The Fourth Side of the Triangle

Chapter 13.

“I can’t!” comes a panicked cry and Oliver is sure that she is hyperventilating.

“Come on,” he coaxes, “tell me what has happened.”

There is quiet on the other end of the phone- then a pinched whisper.

“There’s been an accident. James is in hospital. I need you.”

Oliver’s heart stops, but his body does not. He shoves some trainers onto his feet and runs.

-x-

She’s on the balcony when he arrives home; staring out over the city with James’ blankets engulfing her tiny frame. It is still mostly dark, but the first signs of light are just visible behind the clouds. She looks as exhausted as Oliver feels and he has a sudden panic as he realises that she’s probably been there all night- sitting completely stationary, staring over the city, unmoving.

“Amy?” he tries timidly, sitting down beside her. She doesn’t even look at him, nor does she show any sign to indicate that she is actually aware of his presence. He rubs a hand over his eyes that are begging to be closed, trying to shake the unpleasant feeling of lethargy from his body. He knows that he would feel better if he could force something solid past his lips, force himself to chew, slowly, so slowly, but he is already forcing himself to stay awake and that is taking up too much of his power. He has been up all night, slumped on an uncomfortable iron chair for hours at a freezing cold train station, waiting for the first train of the day to roll up to the platform. He had been first on board, first to depart, but he still didn’t get here in time.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m sorry... I tried to get here; I left as soon as you rang. I ran Aims, I did, and I was on the first train out of the country...”

She still doesn’t look at him and he knows that none of this is his fault, but he can’t help but feel so completely helpless, a useless figure, simply sitting on the balcony of a flat that is far too large for one person and staring over a city that is only just starting to wake from its deep sleep.

“They said they’d call,” Amy finally says, eyes drooping, completely tired of fighting to keep them open, “but they haven’t. I haven’t heard anything.”

Oliver exhales, feels thoroughly defeated.

“Give it time,” he tells her, “they need to... have to... you know... operate. And... stuff.” He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, he can barely form a coherent sentence in his head, let alone out loud. There is a bizarre language flying through his brain, mostly English with the occasional French word, mixed with the lines he has been learning for the past few months and at this moment in time, nothing makes sense, nothing at all and it’s completely suffocating, he can’t breathe.

“Amy,” he gasps. He doesn’t know what he can possibly to say to comfort her; there are no words on this earth that can console her save for the ring of the telephone that is clutched tightly in her fist. He wants to be able to give her good news, but he knows even less about the situation than Amy does, and she knows this, and he knows that she knows this. He still has the urge to apologise for something he had no hand in, the result of endless years of manners that have been drilled into his very being time and time again. He opens his mouth to try again, but that is when the tears start. She cannot hold them back anymore and he can feel her pain, her devastation and so he cries with her, pulling her free from the blankets and holds her in his lap, trying to rub some warmth back into her body as she sobs.

“It’s my entire fault,” she chokes, “all my fault. I was going to tell him... he was going to come and see... Ollie, Oliver-”

He kisses her then, desperate to stop her, has to stop her, and he holds her until she has fallen asleep, completely drained of all energy. Then, he carries her inside and puts her to bed, before settling on top of the covers next to her. He will have his time to sleep, but now is not that time. He has to stay awake, stay alert and so he does. He strokes Amy’s hair and sits with his back against the bed frame. Then, he waits for the phone.