing shit', as someone commented on the last chapter. *giggles* Life is so depressingly shitty sometimes. This is just a slice of it. Tough times build character, remember? ;) Thank you and keep reading!

*****

There are moments in life when words are rendered impossible. Glimpsing Cynthia through the small window in the CCU was one such moment for Luke. Shock, horror, and disbelief turmoiled inside him even as he wondered if everything happening at the moment was true or just his imagination.

Cynthia. The woman he loved now lay in a small, glass cabin, covered in wounds. Several pipes, tubes, and other pieces of medical equipment were attached to various parts of her small, thin, pale body and connected to blinking machines and monitors. Luke didn't recognise most of the equipment, except the ventilator and the saline drip. Her face was barely visible through the window, but he could see the thick dressing on her arm and the bandage around her right hand. Broken pieces of glass had pierced her flesh in various parts, requiring surgical procedures to remove them. She had also lost a lot of blood from the gash on her arm.

By late evening, Carrie, Becky, and Leah had arrived. Carrie was still in a state of shock, and Becky was devastated. Leah was still holding on. The police had been there some time back, reconstructing the accident. Luke had distanced himself from the conversation, not willing to hear the details. Instead, he had remained seated on the bench outside the CCU, staring blankly at the ceiling and occasionally rising to have a glimpse at her.

She was barely distinguishable from the white sheets of the bed. From a distance, she looked like a cluster of pipes and tubes wrapped with bandages. Diana hadn't gone through all that. She'd been declared brought dead at the hospital. In so many ways, Luke now found it better and easier than having to see someone in that mutilated condition, struggling for life.

But she is alive.

There's time. There's hope.

But her critical condition worried Luke. Cynthia hadn't woken up nor shown any movement. And when Dr Baker, the trauma surgeon, took him and Scott to his room to discuss something, he feared the worst.

"Okay, so there are a few things you must know," he began, joining his palms on the table. Luke and Scott sat in the chairs facing him, waiting for him to continue.

"The fracture on her right fibula wasn't as bad as we'd thought it to be," he said, "We've repaired it with a minor surgery, and the cast will take care of the rest. As you can see, she has suffered very severe external injuries, and has also lost a lot of blood. But that isn't what we're worried about."

Luke frowned and exchanged a glance with Scott.

"Then what are you worried about?" Scott asked.

Dr Baker sighed. "She has suffered a traumatic brain injury." He turned his computer monitor towards them. A scanned image of Cynthia's brain was before their eyes. Dr Baker pointed to certain parts of the image.

"It's called a closed head injury," he added. "The bleeding has been internal, resulting in a clot under the bone."

He paused, gauging their expressions. Luke's hands were trembling under the table and he clasped them together.

"W-What must be done now?" he stuttered, his throat feeling dry.

"A neurosurgical procedure to remove the clot is the only option," the doctor explained. "Otherwise, the clot may displace the brain to the other side of the skull."

Luke felt the words jolting his body. He didn't know what a displaced brain was. And he didn't want to know either. He wanted Cynthia to be alright, and he'd go to any extent to make sure of that.

"So why are you still waiting?" Scott asked, "Why don't you perform the surgery?"

"We cannot." The doctor's reply surprised Luke. What did he mean they couldn't perform the surgery?

"This is a small hospital with a small team," he added. "Only an expert neurosurgeon can perform this life saving surgery, but we don't have such a surgeon among us."

"Is this a joke?" Luke left his chair, agitated beyond words. "A patient is battling for life, and you say you don't have the ability to save her? You're a doctor!"

"Luke." Scott rushed to him, trying to calm him down. "We can sit down and talk about it."

"Sit and talk?!" Luke screeched. "She'll be dead by then!"

"Luke!"

Scott grabbed his arms and shook him vigorously. Luke bowed his head, realising what he had just said.

"I'm sorry." He looked away and mumbled. Scott let go of his arms and looked at Dr Baker.

"Just give us a minute, please," he said to him. Dr Baker nodded sympathetically. Scott guided Luke out of the room, before giving him another shake.

"Think positive," he told him firmly. "Cynthia is going to be okay. Nothing will happen to her. Do you understand?"

Luke nodded, leaning against the wall to regain composure. The hospital was indeed small. It was a town, not a city. Not many expert surgeons were usually available at such places.

