Top and Tail [boyxboy] [slash]

Chapter 23: The Final Hour

We sped to the hospital in a tense silence. Mum sat in the front, her face pale as the repeatedly tapped her nails off the steering wheel in frustration. Despite the roaring air-conditioner constantly blasting out thick spurts of warm air, the atmosphere was cold in the silence. My stomach fluttered lightly in anticipation. I almost felt giddy I clung tightly to Jay's white knuckles, while he stared out the window, glassy eyed.

Suddenly the car swerved violently to the right, narrowly missing a twisted metal fence post protruding from the pavement at a peculiar angle. It was like somebody had lodged a fishing hook in my intestines and jerked it to the right while I clenched my fingers around Jay's for dear life.

"Jesus Christ!" mum shrieked, her eyes wide with an amalgamation of rage and fear. "Look before you fucking reverse!"

If my heart hadn't been pumping so loud I couldn't hear myself think; if adrenaline hadn't been rushing through my veins instead of blood, then I probably would have found my mum's swearing funny. But the situation was too serious for humour.

"Are you ok?" Jay's lips brushed gently against my ear as his eyes frantically scanned my body for even the most minor scrape or bruise. My lips cracked a small smile.

"A wee bit shaken, but I think I'll manage," I chuckled weakly. Jay forced a feeble grin for my sake, then returned his distant gaze to the window, staring at the colours on the glass.

A heavy aroma that I hadn't noticed before cloaked the hospital, a suffocating scent of chemicals, and sickness, and... death. Wrinkling my nose slightly as we exited the car, I relaced my sweating fingers with Jay's. The fact that we were in the open and likely to be spotted any time now didn't really bother me – nothing really did. Not the low, aching grumbles emitted courtesy of my stomach, not the chilly winter gale whipping my hair into my eyes... The only thing that mattered right now was Jay.

As we clumsily stumbled to the hospital doors, I was increasingly aware of the eerie silence. While I knew that a weekday afternoon probably wasn't the hospitals busiest time, there wasn't another living soul in sight. I swallowed, and tightened grip on Jay's hand. The oppressing silence didn't feel like a good sign.

When we stepped through the automatic doors, I was hit a burning hot gust of warm air from a dusty heater perched above the metal. Blindingly bright lights glared down on us, the synthetic glow harsh and unfriendly. A single nurse strolled by, pushing a creaky metal trolley with great effort.

All in all, not the friendliest hospital. Not at all.

Jay and I trailed after mum nervously, a tense silence following us. Sweeping a few stray strands of dark hair back with a shaking hand, mum approached the receptionist, who was tapping along to an imaginary CD with a plastic red brio. Mum licked her plum smothered lips, faint traces of wrinkles decorating the pale skin around them. I'd never seen my mum look so old, or worn out. So tired...

"Hello?" she enquired hesitantly, her voice quavering slightly. "I'm here for Linda McCallion? I received a call at work today claiming that it was an important matter."

The receptionist blinked in surprise, as if previously unaware of our silent presence. Shaking her head, she dropped the twin biros and stretched her thin fingers, each knuckle cracking with a painful crick. I couldn't stop myself from wincing, much to Jay's feeble almost-amusement.

"Oh, hang on a moment please," she gushed, spinning round in the soft chair, the wheels screeching across the cold tiles. Her pink tongue poked out from the side of her lips as she casually swung her legs back and forth, her eyes rapidly darting back and forth while she scanned the computer.

"Tracey Jamieson?" she asked, smacking her lips together. Mum nodded. "With my son, Ash Jamieson and Linda's son, Jay McCallion."

It was kind of pathetic really, but I actually felt a small burst of happiness that mum had acknowledged the fact we were related.