While You Were Sleeping: Chapter 2
Title: While You Were Sleeping: Chapter 2
Word Count: About 2900 (this chapter)
Rating: PG (this chapter)
Setting: AU season 3 (December 2010)
Summary: Ben Wyatt is living a quiet, routine life until one event turns everything upside-down. Basically, it's the plot of While You Were Sleeping in the Parks-verse.
A/n: Another big thank you to angelica_rules for reading this chapter and giving me feedback. And thank you to everyone who commented on the first chapter. I can't tell you how much the feedback is appreciated.
Chapter Two
Two years ago, Chris broke up with a girl named Bethany Whitacre without her realizing what was happening. A week after the breakup, she arrived at the office with a surprise picnic lunch, only to learn that Chris was already seeing someone else. Ben had ended up sitting on a park bench with her for three hours, consoling her as she cried into a red checkered picnic blanket.
He really had been convinced that his unwilling participation in Chris' love life would never get worse than that moment.
As he stands in the waiting room of the ER, he realizes that he hasn't been so wrong about anything since he decided to build try to build a winter sports complex when he was eighteen.
He's not quite sure why he's here. The police had questioned him at the scene while Ann was rushed off in an ambulance, and despite the sweating, chills, nausea, and elevated heart-rate that typically follow an encounter with the police, he's in no need of medical attention. For all intents and purposes, his role in this horrible day is over. Ann is in the hands of medical professionals; the police will do what they can to apprehend the driver. Ben should be home with a cup of hot tea, trying to put the memory of Ann lying in the street out of his head and calm his temper enough to call Chris.
Instead, he's in a crowded ER, sitting between a guy with a gash in his arm and a woman with a crying baby.
It's inexplicable. For his entire adult life, Ben has been the person who does not get involved. He keeps his distance from his coworkers; he gets dumped by his girlfriends for not being able to commit; he doesn't even have a real pet-Tobias only comes around when he's hungry. It's a system that's been working for him for almost two decades now. He learned the hard way not to try too hard; as an eighteen-year-old mayor who bankrupt his town and was hated by every man, woman, and child who'd known him since he was a kid, he knew exactly what you got when you got too involved.
Just look at Ann. She'd been so wrapped up in Chris, so clearly in love with him, and what did it get her? A broken heart and a trip to the hospital.
He blinks, slightly disturbed by the callousness of the thought, and looks around the waiting room as though someone might have read his mind. When no one approaches with torches and pitchforks to drive him from the ER, he only feels somewhat relieved.
What is he doing here?
Chris should be the one in this chair. Despite the fact that his actions were indirectly responsible for what had happened, he was the one dating Ann. He was the one who had claimed to be in love with her. And Chris, for all his faults, is not inhuman; he'd be at Ann's side in a heartbeat if he knew. Chris was definitely not afraid of getting involved.
Ben sighs, standing up and heading for the automatic doors that lead to the ambulance bay. It's dusk now, and other than a few nurses who are outside taking a smoke break, there's no one around. When he slides his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through his contacts to Chris' name, he reminds himself that none of this is really Chris' fault. Chris wasn't driving the car. He didn't intentionally mislead Ann. He definitely didn't mean to leave Ben to pick up the pieces.
The phone rings.
It's not his fault, he repeats like a mantra. It's not his fault. It's not his fault. It's not his-
"Greetings, friend! You have reached the voicemail of Chris Traeger. I am genuinely sorry that I am not available to take your call. For the next few days, my phone will be turned off during my annual meditation and ski retreat holiday. I assure you that I will return your call as soon as I resume communication with the outside world. I hope that you have a peaceful and happy holiday season!"
Oh good Lord.
By the time the beep follows the message, Ben is barely thinking clearly. His annoyance with Chris seems to have returned tenfold, and all he can think about is Ann, pale and lifeless, lying on the street with the gash in her head and her leg twisted in an unnatural direction.
"Chris, this is Ben," he says. His voice is unsteady, and he can feel his hand shake as he holds the phone to his ear. "I know you're off meditating, but I'm currently at Pawnee St. Joseph's Hospital, where your girlfriend has been admitted after being hit by a car. Outside our office. Where she came to meet you for your ski trip. So maybe you want to resume communication with the outside world a little early this year."
Hitting the end button isn't as satisfying as slamming a land line onto a receiver would be, and Ben still feels worked up when he ends the call. Annoyed, he heads back into the hospital, approaching the nurse's desk. He'd been brushed aside when he first got there, told to sit and wait, but his usual common sense and even temper have taken a temporary back seat to his frustration.
"Hi," he says brusquely, ignoring the finger the nurse holds up. "I've been here for over an hour now, waiting to hear something about Ann Perkins-"
"Yes. I know, sir. If you could just take a seat-"
"She was hit by a car!" He bursts out. The nurse jumps, but he barrels on, determined to make someone see reason. "It happened right outside my office. I saw the whole thing. I called 911. I waited around and talked to the police while she was driven off in an ambulance. All she wanted to do was go on a ski trip with her boyfriend, and now she's lying in a hospital in god knows what condition! I don't think it's asking too much for you to tell me if she's going to be okay!"
