Come Back To Me - Part 3
Title: Come Back To Me
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
Pairing: Pepa/Silvia
Summary: Post best/worst wedding of the year.
A/N: I have little to no knowledge of medical technicalities so I kept it all simple and vague. And there's no cliffhanger, as promised. *grins* Enjoy.
COME BACK TO ME - Part 3
Pepa knew the doctor was talking. His lips were moving and his Adams apple bobbed up and down as he did so. But try as she might, Pepa could not compute anything he said. Something about severe loss of blood; the bullet shredding the liver before lodging itself into an artery; the next forty-eight hours being the most critical. Pepa couldn’t take anymore. It was all too much and it bore down on her like a weight with which she was simply not equipped to handle. Pepa let loose a hacking sob and sank to her knees, heaving the contents of her stomach onto the polished hospital floor.
“Tita!” Sara’s cry of panic came from above her but Pepa didn’t have the pride or the dignity to move from her current position. Her stomach jerked and attempted to empty out her already empty stomach. She ended up dry heaving and between that and her weeping Pepa could hardly breathe. She curled into a ball, barely managing to prop herself against the waiting room chairs. Pepa wrapped her arms around herself, her stomach hurting something so fierce that Pepa’s eyes shut involuntarily against the pain.
Sara knelt down beside Pepa, worry written all over her face. She brushed mused up bangs away from Pepa’s face and attempted to get her aunt to uncurl herself from her fetal position but Pepa was not budging. Sara tossed a helpless glance to the doctor who shifted his feet somewhat uncomfortably.
“We could get her on some tranquilizers,” he offered but Sara shook her head. Pepa hated anything that stole away her senses and numbed her. Besides even if they administered the drugs to the taller woman, when she awoke she would simply just panic again. Sara attempted to drag Pepa up again to no avail.
“Sara!”
Sara turned to see her father, Paco, running towards them, an anxious and panicked look marring the features of his face.
“Papa!” Sara cried, managing to sound both joyful and desperate at the same time. She tugged at Pepa’s arm. “Papa, help me with her.”
Paco came to a screeching stop by his daughter and sister. Mindful of the slight puddle of vomit on the floor he veered around the two kneeling women, gripped Pepa’s other arm and hoisted his sister into a chair. Paco then turned around to the doctor.
“Silvia Castro-Miranda,” he spoke authoritatively, the tone in his voice clearly stating that there would be no room for argument. “What is her condition, doctor?”
“She lost a lot of blood, the bullet completely shredded her liver and it hit a critical artery,” the doctor began again, trying to lessen the blow he knew his words were causing on the trio in front of him. “I noticed that someone attempted to operate on her before being brought in?”
Paco nodded tersely. “Silvia’s got a medical degree. She gave instructions to Pepa and her father to try to dislodge the bullet.”
The doctor nodded. “A good thing you didn’t because had that bullet been pulled out, the patient would have gone into shock before bleeding to death.”
Behind Paco, Pepa whimpered pitifully, clearly struggling to not fall apart as the doctor’s words washed over her with an effect akin to someone dumping a bucket of ice water over her head.
Paco resisted the urge to grab for his handkerchief. “What room is she in? Can we see her?”
“She is in the Intensive Care Units,” the doctor replied. His pager went off causing Paco and Sara to flinch. The doctor unclipped it and glanced at the message before replacing it on his belt and returning his attention to the trio. “Room 302, down the hall, third door to the left. But one visitor at a time only.”
“The hell with that,” Paco snarled. “You think I’m just going to let my sister just walk in there alone? You’re out of your mind.” He turned back to Pepa who had taken to watching the scene unfold quietly, wringing her bloodstained hands. Paco grimaced at the sight. “C’mon,” Paco said softly to Pepa, wrapping his arms around his little sister.
The doctor relented and nodded. “Ok. I’m sorry, I have to go. I will be back to check on the patient in a little while.” With that, the doctor turned on his heel and walked hurriedly down the hallway, stopping briefly to talk to a nurse to get a janitor to clean up the mess by the chairs before disappearing round the corner.
With Sara’s help, Paco managed to get Pepa onto her feet, although the taller woman barely seemed to be able to support her own weight. She leaned heavily onto her brother, her breath warming the side of Paco’s neck. Paco glanced worriedly at Pepa as the three of them made their way to Silvia’s room.
**********************
The walk to Silvia’s room seemed to last forever. Pepa was sandwiched between both Sara and Paco, who each kept firm grips on the distraught woman. When they arrived, Sara was closest to the door. Gently and as quietly as she could, she pushed it open and held the door in place as Paco ushered Pepa in.
