Across The Bridge

A/N: The Westminster Bridge Terrorist Attack on London on March 22nd 2017 lasted 82 seconds and claimed the lives of five people. Many others suffered major life-changing injuries. This is inspired by those events and the BBC Documentary 'Hospital' that covered the injured treated at St Mary's Hospital, Paddington after the attack. No disrespect is meant to anyone injured or affected by the attack. Some of the words and emotions are those expressed by victims and medical staff involved in the aftermath.

As ever, How To Train Your Dragon remains the property of Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks.

ACROSS THE BRIDGE.

22nd March 2017, London.

"He's unstable! Push fluids!"

"Is CT free yet?"

"Free in five!"

"Sats dropping! O2 at fifteen litres!"

"Where's that CT?"

"A-Astrid..."

The doctor looked up, seeing pained green eyes flutter, one completely bloodshot from impact, bruising almost obscuring the pained gaze.

"Take it easy, sir," he said to the victim. "Your friend..."

"Wife...Astrid..." the young man gasped. "Where..."

"You're in hospital," the doctor said, casting a worried glance at the monitor. The alarm was screaming and oxygen saturations were reading 80%. "Try to stay calm..." The young man lifted a blood-stained hand and pulled the mask away.

"Is...Astrid...okay?" he groaned, his face paling. "Astrid..." His eyes closed, fluttering as he struggled.

"Sats down to 75!"

"Trachea deviated. Tension pneumothorax! We need to decompress..."

"Pulse becoming erratic! We're losing output..."

The alarms screamed louder, the team concentrating to one purpose, each swinging into action, activating protocols and scenarios practiced a hundred times to try to save a life.

"Where's than drain? He's arresting!"

"No output. Start the algorithm..."

oOo

The young blonde woman paced backwards and forwards in the waiting area, others staying out of her way. There was blood smeared on the front of her jacket and on one cheek. Her braid flopped over her left shoulder as she moved ceaselessly back and forth, azure eyes searching the doorway and almost pouncing when she saw someone in uniform enter. She surged forward, her shape tense with urgency.

"My husband was brought in here-he was in the attack!" she said determinedly. "Please, I need to know how he is. What's happening to him?" The raven-haired woman in uniform quietly led Astrid to a chair and sat her down, watching the young blonde woman clasp her hands in anxiety.

"What is your husband's name?" she asked, taking out a pen.

"Hiccup-sorry, Harry Haddock," the blonde said clearly. "I am Astrid Haddock. We-we've only been married a year and this was our anniversary outing..." The woman smiled, her grey-green eyes kind.

"Pardon my mentioning it but your accent suggests you aren't from round here?" she asked gently. Astrid sighed.

"Hiccup is an engineer," she said, insanely grateful to talk about something other than the horrible situation they were in. "We're from Berk but Hiccup was offered a job in Brackley for a year working for one of the Formula One teams. He's crazy about his vehicles and it really was his dream job so I had no qualms about coming with him. I always wanted to travel so since we've been in England we've travelled all over-Edinburgh, Stratford, the Lake District, Paris..."