Carver

Chapter Five- Shattered Walls

Luke charged into the emergency department. His eyes scanned the area. The waiting room was buzzing with activity. Children cried and laughed. A man was sitting with a towel pressed to his hand, blood soaking through the checkered material. A teenage girl had her leg propped up on her mother’s lap, her foot alarming shades of purple and blue. Luke was in a daze. The sounds, colors and lights blurred into one. He darted for the reception desk just ahead of him. The older woman seated behind the desk had a phone balanced between her shoulder and her ear as she typed. Luke leaned heavily against the desk with his sweaty palms against the wood as he desperately tried to catch his breath. The receptionist held up her index finger to indicate that she would be with him in one minute. Luke loosened his tie a little more. The receptionist set the phone down and turned to him, weary blue eyes looking back at him.
“How can I help you today, sir?” Luke fished his badge out of his trouser pocket and held it up to her.
“Special Agent Luke Morrison. I’m here regarding Sarah Carver.” The receptionist raised an eyebrow as she glanced him up and down. Luke pursed his lips in frustration.
“Are you family?”
“No, she’s my boss and friend,” Luke considered his words for a moment, unsure of how best to approach the topic, “She doesn’t have any family. Her fiancé died six months ago. I got a call from a Dr Holywell to say she had a seizure. Listen to me, I’m the only one she has right now.” The receptionist nodded and typed on her keyboard, perfectly manicured nails tapping on the keys. Luke’s hair clung to his forehead and neck with sweat.
"She's in room 124, just around the corner." Luke gave a small nod of thanks as he jogged along the corridor. His eyes bounced from door to door, searching desperately for room 124. He stopped in the center of the corridor, breath caught in his throat. It was a sensory overload with the beeping, hissing, crying and moaning, and the flurries of people dashing back and forth. Luke had apparently ran past the room he was looking for when he realized he was outside of room 125. Luke turned and slowly made his way back to the previous room. He stopped directly outside of the door and took a moment to compose himself. Curling his slender fingers around the steel door handle, he pushed the door open. Luke’s heart dropped at the sight of Sarah in the hospital bed, her eyes open in small slits, her lips parted slightly. Her red hair spread around her head like a halo on the pillow. He quietly edged into the room and closed the door behind him. Sarah barely acknowledged his presence. Luke slumped into the chair beside her bed and took her right hand into both of his. Her skin was icy to the touch.
“Hi, Sarah. It’s me, Luke. Jesus, what the hell happened?” Sarah’s eyes moved back and forth, trying to place the voice she could hear. Her glazed eyes fell upon Luke. His hair was wild from running and his cheeks were crimson.
"Luke?" came Sarah’s voice. Her usually strong and authoritative voice sounded small and frail. Luke rubbed soothing circles into the back of Sarah’s hand.
“Hey. Yeah, it’s me. How are you feeling?” Sarah swallowed thickly.
“I don’t remember. I was talking to the doctor and then it all goes blank.”
“Dr Holywell tells me that you had a seizure. You were fitting for seven minutes.” Sarah furrowed her brow, sweat beading her skin.
“I did? I don’t remember. Where am I?”
“Brookdale University Hospital. Has anyone been to see you yet? Any idea what caused it?” Sarah closed her eyes and slowly shook her head.
“How’s the case going?” asked Sarah, forcing her eyes open again to look at Luke. Luke’s mouth bobbed, unsure of what to think or how to respond.
“You’re seriously asking about the case?”
“Am I speaking a foreign language?” snapped Sarah. Luke gave a small sigh. Her personality was clearly still intact.
“Nothing new. No new bodies.” Something clicked and Sarah sat up in the bed, the blankets falling to her waist. She began to pluck off the electrodes from her chest, sending the ECG machine into a high pitched frenzy. Luke tried to grab at her hands to prevent her, "What the hell are you doing?”
“I need to get out of here.”
“Sarah, you need to get to the bottom of this seizure.” Sarah glared at him, one hand tucked into the neck of her hospital gown, fingers dancing over an electrode.
“I need to go home. Now.” Sarah had a determination and a fire in her still partially glazed eyes that Luke had not seen in some time. Luke sighed and grasped the metal rail on the bed.
“Sarah.” Luke squared his jaw and gritted his teeth, knuckles white from the way his hands gripped the cold metal. His eyes were locked with Sarah’s in a battle of wills. Luke’s mouth straightened into a line, his brows knitted into a frown. Sarah visibly relented, sliding her hand back out of her gown and allowing it to drop onto the blankets. She gave an exhausted sigh and stared down at her hands, at the white band around her wrist. Luke bowed his head and closed his eyes, relief washing over his entire body.
“At least wait until you’ve had your scans,” advised Luke, his head still bowed and his shaggy hair hanging around his face. He slowly opened his eyes to glance at Sarah who had not moved. She slowly nodded in agreement.

Luke stood directly in front of Sarah’s front door. It was of a dark coloured wood and the varnish was worn down and dull. The bronze numbers 23 barely shone in the small amount of sunlight that poured through the tiny window at the top of the stairs that were situated directly opposite Sarah’s apartment. A sensation of unease settled in the pit of his stomach as he fished the equally dulled key from his trouser pocket. He was not sure where his powers of persuasion had appeared from, but he had somehow managed to convince Sarah to relinquish her apartment key to gather some new clothing for her since medics had cut up the front of her sweater. Anxiously, Luke pushed the key into the lock and turned it. The door freely swung open which took Luke by surprise- he had expected it to be as stiff and worn as the varnish. He stood perfectly still. His eyes scanned the lounge. It was not untidy by any means, but it was a stark comparison to Sarah’s freakishly tidy office. Luke gently closed the front door behind him with the tips of his fingers and edged forward. A mug was set on the top of the coffee table. The inside of the mug was ringed with brown from the numerous cups of coffee made in it. He turned his head to look at the sofa. It was clear to him that Sarah had recently slept there by flattened throw cushions that had been used as pillows.
 
