Ross POV
Francis lay peacefully unconscious in the hospital bed behind a glass screen, from behind which Ross and Verity, along with their Aunt Agatha, watched him anxiously. It had been two hours since they'd arrived at the hospital after finding Francis passed out on the living room floor and the doctors hadn't said when he'd wake up.
"Where was he before he came home?" Ross asked Verity.
"I have no clue," she said worriedly, "He was late home from school so I tried to call him but he didn't pick up."
The clicking of heels echoed on the tiled floor as a middle aged woman in a white coat came round the corner. She approached them with a grave face.
"Is he alright?" Verity stood up immediately. "When is he going to wake up?"
"We don't know when he'll wake up miss, but it should be soon. His condition is stable but it's still unclear as to what happened," she replied. "We've run a few tests and the results have been inconclusive so far, but we have found...I don't how to put this, traces of...illegal substances in his blood."
Verity gasped quietly. "You mean...drugs?"
The doctor nodded and Ross's stomach clenched.
"Oh my god," Verity whispered to herself, slowly sitting down again.
"Are you totally sure?" Ross asked the doctor.
"Well, -" she began.
"Just tell us."
The doctor paused as if she wanted to hold it back. "Yes, yes we're sure."
"Shit," he muttered, looking down at the floor.
"It can't be true," Verity whimpered. "Francis wouldn't, he would never..."
"It isn't true," Aunt Agatha interrupted firmly. "Francis, a Poldark, taking those nasty things? Never," she growled, waggling her walking stick at the doctor. "It's lies, I tell you, all lies, lies, lies..."
"I can assure you, ma'am..."
"You'll have to excuse my aunt," said Ross, forcing her back into her chair. "Do you know exactly which drugs he took?"
"It seems he took a large dose of ecstasy, which caused his heart to fail temporarily. He's wired up to a machine right now."
A muffled sob came from Verity, her hand in her hands. "I can't believe this is happening."
Ross tried to console her and turned to the doctor. "Tell us when he wakes up will you?"
She smiled sadly. "Of course."
Ross didn't even hear her. He was too consumed in his own shock, his mind firing thousands of questions at him. Why did he do it? How did it happen? Did someone put something in his drink? And if so, who?
*
Francis's face was grey and unreadable as Verity told him what the doctors had found. She and Ross were sitting round his bed in a modern, excessively air conditioned room, awaiting his reaction, whilst Aunt Agatha stayed in the waiting room. "He won't want a crowd" she had said. Ross observed a single tear slide down Francis's cheek as he listened to the test results. He nodded slowly, as if confirming an inner prediction.
"Francis?" Verity's tear stained face deepened with worry as she stroked his hair.
"I'm sorry," he rasped, choking on his tears, "I'm so sorry."
"Don't apologise," she said. "Just tell us what happened."
"I can't. You'll...you'll hate me."
"I'll never hate you," she replied. "What really happened, Francis?"
"I...I was at a party a few weeks ago," he began shakily. "I think someone must've put something in my drink, I don't know, but I felt...great, I guess. I was relaxed and happy, I felt like nothing could hurt me. Anyway, I found this package in my locker the next day, and...it spiralled. I took it every day, couldn't help myself. It was always in my locker every morning, I just...couldn't stop. I was so happy, and then I just went too far and my body couldn't take it. And now I'm here."
"Oh Francis..." Verity cried, burying her head in the duvet. "Why did you do it? Why didn't you tell us?"
"I don't know. I just felt so free that night, it was like everything went my way for once. And then it was in my locker the next morning..."
"And you never stopped to think who put it there?" Ross was angry. "God, Francis, I thought you knew how to keep away from that stuff? Why the hell did you take the package? It could have been anything."
Francis hung his head to hide his tears and said nothing. Ross turned away, more hurt than angry.
"I'm sorry," he tried again. "I just...why? Why did you feel the need to touch it?"
"Because it made me feel like I was worth something," Francis said, louder than before. "You don't understand, Ross. Everything's perfect for you. You don't know how it feels to be looked down on by every person you meet, you don't know what it feels like to fail, you don't know anything! You're the captain of the football team, for God's sake. I just wanted it to go away, for everyone to leave me alone for once. What am I supposed to do?"
"Talk to us," Verity replied gently. "Tell us when stuff goes wrong, talk about how..."
"Talk to you? Are you serious?" he said, his electric blue eyes flaming. "Because you guys would listen?"
Verity was clearly hurt by his words, and looked to the floor. Ross was silent. Behind them, the doctor was rapidly scribbling notes on a clipboard.
Francis lay back against the pillows, laughing quietly to himself. "Yeah, I thought so." He looked almost mad - his nostrils flared and eyes wide.
"The patient is not stable emotionally," the doctor said. "He needs to rest."
Ross stood up to leave, feeling grim and defeated. Everything had been going so well until now.
"I'll come back tomorrow," Verity said her brother, who stared into space and ignored her. With one last look at him, she turned and walked out the door. They wheeled Aunt Agatha through the automatic doors of reception and went home.
*
Ross's bad mood was still there the next day as he trod grimly down the school corridor with Dwight. They'd barely exchanged two words since registration, and Dwight knew that it was best to leave him alone. He wrenched his books from his locker and slammed it shut, only to see George smirking at him.
"Anything else in there, Ross? Cocaine, maybe?" Ross felt his blood beginning to boil. "Shall I have a sniff for you?"
"How the hell do you know?" he growled, looking George up and down.
George leaned against the wall of lockers, not in the least fazed by Ross's anger. "Well, the thing is about ecstasy is that it's illegal, making your cousin's unfortunate situation quite interesting. News spreads fast, Ross. So tell me," he said, leaning forward. "Where do you get it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't play the fool. Everyone knows that your girlfriend is involved in that industry."
"Demelza?"
"That's her name. Cornish redhead. I'd keep away if were you," he sneered.
"You don't know shit about Demelza," he hissed.
"Neither do you, it seems," George replied. "Did no one tell you? She came here because the police are after her family - some court case that didn't go their way. Scary, huh?"
"Shut up," Ross shouted, and shoved him against the wall.
"Don't believe me? Ask her." He nodded his head over Ross's shoulder. Ross released him and turned around. Demelza, dressed in a long navy dress with her hair tied loosely in a top knot, was standing a few yards away from them, looking confused.
"Ross?" she said. "What's going on?"