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KIPPS
Darkness. He was spinning, falling into the void. Coldness enveloped him. Fractured visions and sounds scratched through, forcing his consciousness back.
Screaming, shattering glass, sirens, and shouting.
Voices filtered through. Holly's usual calmness gone.
"You will be fine Kipps, stay with me, open your eyes."
"Kipps, please, stay...oh God there's so much blood".
George bellowing and pleading with someone, his voice etched with fatigue and pure panic.
"Lockwood wait. Please stay Kipps needs us...you...I need you".
A cool voice, firm and detached.
"It’s Luce George, I have no choice..."
Then just coldness and darkness. The voices, screaming, the chaos all faded. He span away into the dark.
Time and all feelings paused.
Voices from far away. A jumbled torrent of words pouring towards him, most of them seeped on into the current of his subconscious. Others settled, voices from the other side.
"Can you hear me Kipps, Kipps?"
"Don't be such a prick, you're too stubborn to die"
"We won Kipps"
"You were the bravest of us all over there Kipps"
"Please Kipps I can't lose anyone"
"Kipps listen, I'm going to need someone else ...the doe eyes they make at each other...urghhh.."
"Come back and tell Lockwood he's a dick”
"I never thought I'd say this but I miss you"
"Lizzy, your nurse...she taught me first aid at Rotwell, she's good"
“You’re in good hands”
"We need good men like you for what's to come Mr Kipps…this country needs you"
"You and Lockwood friends? Surprised face here"
"What happened to Ned....it wasn't your fault Quill..."
"Bobby and I we shouldn't have blamed you."
"Shit Kipps we were so badly let down but never by you, I'm so sorry."
"Mr Kipps, I'm Elizabeth Mannering, most people call me Lizzy. I'm going to take your blood pressure now..."
-
Lights pricked against his eyelids. It was so bright, so white. There was a constant hum insistent to be heard. He could hear what sounded like a machine somewhere, whirring and chirping like an angry insect.
Gradually, slowly, tentatively Kipps dragged himself back, back to this side...to the living.
Blinking hard his eyes tracked the tube protruding up from the back of his hand, back towards the bank of machines that towered over his bed. He could feel the white crisp sheets against his legs, his chest bound tightly. A mask covered his face, he tried to lift his arm to remove it but his limbs felt alien and wooden like they belonged to someone else.
He looked around trying to make sense of where he was. White blinds at the window closed to the dark and the ghost lamps; it must be the middle of the night. Thoughts of what day it was and how long he had been gone rose. Gone. He'd been literally gone. He groaned.
A nurse appeared in his line of vision. Blue scrubs, her work ID swinging slightly as she quickly moved to his side.
"Mr Kipps? You're awake? No don't move, don't move! My name is Lizzy Mannering I'm a nurse, you are in St Thomas's Hospital and you’re in Intensive Care. Can you remember what happened?"
Kipps willed his voice to work but his throat was harsh and painful. He needed to speak, check he was still there, still alive. A strangled croak emerged from beneath his mask.
"Just relax; you were intubated for a little while so your throat will feel strange. Don't try to talk, just be calm".
Kipps exhausted flopped back on the bed. His eyes flickered to the nurse who had spoken; her head turned slightly away observing the monitors. She had short, blonde hair. Really short Kipps thought, what was it they called it...a pixie cut? Her face was turned away but she had three piercings in her ear, two studs and a small silver feather.
Years later Kipps would still recall in great detail that feather, its delicate features etched in his mind like a tattoo.
He stirred slightly and the nurse turned her face towards him. She smiled softly.
“Just take it easy Mr Kipps, you're doing great".
Except Kipps wasn't doing great, in that one movement, in that turn of the head, her words and that smile he was lost forever.
He managed to stammer, his words hoarse.
"I'm...I'm dead?"
"No you are very, very much alive and safe here with me. Please try and keep still you've had extensive stitching.”
She leaned forward slightly; Kipps caught the soft scent of Lavender. She was speaking her pink soft lips moving rhythmically, but her words were lost to him.
He tried to speak again, but the darkness swept up to greet him again.
