South London Forever // George Karim

-donuts for life and flower crowns-

George was out of his seat, heart hammering in his chest by the time Lockwood had already sprinted out of the bathroom and started yanking on the doorhandles to Freddie's hospital room. She was still yelling inside, and there was a crash that echoed out into the hallway.

Lockwood banged on the door and George had to pull him back a little as he called out. "Someone open the door! Let me in! Freddie I'm right here! Someone-"

George tried to slow his own breathing but that didn't seem to be happening any time soon. He could sort the fear in his bones out once he knew that Freddie was okay. She had to be okay. They would get in there and calm her down and her concussion would only last a few days and then it would go back to normal and he would be able read all the things she'd found in the Archives for him and eat jam fingers and try to teach Chai how to be a proper service dog and they would be okay.

"Oh, this isn't good," May said quietly. "She's having a PTSD induced panic attack and thinks she's still in the hospital nine years ago-"

"That doesn't help, May!" Lockwood snapped, and then turned to the hallway, but it was empty and there didn't seem to be anyone around who could let them in. "I need to get in here before she gets herself hurt or thinks-"

May shuffled forwards and crouched in front of the lock on the door, taking a bobby pin out of the pocket of her strawberry adorned cardigan. She began picking at it, bending the bobby pin into a few different shapes. "You could've just said that, Anthony."

Lockwood gritted his teeth.

A few moments later and the door swung open, Freddie's babbling that George couldn't make sense of becoming louder and there was another crash, this time the sound of broken glass. He pushed past May, who gently shut the door behind them and appeared to be saying sorry to the lock.

Freddie was a mess.

She was a horrid car crash on the side of the street that you couldn't look away from.

Except seeing a car crash had never made George's heart physically hurt, and he'd certainly never wanted to hold a car crash in his arms so tightly and never let go and never ever let something happen to her again because Freddie wasn't supposed to have IV's in her arms and bandages around her head and her eyes and blood on her hands and tears on her cheeks.

"Jessica? Ant?"

Lockwood froze. George pushed him in the back and then he'd never seen anyone move as fast as Lockwood did when he ran to Freddie and sat opposite her on the bed, holding her hands. "You're okay, you're not trapped here, Fred."

Freddie turned to him, her shoulders sinking. "But..."

"Its only been a few hours, I promise," Lockwood said, and tugged on the cords filled with liquid strapped to the insides of her arms, where her white sleeves stained with blood and grime and icing powder had been rolled up. "You got... you knocked your head, but you'll be okay. The doctors are just making sure you don't pass out again, but then we'll leave. I promise."

The curtains made a scratchy sound as May pulled them open, and then unwound the window. The sound of London's busy streets and never ending traffic swelled through the painful silence of the room. Freddie let out a sob, and her forehead dropped onto Lockwood's shoulder. "I thought...I thought that..."

Lockwood put a hand to her hair, "I know."

George didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't know who Jessica was and he didn't know what happened nine years ago and he didn't know how to help Freddie but he wanted to so badly because each heartbreaking sound she made was like a rapier in his chest. "How's your memory?"