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“It’s okay, you’re okay.”
Ted’s eyes search Rebecca’s face as his hand firmly massages her upper thigh where he had just gently removed the empty EpiPen. At this point in time, he wasn’t sure if his reassurances were for him or Rebecca. Probably both, he mused bitterly. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins from his quick sprint to the foyer, his mad dash back to the kitchen — the ache in his knees from where he had hit the floor beside the cabinets in his panic was finally registering in his brain, as was the shaking in his hands.
Ah, hell.
He’d heard her call his name, sensed the urgency in her voice — the tone was enough to make his hair stand on end, prompting him into the kitchen from his place in the living room. When he’d found her leaning heavily on the kitchen island, breath coming in through gasps, time began to move quickly and slowly all at once. Somehow, they’d both ended up on the floor.
Rebecca’s breathing was still harsh, but not coming forth in the gulping gasps it had been moments before. Her head tipped back slightly to open her airway more thoroughly, allowing precious air to enter her lungs. Thank God.
“Ambulance,” Rebecca rasps, followed by a rattling cough, chest heaving slightly, sweat glistening across her brow from the effort. Her own hand comes up to push her hair clumsily away from her face, fluttering slightly next to her cheek before lightly brushing at the tear tracks lining her face, then falling heavily into her lap.
“Right, you just hang tight, darlin’, it’s gonna be alright,” Ted soothes as he removes his hand from where he had dispensed the medication less than a minute before, lowering her skirt back into place. His left hand reaches for his back pocket, retrieving his mobile -- it’s then that it registers in his mind that the tremor in his hands has not subsided, but increased, as his right hand clenches almost painfully by his side. Firmly shaking out his fist, he moves to grasp his mobile with two hands, finally able to enter his passcode on his second attempt. As a restless hand comes up to wash over his face, Ted silently curses his clumsiness, finally succeeding at dialing 999. His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, jaw clenched, the fingers of his hand coming up to pinch at the skin between his brows.
In an effort to keep the anxiety rolling in his belly at bay, he takes a deep breath and holds for a moment, releasing it slowly like Dr. Fieldstone had taught him. Ted doesn’t have enough time to get through a full set of his breathing exercises, before an operator is on the other line.
“Ambulance,” Ted requests firmly, answering the operator’s prompt for the purpose of his call. Opening his eyes, Ted stares worriedly at Rebecca’s face, the hand that had been pinching at his brow now coming to rub at his cheek before transitioning to smooth out his mustache. When Rebecca’s eyes finally meet his, Ted shoots her a reassuring smile, nodding, a crease of worry still settled between his brows.
“You just keep breathin’ for me, Becca. That’s it, nice and easy,” Ted coaches as he switches his cell from his left hand to his right, allowing the hand closest to her to settle firmly on her ankle.
“There you go.”
The operator’s voice on the other line pulls him back to the task at hand. As he relays their address and the events that had transpired, Ted’s eyes never leave her face, a slight frown appearing as he notices a shiver ripple its way through her body. Adrenaline, Ted’s mind supplies absently. The hand that had been resting at her ankle, more as a tether than anything else, begins rubbing up and down her shin, both attempting to futilely generate some heat and offer comfort.
“Sir, how is her breathing?” Ted worries his bottom lip between his teeth, mulling the question over. While Rebecca’s breathing is no longer coming out in strangled gasps, it’s nowhere near normal either. He relays this information to the operator, who in turn assures him that an ambulance will arrive in no more than five minutes, instructing him to stay on the line and alert them should anything change. Removing the phone from his ear briefly, Ted takes a moment to let out a breath he didn’t realize he’s been holding, his head hanging a bit. Jesus Christ.
“Ted,” at the sound of Rebecca’s raspy voice, Ted’s head snaps up, his eyes searching Rebecca’s face for any signs of distress, his right hand squeezing his mobile too firmly. His eyes shift down as she lifts her hand lightly above her thigh, palm up, searching, expectedly. It’s then that Ted registers that the hand that had been rubbing at her shin soothingly had now locked in an iron-clad grip around her ankle.
