DISCLAIMER: This chapter describes medical procedures.However, for plot and pacing purposes, they are partly fictionalized and, therefore, intentionally not entirely accurate.
For the first time in days, Yael studied her reflection in the sparse bathroom mirror, and her heart gave a faint lurch in her stomach.
Even in the frigid artificial light from the ceiling fixture, she finally glimpsed a hint of colour in the grey that seemed to have possessed her cheeks.
She was terrified, yet an undeniable flicker of hope swirled somewhere in the depths of her amber irises.
She let out a long breath, barely misting the reflective surface, and the vice that gripped her chest seemed to lighten by an ounce.
She berated herself for the subtle guilt pressing down on her, because after the nurse on duty's rather gruff insistence, she had managed to return to her quarters and get a few hours' sleep in her cot.
The warmth of MacTavish's skin still lingered, indiscreet, beneath her fingertips when the vibration of her mobile phone cut clearly from the other room. Her heart leapt into her throat.
She crossed the distance in a single breath, her hand trembling as she answered the incoming call from Intensive Care.
"What's happening?" she gasped into the receiver, barely recognising the harsh voice that scraped her dry throat. The silence on the other end, however brief, threatened to drive her mad.
She ignored the fierce, painful pounding in her ears and waited.
"He's breathing spontaneously, Lieutenant." The voice on the other end—urgent and vaguely resentful—sounded distant, almost muffled. It flooded her chest like a tide, displacing the air in her lungs, spreading with the persistence of a smoke grenade.
For a moment, Yael was certain she had forgotten how to breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut, the squalid bathroom suddenly spinning around her from the lack of oxygen.
"Lieutenant? Are you still there?" the young nurse barked warily. The call buzzed through the static at a hundred decibels, sending a thrill down her spine.
"Yes... yes, Kathy. I'm here. I'm on my way," the doctor gasped, her own chest hollow, a void threatening to swallow the last shreds of her sanity.She ended the call abruptly, fingers trembling slightly on the mobile's screen.
She had to grip the washbasin to keep from falling, the air sharp and heavy in her lungs. She fought to pull herself together, confused shreds of emotion blurring her vision.
"Fucking hell..." she let out in a sob that choked her parched throat. Her free hand pressed to her lips, she chewed on the expletive, incredulous, as if it had come from somewhere far beyond her own chest.
Yael pulled on her scrub with a numb automatism, fighting the rebellious hammering of her heart behind her aching sternum. The atrocious sensation that her body had suddenly become thin beneath the layers of her blue uniform, legible.
She would later struggle to recall covering the distance from the officers' quarters to the hospital. The sharp clap of her boots reverberated inside her at confusing angles, barely penetrating the thick fog enveloping her brain.
Concrete, asphalt, linoleum—they all blurred together against the sound of her own breath hammering in her ears.
Before she even realised it, her legs had stopped in front of the ICU entrance. She hesitated for an instant that stretched into an eternity, filled with the sharp, sweet uncertainty of what she would find. Again, she wondered why she was so terrified.
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Wait For Me || John "Soap" MacTavish x OC (Call Of Duty)
FanfictionYael Williams, an emergency surgeon at the Royal Infirmary Hospital in Manchester, is haunted by a painful past. Dedicated to her work, Yael is brilliant and tenacious. However, her traumatic past has made her introverted and distrustful. A chance e...