The nurse stares at him, almost as though she's seeing him for the first time. Ben takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He's about to apologize when the nurse says, "Sorry. I didn’t realize who you were. If you can wait just a few more minutes, sir, Dr. Harris will be down soon to give you an update."
Ben gawks at her for a minute, not quite sure what just happened, and then he nods mutely. He returns to his seat, feeling completely disoriented.
That's all it took? Saying he called 911?
It's closer to forty-five minutes before Dr. Harris ambles into the waiting room. For the first twenty, Ben sat in his slightly dazed stupor, trying to understand his encounter with the nurse. For the next twenty-five, he started to get annoyed again. It all disappears the second the doctor approaches him. In that moment, he has a sudden, sickening feeling that he's about to hear that Ann didn't make it.
"So the good news," says the doctor, as he leads Ben away from the waiting room, "is that Ann is going to be fine."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Thank god," says Ben. He reaches out, grabbing the doctor's hand and shaking it, and is surprised when the doctor barely acknowledges it, simply continuing down a hallway as though he expects Ben to follow.
"The bad news," says the doctor, stopping at an elevator and jabbing a button, "is that she won't be skiing this weekend."
Ben blinks. Is that a joke?
"I'm sure she'll be very disappointed when she wakes up," the doctor continues. "But maybe that's what happens when you take a week of vacation at Christmas." He looks at Ben pointedly, and Ben stares back, feeling like he's missed something important in the conversation. It isn't until he follows Dr. Harris onto the elevator that the faint recollection pops into his head.
Ann is a nurse.
Ann must work at this hospital.
"She has a broken leg," continues the doctor as they get off the elevator and proceed down yet another hallway. "Some fractured ribs. And some swelling in her brain. We induced a coma until the swelling goes down. I assure you, though, she's going to be fine."
"That's wonderful."
"Yes."
Dr. Harris stops and Ben looks at him expectantly. For a moment, they're stuck in a rather uncomfortable staring contest, and Ben is almost ready to offer him a tip when he says, "You wanted to see her, right?"
"Huh?"
He turns his head, glancing through the glass window next to him, and realizes that he is, indeed, standing outside of Ann's room. He shakes his head. "I'm sorry," he says, "But I think there's been-"
The doctor's pager beeps, and he sighs. "You can go in," he says.
"But-"
"I'll be back in a bit."
Dr. Harris heads back the way he came at the same brisk pace, leaving Ben standing awkwardly in the hallway outside of Ann's room. He has no idea what he's doing there. All he wanted was to know that Ann is okay. And now he's being given personal information by her doctor and left alone in her room like he's an old friend or something. It's unsettling.
Not quite sure what to do, he skulks into the room, creeping to the foot of Ann's bed and awkwardly tucking his hands into his pockets. Despite the large cast on her leg, the bruising, the dried cut on her forehead, and the various tubes and machines she's hooked up to, she looks better than she did when he first saw her after the accident. The color is back in her face, and she looks peaceful. Almost like she's sleeping.
"Uh, hey, Ann," he says, rocking back a bit on his heels. "I um…I called Chris. Left a voicemail. I'm sure he'll be here, you know, once he resumes contact with the outside world."
If Ann has an opinion on this, she doesn't voice it.
"I'm glad you're going to be okay," he says. "The doctor-"
"A-A-A-A-A-A-A-ANN!"
The sudden shout comes from a distance, but Ben is so startled that he nearly jumps out of his skin. Without thinking, he backs away from Ann's bed, feeling somewhat like a cornered animal. The woman shouts again, and he hears a clattering of heels down the hallway. A second later, a blonde blur rushes past the door, and then backtracks and enters the room.
"Ann!"
The woman rushes to the bedside, clasping Ann's hand in her own and clinging to it like a lifeline. Ben takes another step backwards, glancing toward the door and wondering if he can flee.
A second later, Dr. Harris enters the room, followed by a heavyset elderly man who is struggling to breathe.
"What's wrong with her?" asks the woman, rounding on the doctor as soon as he enters. "Is she okay? What happened?"
"As I tried to tell you before," says the doctor, "Ann is going to be fine. We had to induce a coma because of the swelling of her brain, but that's only temporary. In a few days, the swelling should go down and we'll be able to wake her."
"Oh Ann," says the woman, brushing Ann's hair away from her forehead. "You beautiful snow leopard. Everything is going to be okay."
"I already said that."
"How did this happen?" the woman asks again. "They said on the phone that she was hit by a car."
"That's exactly what happened."
"But who-how-?"
"That's a question for the police."
The older man, still breathing heavily, hands pressed to his chest like he's in severe pain, wheezes, "Doctor, do you think it would be possible to get a glass of water?"
