Dead End Job

Explanations? Not Quite.

Frank looked up as Ray was shown into the small makeshift waiting room. He hadn't purposely done it for sympathy, but his expression was pitiful. Getting to his feet, he seemed to almost shrink under Ray's sympathetic gaze.

"Frankie!" Ray gasped as he saw the pain in his friend's eyes. Pulling him into a hug, both friends stood in silence offering mutual support.

"Are you okay?" Ray asked, feeling immediately at a loss; the expression on Frank's face alone told him how far from okay he was.

Somehow, the words didn't fall as flat as he had expected they would and on hearing those three simple words, all of Frank's pent up fear and guilt bubbled to the surface. Only now did he fully comprehend what he felt, which was the awful truth that he had escaped serious injury, while his two companions had suffered much more severely and Gerard was fighting for his life. Tears welled in his eyes as he gazed up at Ray, still unable to form any words.

"Hey!" Ray began comfortingly. "This is not your fault! The doctor told us. A drunken driver turned too quickly and mounted the sidewalk. There was nothing you could have done."

"B...but, Gee, he's...and I'm..." Frank stammered, unable to complete the sentence he had tried to start.

There was nothing more to do than comfort the distraught young man. He was in shock and deeply traumatised. Ray tried not to dwell on the thought, but it was possible that Frank had potentially witnessed their friend being killed; knocked down in his prime by a drunk behind the wheel of a car. If Gerard didn't survive, it seemed likely that Frank would struggle to get over the shock. The two men were at a loss to know what course of action was best. They all knew that Frank was not one to hide his feelings and very much wore his heart on his sleeve but this version of Frank - the exhausted, confused, almost incoherent man who stood in front of him was completely new to him and Ray's heart ached for him as he stared down at him. One thing he knew was that Frank needed to rest and almost certainly treatment for shock but to obtain that he would have to speak to the doctor which potentially meant leaving Frank on his own again.

"What's the doctor's name?" Ray asked trying to keep his voice low and soothing.

"His name's Harman," Frank whispered, after a few moments of searching his memory.

"Did he say when we could see them or when he'd be back?" Ray asked.

Frank took one or two deep breaths as he tried to release his throat from the crushing and agonising hold of his tightening muscles. The pain he felt from trying to swallow the lump in his throat had long since weakened and exhausted him.

"He... he must have," Frank struggled to think and raising panicked eyes to his friend. "Oh, God, Ray, this is important and I can't remember. I can't remember!"

Lowering his head, Frank's shoulders sagged and he wept, quietly at first, but as soon as Ray pulled him close and cradled him in a reassuring and comforting embrace, Frank crumbled. The shock of the accident and the sight of his two friends so badly hurt had taken its toll on him. Ray frowned with anger as he thought about how the doctor had allowed this without considering the very real shock and trauma that Frank had suffered. He fervently hoped that the doctor would return soon so that Frank could receive the treatment he so desperately needed. If not, he would ask the security guard outside the door to have him paged. Ray was, by nature, an optimistic, kind and generally happy and fun person, but nobody messed with his friends. To his eyes, Doctor Harman had done just that. Leaving Frank alone in a makeshift waiting room without treatment for the trauma and shock he had suffered was inexcusable and when he arrived he would point that very thing out to him in no uncertain terms.