Ill Conceived Plans

The Aftermath

TINY Emma Huntington struggled for life in the neonatal ward – tubes and wires seemed to be attached everywhere, helping her breathe, monitoring her vital signs as she clung to life with both her tiny translucent hands.

Her mother was still in surgery, still in danger; another life hanging in the balance. There was too much damage, too much blood, the doctors were working hard to keep her alive but there would be no more children even if she did make it. Emma's grandmother was also in surgery, she'd "died" once on the roadway – heart failure – a blockage that could have reared it's head at any time but under the pressure and duress of the accident had been discovered now and had almost killed her too. Her aunt was being prepped for surgery, a broken arm, possible head injuries, her own baby being monitored and under threat of being delivered.

Dane looked through the glass at the tiny speck of humanity, his arm heavily around Neville and Neville's around him. It felt as if their whole world was in this hospital. Jane and Malcolm had arrived, Neville's dad was on his way. They were all with Thena, in the waiting room – supported by Sabine and her brother. All exhausted – it was late late in the night – early in the morning but life had stood still. Petra and George were with Ruby and Jane's children having a sleepover, blissfully unaware, well they hoped they were but children pick up on change and upset and this was seismic, overwhelming and overpowering.

It wasn't the way it was supposed to happen.

It wasn't.

Dane had won the BAFTA for best actor. He was supposed to be at Sarah's place with her wrapped in his arms with his hands resting on her pregnant belly. Not here. Not in a hospital not knowing. Not knowing if he'd lost everything.

He didn't even know where the award was now, he didn't care, he'd been blindsided by life, just when he didn't think it could get any better – it didn't.

He couldn't think, his mind numb, his body on autopilot. His assistant had grabbed the Bafta but from there he had no knowledge. It would turn up but it was only a thing. All that hard work and in the end it was only a thing.

His real world was here all here; In that glass room and in rooms all over this hospital.

He wondered, absentmindedly if there were any press outside yet, he knew Mark would handle whatever needed to be handled. The last thing he needed, the family needed, was hordes of press turning this into a story. The timebomb could drop at any time, drop on an unsuspecting, damaged family. And he had to stop it from happening because right now, all that mattered was here.

"Mr Huntington? Mr Hilditch?" a far away voice called somewhere behind them.  Dane and Neville turned almost in slow motion to see a nurse, doctor someone in scrubs beckoning behind them.

The woman, a doctor apparently, introduced herself but Dane hardly took it in, he just needed whatever news was going to be delivered.

"Mr Hilditch, your mother is out of surgery – she's a lucky woman – this could have happened at any time but it happened with paramedics already standing over her, they've put in three stents – she's in recovering."

"She'll be okay?" Neville asked next to him.

"We are monitoring her but everything is looking positive so far," the doctor said, smiling gently at the two men. Both looked disheveled and out of place in the waiting area of the Neo-Natal – Huntington in jeans and an expensive button down and Hilditch, the world-famous Dane Hilditch, a personal favourite, in a tux – his tie undone haphazardly. Both men looked tired and worn and her hearts went out to them.

"Is there any other news – my wife, cousin?" Neville asked.

"Your wife is still in surgery and your cousin is being heavily sedated – we are worried about the head injury and we'll wait to see what happens there before we take her in to realign and pin the arm. It's a waiting game I'm sorry I can't give you more answers."

"Her baby?" Dane asked a little stricken but finally finding his voice. It was hoarse and husky with worry and nervous smoking outside the hospital doors – nervous smoking Sarah would kill him for later he was sure, he hoped.

"We are monitoring the child too – so far so good but a lot will depend on his mother – we will deliver if we have to – is the child's father here?" she asked gently, from the look in Hilditch's eyes she guessed he might be – she was a fan, she read articles and gossip about him, there had been rumours about Tom and his best friend in the past. Though his rumoured girlfriend had been amongst the crowd upstairs in the main surgical waiting area, so maybe it was wishful thinking.

"He?" Dane asked eyes widening.

The Doctor flustered a little, suddenly aware that she might have given something away that the famous historian wouldn't want broadcast, or at least she had appeared to.

"Sorry I tend to call all babies he, it's a bad a habit," she said.

He looked a little disappointed.

"Oh, no, no there's no father on the scene," he said, beside him, Neville bristled.

"I'm her official next of kin," Neville Huntington jumped in, a tinge of anger and disappointment in his voice – "She has no-one else just myself and her underage sister. I have power of attorney. I can give you permission to do whatever needs to be done – please doctor she's like a sister to me."

Neville sobbed and he felt a supportive arm from Dane go around him.

This was a nightmare.

He tried not to be angry with Dane, he was angry at the world he couldn't take it out on Dane, he couldn't. His friend had his own worries, they needed to be strong for each other, a united front for their women and he knew deep down he loved Sarah, it was just..............he didn't know what it was. 

Shit. 

That's what it was it was shit.

He wished Dane would man-up and claim his family but then he didn't know what was going through his friend's head, he didn't know what was really going through his own head.

"Have you been allowed in to see your baby yet?" the doctor was asking now, bringing him back to the here and now. A here and now he really didn't like much thank you very much – roll back 12 hours when they all had everything thanks.

This was shit.

"Emma – her name is Emma – Emerald Elizabeth Huntington," he said quietly, eyes still brimming with tears that wouldn't fall, couldn't. He was so glad he and Lizzie knew – knew what she was, had a name for her – Elizabeth wasn't part of it but he didn't care it was now. He'd heard that both Lizzie and Sarah had put their lives on the line to save their babies – Sarah had broken an arm protecting Bean from the airbag, Lizzie had taken the brunt of the impact on her side. They were strong women, they were strong and fearless and he felt helpless.

He needed Lizzie to tell him it was alright, he needed Sarah to tell him he as a sentimental sook and to pull his fucking socks up, put on his big girl knickers and plow through like they always did, like they did when she lost her parents, when his divorced and when his mother died. She was there for him then and he'd be there for her – for all of them now. Even Dane, messed up idiot that he was.

"I'd like to see her if I could?" he said to the Doctor who looked at him sympathetically.

"I'll see what I can arrange," she said kindly.

"Thanks!" he said.

"Come on Dane let's go join the others, we have a long couple of days ahead of us and if we drop our bundle Sarah's going to put everyone's arse in a sling."

Dane nodded, taking a deep breath.

"I think you're right," he said.

Neville smiled.

"I'm counting on it."