Plan B

Chapter Forty-four

A commotion in the passageway outside jolted Fran out of her doze.  Somebody was arguing with the nurses again.  She winced and scratched at the skin around the IV needle.  It was actually quite surprising how many people went into hysterics around the ICU, especially considering the state of most of the patients and that they needed to rest.

That said, it was probably worse for anybody in the ICU ward as opposed to a single room.  So many more people were likely to come by.  She yawned and tried to snuggle back into the hospital bed, but it wasn’t all that comfortable.

The arguing voices had quieted now, enough for her to hear footsteps in the passageway outside.

This place needs to invest in soundproofing, Fran thought irritably.

The door opened and light spilled into the room.

Ugh.  Another check-up.

Fran narrowed her watering eyes against the light, wishing that her headache didn’t feel quite so like a migraine.

Photophobia sucks.

Hugely reluctant, Fran struggled into a sitting position, but she had barely managed it before a cannonball of brown hair shot across the room and squished her back onto the bed.

“Ow!” she complained as the needle in her arm moved.  “Brookie!  What the hell?”

He hugged her tightly, burying his head in her shoulder and shaking.

“Thank God,” he said in a muffled voice.

Fran would have patted him on the back, but he was squishing one of her arms and she didn’t want to move the one connected to the drip.

“Are you crying?” she asked him suspiciously.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he sobbed.  “Of course I’m crying.”

Fran was stunned.  Brookie was never normally this emotional.

“By any chance, have you been abducted by aliens since I last saw you?” she asked, trying to push him off her.  “I’m pretty sure the last time I saw you in a state like this was never.”

He just tightened his grip.  “Do you have any idea how scared I was?  You’re in the bl**dy Intensive Care Unit!”

“Really?” Fran said sarcastically.  “You know, I hadn’t noticed.  I thought we were back at school.”

Brookie gave a hiccupping cross between a cough and a laugh.  Fran sighed.

“Brookie, in all seriousness, get off.  I might be contagious – they still don’t know what kind of meningitis I have yet.”

“I don’t care!”

“And I might have blood poisoning.”

“Still don’t care!”

“And I can’t breathe properly if you’re going to squeeze me like this.”

There was a pause.  Brookie’s arms eased off slightly.

“Oh… sorry.”  He let go of her and sat on the bed, looking a little sheepish.  “How are you feeling, anyway?”

“I’m in the f*cking ICU; how do you think I feel?”

“Pretty horrible?” Brookie guessed.  Fran rolled her eyes.

“My head aches, my ears are ringing, I’m too weak to move normally, my neck hurts like a b*tch, I can’t pick up a glass of water without dropping it, I keep throwing up, my feet are cold, my eyesight’s a bit funny… what exactly happened?”