"We can shift her to Birmingham, can't we?" he asked Scott, dropping his head back.

"We can, but will she be able to make the journey?" Scott reasoned. Luke hadn't thought about that. In the distance, he could hear Becky crying, and Carrie trying to comfort her.

"It's all my fault," he heard her say. "I shouldn't have allowed her to go. She was in no position to drive."

Something snapped inside Luke and he walked over to Becky. She had always appeared to be a very strong, level-headed woman. He'd never imagined she could cry.

"Why wasn't she in a position to drive?" he sat beside her and asked. "What had happened?"

When Becky didn't reply, Luke felt the hair on his arms standing on their ends. Something must have happened at the shop. But what?

"Becky," he repeated. "Tell me, please."

"She was very upset," she said hesitantly. "Someone had come to see her, and she was absolutely shaken after meeting him."

"Him?" This time it was Scott. "Who was it?"

"She called him Sam," she said. Luke's eyes darted at Scott, who looked equally shocked. Cynthia's ex had come to meet her? What for? And what had he said that made her upset?

"Oh my god." Carrie looked more horrified than she already was. "What does he want?"

"I can't believe he came all the way here," Scott exclaimed. "He's such a—"

"There are more important things right now." Luke got to his feet and faced Scott. He had no desire to waste his thoughts or energy on unimportant things. Cynthia needed him. He had to take care of her, help her get back to life.

"What are we going to do about her surgery?" he asked, his face incredibly serious.

"This isn't a decision I can make alone," Scott announced.

"What surgery?" Carrie asked. With every word, she was turning more anxious, more afraid. Luke had always found Scott and Carrie very similar in the way they remained calm and collected during emergencies. She was a former Army wife, after all. This time, however, while Scott had managed to remain brave, Carrie had cracked. He didn't blame her, though. He himself was finding it extremely hard to keep himself together when every part of him was breaking loose.

Scott quickly told them what Dr Baker had just shared about Cynthia's condition. While Carrie and Leah looked concerned, Becky was plain angry.

"I'm responsible for all this." She muttered under her breath. "I hate myself as much as I hate that wretched ex of hers."

"Becky..." Leah shook her head, frustrated at being unable to get her to calm down. Then she walked over to the bench and sat beside her.

"You decide what you want more," she told her. "Spend your energy on being angry or being there for Cynthia. Does that bastard deserve your attention more than your friend?"

"Friend?" Becky sniffed back her tears, fishing out another tissue from her bag. "She's the closest thing to a sister I've ever had. And she is here, in this condition, because of that man." She dropped her head back against the wall. "And because of me. I'm responsible for this. I shouldn't have let her go."

"I'm the one who offered to go to the market, remember?" Leah reminded her. "You offered to drive her. But she didn't listen to us. You know how adamant she can be. Stop blaming yourself."

"Did you decide anything?" Dr Baker had come out of his room upon hearing all the crying and the heated discussions. He was a soft-spoken, bespectacled man, with a smiling face. One look at him, and Luke regretted his earlier outburst. He was trying to help. There was only so much he could do being a small town doctor.

"What kind of surgeries do you have here?" Luke asked, more in control of his emotions this time.

"This is a general hospital," he said. "We perform all kinds of surgeries, except serious cardiac and neurological cases. We have a small staff, so for complicated cases, we either bring in surgeons or ask family members to shift the patient to London or Birmingham for further treatment." He paused and looked at each of the people present there. "We give references and also make necessary arrangements if the patient is in a condition to be moved."

"Is Cynthia in a condition to be moved?" Luke asked.

The doctor's face turned grim for a brief instance. "No," he shook his head.

"Do you have the necessary equipment and infrastructure for the kind of surgery she needs?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Can her surgery be performed here if a neurosurgeon is brought in?"

"Yes."

Luke closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled sharply. There was hope. All he needed was strength. He loved Cynthia. Love would provide him with strength.

"By when should the surgery be performed?" he asked, staring at the clean, marble floor of the passageway.

"Within 48 hours." Dr Baker checked his watch. "She was brought in at two this afternoon. So—"

"If I bring in my own surgeon, will that be okay?" Luke broke in.

"Yes. We have the support staff."

Luke nodded, lifting his face to look at Scott. Then he looked at the doctor again.

