Chenford Oneshots

You Were so Strong For Both of us

Tim's hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. The sirens echoed in his ears, but his mind was drowning in the possibilities of what he might find when they reached the hospital. Lucy sat beside him, silent, but he could feel the tension radiating from her. She was just as terrified as he was. There had been a call earlier—a car crash. And now, here they were, racing toward the scene, their hearts in their throats. But what made it worse was the nagging feeling in Tim's gut, the one that told him, deep down, this was more than just another accident. His thoughts kept flashing to Tamara. She'd been acting distant, closed off lately—something wasn't right. What if it was her? He stole a glance at Lucy. Her face was pale, her lips pressed together in a tight line, but she hadn't said a word. She didn't need to. They were both thinking the same thing. The fear, the worry—it was all consuming.

When they arrived at the hospital, the chaos hit them immediately. EMTs were moving quickly, the hum of machines and the low murmur of voices filled the air, but everything felt distant. Tim's mind raced, each step heavier than the last. He spotted Sergeant Grey nearby—a familiar face from their precinct. Grey's gaze flickered between the two of them before he took a step closer, his face grave. "I'm sorry," the he said, his voice tight. "It's Tamara. She's the one in the accident."

Tim's world stopped. For a moment, he couldn't hear anything but the pounding of his heart. His mouth went dry, and he saw the world blur around him. Lucy's hand shot out, grabbing his arm, and it jolted him back to reality. He looked down at her, and the panic in her eyes hit him like a punch to the gut. "No... no..." Lucy's voice faltered, her grip tightening on his arm. "Is she—?" "She's in a coma," the Grey interrupted gently. "They're doing everything they can. I... I'm sorry, but you need to be prepared. It's bad, but we don't know the full extent yet." Tim felt his legs go weak, but he couldn't let Lucy see him break. He had to be the one to hold it together. He had to be strong. He pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her tightly, his chest tight with a pain he couldn't quite name. Lucy buried her face into his shirt, shaking, her breath hitching. She was holding it together, but just barely. Her hands were clutching him like she was afraid to let go, and Tim could feel her trembling against him. He closed his eyes, swallowing down the wave of fear threatening to swallow him whole. He could feel himself unraveling inside, but he couldn't show it. Not now. Not when she needed him more than ever. "Lucy..." he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "She's strong. Tamara's strong. She's gonna pull through. She's gonna fight, and we're gonna fight with her. We're gonna get through this." Lucy nodded against him, but he could feel the hot tears against his shirt. He couldn't say anything more, couldn't promise her anything he wasn't sure of himself. All he knew was that, somehow, he had to be the strong one for her. He had to be the anchor.

But inside, Tim was falling apart.

The minutes turned into hours as they waited in the sterile hospital room, the clock on the wall ticking away each second, each minute dragging them closer to an uncertain future. Tim kept his gaze fixed on the door, his mind racing through all the things he wished he had said to Tamara before this—things he wished he could take back, things that felt so trivial now. What if it was too late?

Lucy had fallen silent, her head resting against the wall beside him, her hand still tightly holding his. Tim could feel the tension in her body, the way she was holding herself together just to keep from falling apart. He didn't know how to fix this. Didn't know how to take away her pain. He wanted to believe the doctor's words—that Tamara was strong, that she would make it through—but a part of him couldn't shake the fear that it was too much. That they'd already lost her, in some way.

It wasn't until a doctor came out, his face still calm but with a quiet urgency in his eyes, that the world came crashing back into focus. They both stood up from the uncomfortable hospital seats. Tim's chest tightened as the doctor spoke. "She's stable for now. The next 24 hours are critical. We'll know more soon, but she's still unconscious. We're doing everything we can." Tim let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, but it wasn't enough to ease the tight knot in his stomach. The words 'stable' and 'critical' were still cold comfort. Lucy hadn't moved, hadn't looked up, hadn't breathed in relief. And he couldn't blame her. Neither could he.