-
Freezing fog surrounded him. He was in a small square, broken flags beneath his feet and towered over by dark buildings leaning towards him at impossible angles. Giant ghostly forms threatening and looming seeped towards him from shattered windows. He tried to move, to run, he know he needed to seek the second gate. Where were Lockwood and Lucy? George was moving too slowly; maybe he was behind with Holly. He tried to call out in panic but his mouth was locked fast. His feet were rooted, bound by horror to the grey, slab of cold earth.
One of the tall grey figures crept closer. It was improbably tall, towering over him, with its malevolent jaws opening wider and wider. Kipps was cowered waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for what was always bound to happen since Lockwood had led them to this infernal place.
Then, suddenly, he heard his name. It was being called over and over, a soft melody in the greyness. Kipps, suddenly free of the monstrous hold on him ran towards it.
LIZZY
Lizzy spoke softly trying to reassure him, he was agitated and murmuring and his vitals although better were still worrying her. She was relieved when he fell unconscious again, happy in knowledge that by sleeping he was slowly healing.
She knew his name, Quill Kipps, his old team famous for all the wrong reasons. Some of the lads in Rotwell where she'd worked previously had kept a morbid bet on how quickly he would lose his current team. A few of the girls gossiped, cooing and tittering about risking ghost touch for his touch, impressed by the famous grey uniform. They would organise and rank their agent crushes, cutting pictures out of the papers and pasting in books, etching hearts and names over the top. Even The Problem incapable it seemed of stopping the juggernaut of teenage hormones.
She had seen him the odd time, back when he was the great Fittes agent out in the field. In the horrors of the Black Winter she'd been tasked to be down on the front-line, standing by waiting for people to treat. There were far too few people to treat in those harsh nights, just waiting and then delivering bad news to shell shocked parents and friends, over and over. She'd been there that fateful night down at the Chelsea Outbreak when he lost a young team member, pulled out of an office block by him. The Fittes medics had sprinted over but even at a distance she could see the young lad’s eyes, forever unseeing. He hadn’t stood a chance. She recognised that grim resignation Kipps wore on his face, she wondered then if he wore a mask of composure like she did. Probably, she had thought, and given his age and the likelihood of his talents fading she felt nothing but pity for him. What became of agents when their talent faded, all their worth wrapped up and nurtured for years gone? Lizzy already knew the answer, they were either disposed of like office trash or became supervisors, training new recruits and so the cycle began again.
Though she knew his face she hadn’t recognised him at first when he had been rushed into the hospital, the night that Fittes fell. She had thought him a much younger agent when he'd arrived, with his sallow face and bloodstained clothes and wrapped in some ridiculous tattered black coat dwarfing his thin frame. Holly, her old colleague from Rotwell had swept in and that's when she first learnt the truth of Mr Quill Kipps and his sacrifice for his friends.
It was good to have met Holly again, catch up on their respective lives. Not that it took Lizzy long to tell hers. She'd always respected the clever, organised and efficient Holly she had met at Rotwell. She had been a natural in her first aid class. It had cut to see her lose her confidence and sparkle, worn down by misogyny and carelessness of those adults who should have done better.
She would carefully watch his vital signs, relieved when they slowly ticked upwards and improved over those first few vital hours. She held his hand as he tossed and murmured, barely conscious. She then watched fearfully his deathly stillness, not allowing the machines readings to allow her to rest and, instead, sat tracking each rise and fall of his chest.
He wasn't her type, the red haired young man asleep in front of her. He seemed to be all limbs and more limbs, her mother would have said he needed a good meal or two. Not that she had a type, a few dalliances with junior doctors here and there. A few dates with that agent from Tendy's, nothing serious all superficial. Yet there was something of herself that she recognised in this sleeping young man, expectations forced upon someone that hardens like a shell. Trauma. When she left that first night she could not remove the image of him from her mind.
He'd woken on her second shift briefly. His eyes glazed and unfocused, mumbling nonsensical words before he lapsed back into a fitful sleep. She was convinced he'd moaned her name softly a few times. Then shook her head, dismissed it as pure fancy. Shit, what the hell was she even thinking? He was her patient, and she was not a desperate school girl. Yet, she found herself talking to him whilst he was asleep. She did that for most patients it was good for them to hear a voice but with Kipps it was different. She found herself sharing her past, exploring tentatively out loud the horrors she had witnessed. She felt somehow he would understand.