"Stand down, Jerry!" shouts the woman. "For once this isn't all about you!"
The older man sinks into the chair, still clasping at his chest. No one seems the least bit perturbed.
Ben backs toward the door, hoping to make a silent escape before anyone in the room realizes that he exists, but he barely makes it three steps when someone loudly cracks a piece of bubblegum behind him. "Who're you?" asks a bored voice, and Ben winces as everyone in the room turns to stare at him.
He glances at the doorway. The voice that interrupted his escape belongs to what appears to be a teenaged girl, who looks more like she's being forced to go to the dentist than like she's visiting the victim of a tragic accident.
"I'm, uh, no one," stammers Ben, turning back toward the others. "I was just leav-"
"He called 911," says Dr. Harris, sounding nearly as bored as the girl. "He was on the scene at the time of the accident." He looks from the blonde woman to Ben, and raises an eyebrow. "The new boyfriend, apparently. Chester or Charlie or something."
"Ben," he corrects automatically.
"You're the new boyfriend?" snaps the girl behind him.
Boyfriend? Wait, what?
He raises his arms in surrender, trying and failing to find the words to correct the mix-up, but he can't manage more than a few inarticulate syllables when the woman says, "You saved her life."
"Technically, he dialed 911," says the doctor. The clarification doesn't seem to reach this woman's ears, though. She repeats the words, "You saved her life," again, and he can see the tears welling in her eyes. Oh god.
"I didn't-It was just a phone call-"
He doesn't even finish the sentence before the woman practically barrels into him, her arms tightening around his rib-cage in a bone-crushing hug. "You saved her life," she says again. She squeezes him tighter, and despite the fact that he can barely breathe, he gives her a reassuring pat on the back..
This is bad. So bad. Ann is in a coma, and Chris is off meditating in the mountains or something, and the old man in the chair may be dying of a heart attack, not that anyone seems to care, and he can still feel the unsettling eyes of the teenage girl on his back, and all these people think he's Ann's boyfriend. He knows he should confess. Explain. Tell these people that he's not Ann's boyfriend and go back to his normal sleepy life.
But for some reason, the words don't come out of his mouth.
That reason may or may not be related to the suffocating hug the woman is giving him.
He can't remember the last time someone hugged him.
"Thank you," says the woman. She gives him one last squeeze and then her arms loosen and she steps back. When she looks up at him, her eyes are still glassy with tears, but the gratitude there is unmistakable. He wants to shy away from it, from her, but it's almost magnetic. When she turns back toward the doctor, ready with another barrage of questions, it feels as though a spell has broken.
Reality.
Right.
He slinks back toward the door, grateful that the woman and the doctor are preoccupied again. The only one still paying attention to him is the teenager, and he gets the feeling she doesn't care what he does. "I'm, uh, gonna go," he says to her in a low tone. She continues to stare at him, unblinking, and he swallows. "Tell, uh …"
"Leslie."
"Yeah. Tell Leslie that I said bye. And I'm sure everything is going to be okay."
"Let's hope not."
Ben’s brow furrows; he’s not sure if the girl is joking or not, but she doesn't say anything else. She brushes past him, almost roughly, and he tries not to shudder.
The second he's in the hallway, out of sight of Ann's room, he falls back again the wall, breathing deeply. He has no idea what just happened in there. The doctor thinks he's Ann's boyfriend. Those people think he's responsible for saving Ann. Chris isn't answering his phone.
All he was supposed to do today was finish his work, have a drink at the Christmas party, and then go home and enjoy his holiday.
How the hell did this happen?
He's still leaning against the wall, trying to compose himself enough to leave, when Dr. Harris comes out of Ann's room and starts down the hall. Ben straightens up as he sees him coming, reaching out and catching him by the elbow as he passes.
"Oh," says the doctor impassively. "You're still here."
"Why did you tell them I was Ann's boyfriend?" Ben hisses, trying, for no particular reason, not to be overheard.
"Because Nurse Franklin told me you were Ann's boyfriend."
"I'm not!"
"Okay." The doctor shrugs. "Then why was she meeting you at your office for a romantic ski weekend? We all knew about it. She requested a week off."
"That wasn't-It was-Look, I'm not her boyfriend, okay?"
"Fine. You're not her boyfriend. I don't really care."
Judging from the uninterested way he says this, Ben has no doubt that it's true. Still, he can’t help but add: "Well what am I supposed to do?”
Dr. Harris shrugs again, and Ben knows that his next words will be “I don’t really care” before he even says them. He’s the most indifferent doctor Ben’s ever met.
“Now excuse me," says Dr. Harris. He pulls his arm away from Ben. “I have other patients.” Without sparing another glance at Ben, the doctor continues down the hallway. Ben turns and thumps his head into the wall.
Never get involved, he reminds himself.
God, he needs a drink.
Chapter three!