Luke ran his fingers across the top of Sarah’s sofa as he made his way into her bedroom, his eyes darting around at his surroundings. He rested his hand on the glock hanging at his hip as he stepped into her bedroom. The duvet was in disarray on the bed. He glanced around for a bag of sorts. Luke turned to the closet and slowly opened the doors. He immediately located a black gym bag on the shelf above the hanging rail. It took very little reaching for his long arms to be able to drag the bag from the shelf. Luke unzipped the bag and set it down at his feet. Sarah had only two hangers of trousers left on the rail and no shirts. Luke presumed that these were in her laundry. He tugged a pair of navy trousers from a hanger and stuffed them into the gym bag. He closed the doors and turned to her chest of drawers. Sliding the first drawer open, he found Sarah’s underwear. Luke gulped nervously, horrified by the prospect of digging through his superior’s briefs. He quickly grabbed a pair of briefs and a sports bra and stuffed them into the bag. Making his way down the drawers, Luke grabbed clean socks, mismatched as always, and another navy FBI issue t-shirt. He turned back towards the bed. His dark eyes fell upon the dregs in the bottom of the glass on the bedside cabinet and the half burned out cigarette in the ashtray. Luke picked up the glass and brought it up to his nose, the bag tightly gripped in his other hand. He took in a sniff, catching the bitter scent of whiskey. He set the glass back down. Part of Luke felt guilty for the overwhelming curiosity that made him want to look around more, whilst another part of him wanted to run away. His eyes fell upon the photographs. A knot formed in his stomach at the sight of Sarah beaming and her beloved fiancé- he had not seen Sarah smile like that in many months, six to be exact. Luke silently admonished himself for prying into Sarah’s personal life and made his way back to the lounge.
 
Sarah was much more alert and aware when Luke returned to the hospital. She was sitting up on the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over the side and the tips of her toes brushing against the cold linoleum floor. She gripped the frame of the bed tightly as her back arched forward, her red tresses dangling over her shoulders and chest. She had been freed of wires and tubes. At the sound of shuffling at the door, Sarah turned her head to see Luke standing in the doorway, clutching a gym bag as if his entire life depended on it. Luke edged cautiously into the room as if he were about to enter a ring and square off with a caged animal. Instead of pouncing on him, Sarah smiled gratefully at him which took Luke by surprise. Luke slowly handed Sarah the bag which she accepted and rested on the bed beside her.
“Thanks, Luke,” said Sarah as she unzipped the bag and began rummaging through her belongings, setting out her fresh clothing neatly on the mattress.
“So, what have they said?” asked Luke, desperately trying to divert his eyes elsewhere as Sarah hooked her fresh briefs and trousers over her feet and pulled them up under the hospital gown. Realizing that Sarah was going to redress while he was present, Luke turned his back to her and focussed his attention to the poster detailing the twelve steps of hand washing.
“Scans have been done but they won’t know for sure what it is yet until the neurologist has taken a look,” responded Sarah as cast off the hospital gown, allowing it to crumple into a heap at her feet. She tugged her bra on over her head and pulled it down. She glanced over at Luke who was standing facing the wall with his hands in his trouser pockets and his blazer draped over his wrists. She bit her lip in both amusement and attraction. His pose reminded her of a petulant child who had been sent to the corner in punishment. Sarah wriggled herself into her t-shirt.
“I’m decent,” she reported, straightening her t-shirt. Luke glanced over his shoulder first, then turned to look at her. Though still looking pale and the dark circles around her eyes looking even darker than before, Sarah appeared relatively well considering.
“How long will that take?” asked Luke as he watched Sarah run her fingers through her hair and scrape it back into a messy ponytail with the elastic hair tie from around her wrist.
“A week or two. There’s nothing immediately concerning so they’re letting me go with some migraine medication and an appointment to see the neurologist in two weeks time.”
“Uh-huh. Should you really be going back to work?” Sarah’s demeanor immediately changed and she fired a dangerous glare at Luke. Luke backed away, hands raised in surrender, “I’m just worried for you is all.” Sarah sighed, her shoulders slumping.
“I know. I can’t step back knowing there’s potentially a serial killer out there.” Sarah dropped heavily back onto the bed, her mismatched socks in her hands and her eyes fixed to the star pattern on one sock, the geometric pattern on the other. Luke pursed his lips, his eyes twinkling.
“Just promise me you’ll tell me when things get too bad and you take a break when you’re tired. Talk to me and let me in.” Sarah raised her head and looked at Luke and that’s when he finally saw the glass walls around her shatter into a million pieces. Tears brimmed on her lower lashes and she desperately tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Cautiously, Luke approached the bed and perched next to her. Sarah made no efforts to distance herself from him. She caught the scent of his musky cologne. Luke reached his left arm around Sarah’s shoulders and pulled her in close. Sarah relished the warmth that Luke’s body was exuding. It was comforting. Sarah shuffled closer to the soothing embrace and finally allowed herself to weep. To mourn the loss of her beloved, and in fear for her health.