"Could you please give me the details of her condition?" he asked him softly. "What is wrong exactly, what needs to be done... you know what I mean?"

The doctor nodded with a smile. "Sure, I'll get it done," he said. When he had gone, Scott came forward.

"What exactly do you intend to do?" he asked, visibly confused. "Where is a neurosurgeon going to come from?"

"I have someone." Luke dropped his head back, feeling unbearably tired but refusing to admit it. He needed to be strong. He needed to use his energy wisely so that Cynthia could come back to him, where she belonged.

"You do?" Scott raised both eyebrows. "Who?"

Luke leaned against the wall and closed his eyes again. "I know the perfect person."

"Listen to me," Carrie spoke up from a corner of the passageway. "Go home. You have been here for a long time."

"I don't want to go." Luke really didn't. He couldn't be at peace anywhere else when he knew Cynthia was struggling for life in a glass cabin here.

"We are here." She came forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "You and Scott go home and freshen up. Come back later."

"Allen is going to be here in a while," Becky said. "And we'll let you know if anything is needed."

"I think they are right." Scott nodded, checking the time. "It's late and I need to pick up the boys. Come on, Luke. Let's go together."

"I don't want to go," he repeated.

"Luke." Scott put a compassionate hand on his arm. "We'll freshen up and come back. We'll relieve the girls and stay the night here. Just a couple of hours, come on."

Although unwilling, Luke finally relented, aware that he needed a shower and a few moments alone. Luke remained silent through the journey in Scott's car, looking away from Jake and Josh, afraid of being asked anything about Cynthia. He later realised that they didn't know anything. Scott would probably tell them once they got home. He wondered how they would react. They were close to Cynthia. Would they be sad? Would they be afraid? Would they cry? Would they understand at all what was happening? Or would they manage to remain hopeful and strong even when things looked bleak?

When the thing was, he needed strength more than anybody else. And the realisation hit him anew when he entered Cynthia's house, feeling like a different man. Standing at the door, he turned on a dim light. As the living room came into view, Luke felt the lump in his throat. The scented candles wouldn't be lit. The roast wouldn't be made. The night he had planned for them wouldn't come true.

Don't give up, a little voice whispered inside him. It sounded like Diana.

"I won't." he murmured, his vocal chords barely functioning. But he knew he wasn't a strong man. He did give up easily. Had that not been the case, he would've never thought of ending his life all those years ago. He wouldn't have retreated from the world. He wouldn't have closed himself to love for so long.

But this time, he would be strong. He had to. He had lost Diana. He couldn't afford to go through the same thing again.

And there was one man who could help him.

He sank into the sofa and fished out his phone from his pocket. Scrolling through the contact list, he came upon the number he was looking for. It was late, but doctors stayed awake for a long time. His presumption turned out correct when the call connected after two rings.

"Luke! What a surprise! How are you, sonny boy?"

Luke squeezed his eyes shut and bit his quivering lip. Dave was a fun man despite being a surgeon. That was one of the most important reasons why he got along so well with his parents. But Luke was having a hard time keeping his emotions in check.

"Luke?" The husky voice came again. "Can you hear me?"

"I need your help." Luke bit his knuckles to rein in the sob rising up his throat. He had never begged for anything, to anybody. But for Cynthia, he would do everything.

"What help?" he asked, his voice heavy with concern. "What has happened?"

"I need you to come to Velmont Town," he said. "In the shortest possible time."

Luke didn't bother asking about his schedule or his other commitments. Dave was family. Had things been perfect, he'd be his father in law. Diana and he may have not married, but that didn't make Dave any less of a father to him. There were no formalities involved when speaking to your dad.

"Velmont Town?" surprise had joined the concern in Dave's voice now. "The hill station?"

"Yes."

"But why?"

"There's an emergency," his voice broke as he tried to form a sentence. He bit his knuckle again, to keep the tears at bay.

"But what are you doing there?" Dave asked. Luke shook his head, not finding enough strength to explain the whole thing.

"Luke?" he repeated, his voice gentle. "Tell me what's wrong. Are you alright?"

"No." He took his finger out of mouth and covered his face with his hand. "Only you can help me."

He breathed in, gathering his thoughts. "I was visiting a friend here," he said. "And that friend met with an accident this afternoon."