“Hey now, there she is,” he chokes in a faux-cheery tone as he tries to put on a reassuring smile — his voice sounds tight even to his own ears. From the way her eyebrows raise, he knows Rebecca’s picked up on it too, and that his soothing demeanor hasn’t come across as authentically as he hoped. Her hand still hangs expectantly, prompting Ted into action. He releases his hold on her ankle and shifts forward on his knees, allowing his hand to grasp hers — she offers a reassuring squeeze. Their eyes lock and she gives him a slight nod, her head still resting on the cabinet behind her, calming the anxious hum buzzing through his body. I’m alright. Again, Ted takes a deep breath in through his nose, releasing it slowly through his mouth before squeezing her hand in return, his mouth setting in a line, and he nods back. We’re okay. Rebecca hums in acknowledgement, before her eyes drift closed for a moment, a shiver rippling its way through her body once more. Ted frowns.
“Sir, is your door open for emergency services when they arrive?” Ted already knows the door is still locked — he’d turned the bolt himself when they’d arrived home together earlier that evening — but his eyes drift toward the hallway anyway; they hone in on the contents of Rebecca’s purse strewn across the floor, thrown from the bag currently discarded in a heap as he shook it out searching for her EpiPen. Ted frowns again, then squeezes Rebecca’s hand reassuringly.
“Becca, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.” She hums in acknowledgement, trembling slightly, eyes still closed.
Ted leans forward and reaches up to use the side of the counter to leverage support as he hauls himself to his feet, taking a moment to battle the sudden head rush and pins and needles sensation as blood begins to enter his legs again. His new vantage point over the entirety of the kitchen allows his eyes to lock in on the tin of unfamiliar biscuits they’d received from a local primary school just this morning, a gift of thanks for a visit from some of Richmond’s players; the half-eaten baked good next to a now lukewarm cup of tea begins to paint an unsettling picture. Rolling his shoulders back, he places his phone on the island just above Rebecca’s head, transferring the device to speaker before heading down the hallway, stepping carefully around Rebecca’s things. Ted arrives at his destination quickly, unlocking the front door and cracking in open for ease of access, shivering slightly at the chill air that begins seeping into their home. On his way back to the kitchen, Ted plucks a white-knit blanket from the hall closet before hastily making his way to Rebecca’s position on the floor. His knees pop as he crouches back down to her level.
“Alright darlin’, I’m just gonna tuck this around your shoulders — there you go, that’s it. Here, Becca, lean on me,” Ted instructs as he shifts them both around on the floor, allowing Rebecca to lean backwards into his chest. She sighs and leans back into him, and Ted takes a moment to place a kiss on the side of her clammy face, rubbing his hands up and down the length of her arms through the blanket.
“There you go, sweetheart — nice and easy now.”
He takes a moment to take stock of the situation; Rebecca’s breathing doesn’t seem to have gotten any worse, but worryingly doesn’t seem to have gotten any better either. She’s practically vibrating and boneless against him from all the epinephrine, wired, yet energy sapped at the same time. It’s an unsettling combo.
He hears sirens in the distance now, and he places his cheek on top of her head, face looking towards the hallway in which help will enter from. His belatedly realizes that he’s gently rocking them both from side to side — in a soothing motion, no doubt — and his brains works to discern for whom the action is soothing more, him or Rebecca. Rather than parse out a useless answer, he continues his ministrations, placing another peck on the top of Rebecca’s head, hand coming up to brush some hair out of her face.
“You with me, Becca?”
One of her hands emerges from the cocoon of blanket that Ted has placed her in to rest a hand on the arm he’s wrapped across her chest. For the second time in minutes, her hand finds his, squeezing it slightly, conveying everything without words.
I’m okay. We’re okay.
Nothing about this is okay, Ted’s mind supplies. But then she’s squeezing his hand again, more firmly now.
“Breathe, Ted,” she prompts quietly, the words floating out of her on the tail end of an exhale. Ted chokes out something caught between a sob and a laugh, a harsh sound in the stillness of the kitchen.
“Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that? Dear Lord.” He bites out a mirthless laugh, tongue rolling over his top row of teeth, frustrated tears pooling in his eyes. His hands clench where they are wrapped protectively around her chest. Damn it all.
“Ted.” Her head is resting on his right shoulder now, face rolled towards his in an attempt to catch his eye. He feels her hand coming to rest just above his knee, tightening.
We’re okay.
Ted draws a long breath in through his nose, resolutely letting it out through is mouth, taking another moment to place a kiss lightly at her temple; he lets his hands slacken. Rebecca hums.
This time, he just might believe her.