Pepa took everything in at one glance. The heart monitor machine beeping faintly, the dimmed hospital lights bouncing off Silvia’s unmoving body, giving her skin a luminous glow, the breathing tubes in Silvia’s nose and the IV tube on Silvia’s right hand. Pepa released a choked sob but quickly swallowed any further hysterics as Paco tightened his grip on her.
“I’m ok,” Pepa whispered, her voice scraping against her throat painfully. She wanted nothing more than to go over to where her wife lay but she had to clean up first. It was simply incomprehensible in Pepa’s mind to run over and touch Silvia with her bloodstained hands and dress. She gently disengaged from Paco, made her way to the little bathroom towards the end of the room and walked in. Shutting the door quietly she slumped against the sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror. A haunted woman stared back at her, face gaunt, eyes sunken and dull. Pepa glanced at her bloodstained hands, felt nausea rising from the pit of her stomach and turned on the tap to furiously scrub off the blood.
Minutes passed. Pepa finally turned off the tap, wincing slightly as her now clean but slightly raw hands scraped against the knob. She sighed heavily and was about to walk out when a tentative knock was heard against the door. Pepa opened it to find her niece holding out a bag.
“Lucas just arrived with these,” Sara said softly, studying her aunt, who looked pointedly away.
Pepa grabbed the offered bag. “Thanks, sobrina,” Pepa’s lips twisted into a weak smile before shutting the door again. She placed the bag on top of the toilet and opened it, rummaging through its contents. She pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She shrugged off her bloodstained dress and pulled on the fresh clothes, grateful to be wearing something less restricting. Pepa then carefully folded the dress into the bag, not wanting to ruin it any further than it already was. That done, she zipped the bag, picked it up and made her way out of the bathroom.
Pepa found Paco standing on the side of Silvia’s bed; head bent low as he murmured something in the redhead’s ear. She watched as Paco smoothed back Silvia’s unruly hair before placing a kiss to her forehead. Pepa quickly dropped the bag onto a nearby chair and joined her brother by Silvia’s bedside.
Paco immediately moved aside to allow Pepa room. He watched as Pepa picked up Silvia’s limp hand, pressed a kiss to it before dropping a sweet kiss onto the redhead’s lips. “I love you” and a “come back to me” floated to Paco’s ears and they burned upon hearing the desperation, love and sincerity emanating from said words. Paco placed a comforting hand on Pepa’s shoulder.
“She’ll be ok,” Paco promised. He knew Pepa needed to hear those words. “She’s strong.”
Pepa nodded mutely. She turned around and managed to squeeze the hand that was on her shoulder before reaching back and hefting a chair to set down next to Silvia’s bed. “I need to be alone for a while,” Pepa said quietly, hoping not to offend her brother. She was thankful when Paco simply gave her shoulder another squeeze before making his way out the door.
**************
Pepa sat and stared at Silvia’s prone body. Silvia was far too pale against the white sheets and the fact that she was not moving was unnerving Pepa. Pepa caught sight of the thick bandages plastered onto her wife’s stomach through the thin hospital gown and flinched as a bombardment of images of Silvia’s ghastly wound lay open and vulnerable as she lay on the cellar floor.
Pepa wanted to cry again but she had no tears left to shed. She was dry, empty. A hollow shell. Instead, she impulsively she leaned over and pressed another kiss to Silvia’s lips. “Don’t leave me,” Pepa whispered against her wife’s lips. “You promised. Don’t leave me.”
Pepa then pulled back to examine the rest of Silvia. She bit her lip hard at the assortment of bruises on Silvia’s chest and with a pang realized that they were caused by Pepa’s own hand. Pepa shook violently as she gently pulled down the collar of the hospital gown a little to trace the bruises. Against Silvia’s pale skin, they stood out starkly; splotches of purple, green and red with faint black outlines tattooed haphazardly over Silvia’s chest. Pepa’s heart clenched and the muscles in her jaw twitched as she attempted to hold back her emotions.
“I’m so sorry, princesa,” Pepa murmured heartbrokenly. She bent down to place a tiny kiss on each bruise before leaning back a little only to rest her head next to Silvia’s hand, which she was clasping firmly. Pepa sighed heavily, exhausted to the core. However, safe in the knowledge that Silvia was somewhat ok, that she was strong, Pepa finally allowed herself to drift off into another uneasy sleep.