The image of Cynthia lying in the CCU came back to his mind, and he instantly opened his eyes in order to fend off the disturbing memory.

"The hospital doesn't have the kind of surgeon required for the live-saving brain surgery," he added. "And it has to be done in less than forty-eight hours."

"Is there a haemorrhage?" Dave inquired.

"Yes, but internal. And that's resulted in a major clot below the skull. They called it a..."

Luke tried to remember the term Dr Baker had used to describe the clot, but could not.

"Hematoma?" Dave filled in. Luke sank back in the sofa, knowing he was in good company.

"Yes." Luke rested his head against the back of the sofa. "Please help me, Dave."

He heard Dave sigh. It wasn't a good sign, since he could already feel the hesitation. Dave was his only hope. Without his help, Cynthia wouldn't live.

"Luke," Dave spoke slowly. "I haven't performed a major surgery in many years."

He was aware of that. Since Diana's death, Dave had gone more into teaching and writing, and drastically moved away from practising medicine. But that didn't diminish the fact that he was one of the most prominent neurosurgeons in the country. He had saved countless lives through the years, and proved his skill and precision every time. Cynthia needed a miracle, and Dave was the only person to deliver it.

"Please don't turn me down," the tears made their way down his cheeks. "She is critical. If she doesn't have the surgery done-"

"She?"

"Yes. Cynthia."

A few seconds passed in an awkward silence. Luke hadn't realised that the name would strike a chord with Dave, but it did. Luke knew he was affected, because when he spoke, his tone wasn't hesitant anymore.

"Cynthia?" he asked, his voice slightly shaky.

"Cynthia Adamson." Luke wiped his tears off and sat straight. "She is severely wounded, unconscious, and unable to breathe on her own. She needs help immediately."

Fresh tears sprouted in his eyes as he leaned forward in the sofa, resting his elbows on his legs. "I couldn't do anything to help Diana," the words came out brokenly. "I just want to make sure Cynthia finds help so that she doesn't suffer the same fate as Di."

Dave remained lost in contemplation for a little while, and Luke prayed he'd agree. Dave was a kind man, not someone who turned down patients. Yes, he hadn't performed a major surgery in a long time, but he was pretty sure he'd handled a lot of cases like Cynthia's.

"Which hospital is this?" he finally asked, making relief wash over Luke.

"Velmont Town General Hospital. Have you been here before?"

"No, although I have treated patients referred to Birmingham from the hospital."

He paused, pushing back the worry in Luke. But his next words made him certain that he'd agree.

"Do you have the details of the case with you?" he asked, "I just need a brief summary of what is wrong."

"I do." He searched his pockets and found the paper where Dr Baker had written down the details. Luke read the contents of the paper to Dave, who listened intently, as if taking notes. When he finished reading, Dave remained silent for some time again.

"This is on me," Luke said, breathing hard. "I'm going to pay for all kinds of treatment she that she needs. But I want her to be alright. That's all that I ask in return."

"I cannot say anything until I see the patient," the doctor in Dave took over. "How long it takes to get there from Birmingham?"

"About five hours by road, if traffic is light. It takes about an hour by air."

"Great. I'll be there early tomorrow. Meanwhile, do you think you can make me speak to the team at the hospital?"

Luke couldn't believe his ears. Dr Dave Nesbrit had just agreed to come over to Velmont Town and operate on Cynthia. He looked at the ceiling and exhaled deeply, not sure if he had actually managed to pull off the feat.

"I'm returning to the hospital in a while," he finally said. "I can make you talk to them."

"Do you have their number? I can call them."

Luke's eyes widened. "You'd do that?"

"Why not?" Dave smiled. "You sound really tired. Give me the number. I'll talk to them."

Luke opened the folded paper again, and rattled off the number on the letterhead, along with the address.

"I'll come to receive you tomorrow," Luke said.

"That isn't necessary. I'll meet you at the hospital. I'm talking to her doctor and making arrangements."

Luke pursed his lips, the tears threatening again. "I cannot thank you enough," he murmured, his voice trembling.

"You don't have to," Dave laughed. "Just because we have different surnames doesn't mean you're not a son to me." He sighed deeply. "Diana maybe gone, but our relationship is forever. I don't know the patient, but I'll do it because you love her."