KIPPS
Kipps woke to someone holding his hand. The nurse? Lizzy, the image of her smile and the memory of her scent flooding his senses. He squeezed the hand back slightly. He didn't expect her hands to feel so....podgy....warm...and slightly moist.
He opened one eye.
"Urghhh, George get the hell off me, why are you holding my hand?"
George, who had been half asleep, jerked upright and whipped his hand away as if burned.
"Kipps! You're awake, I was just you know letting you know we were here...Lucy, Holly, Lockwood he's awake!"
Kipps groaned, this time his voice finally working.
"Is the sodding King here as well what are you all doing crowding round me. You're all staring at me, give me some room to bloody breathe".
Holly appeared smiling broadly.
"Oh Kipps you're awake"
Then Lucy her eyes shining brightly.
"Hey how are you doing?"
Behind them the tall, dark figure of Anthony Lockwood who didn't say anything but Kipps caught that he breathed a sigh of relief before smiling.
"Glad to see you awake, Mr Kipps. Your cousins have all been worried about you. I must say you don't look that alike".
The voice was clear and pleasant with a hint of laughter. It was her, the short hair, the studded ear. His eye travelled to her face, noticing the bluest eyes, blue like glacial water. They could have felt cool, but Kipps thought they were the warmest eyes he had ever seen.
"I'm not bloody related to George or Lockwood and I only held his hand because I thought it was yo....someone else"
Kipps then did truly die, of utter mortification. Lizzy smiled and raised her eyebrows slightly.
"Well, but I could see how much they cared for your wellbeing so I turned a blind eye when they claimed you as a relative to get in here. It's good to see you conscious and talking, you had everyone worried. Oh and I don't really mind whose hand you hold".
She winked mischievously.
A wink. She winked. She winked at me thought Kipps. He died for the second time in as many minutes.
"It was my fault, I came in the ambulance with you Kipps and they said only family could go through. You were about to go into surgery and I realised Lizzy was involved and we know each other, from Rotwell back in the day. She needed some info on what had happened, so I explained everything"
Holly who had been breathlessly rushing her speech came to a sudden stop. Lockwood suddenly looked up sharply.
"Everything Hol?"
Kipps watched as Lizzy glanced towards Lockwood.
"So, Hol explained some stuff to me, just to me not the Doctors. I thought his injuries looked inconsistent with the tale she was spinning and was questioning her. I can't say I understand completely what...where you've been"
She faltered.
"But I trust Holly and what she told me won't go any further".
Lockwood stared at Lizzy thoughtfully as if assessing her, and then nodded.
Kipps closed his eyes suddenly feeling weak and dizzy. Then a thousand thoughts occurred to him.
"Wait what actually fucking happened. Lucy where did you go? I remember the ghosts, God all those shattered pillars. Those morons and Sir Rupert...what happened to Fittes...Marrisa...Penelope..whoever she was. Is everyone OK...did you see Bobby or Kat in there? Where's skull? Wait what day is it?"
Kipps was suddenly manic, trying to push himself up. Four voices started clambering at the same time to recount the events.
"No! Enough."
Kipps glanced towards Lizzy, she had started to take his pulse. He was acutely aware of her fingers on his hand and breathed in sharply. They weren't warm or moist, they were in fact decidedly not George like.
"Not now guys, Mr Kipps needs rest. He's had major surgery and I've bent the rules enough letting you all in here, the door hasn't stopped revolving. None of you look in tip top shape I suggest rest for you all".
Her lips pressed together firmly.
Kipps took in the bruises on George's face, now yellowing from his encounter with Gale's men with a few fresh ones appearing over the top. Lucy, Holly and Lockwood all had various cuts and bruises, plasters and bandages. Plus something else, Holly had two streaks of silver in her otherwise perfect, dark, straight hair. Lucy and Lockwood looked practically like octogenarians with salt and pepper streaks. Everyone looked exhausted. Kipps too was suddenly aware of his own exhaustion, he's body ached and the pain in his side was starting to roar.
"Go on, piss off everyone. I'm knackered and you look like a bunch of Relic Men who haven’t seen a mirror or clean water in decades".
Lucy gave Kipps a brief hug.
"OK we will clear out. I'm so proud of you, Kipps. I meant what I said. Do you remember? When we were...over there, about to come back"
Kipps looked away, his eyes suddenly wet with tears, and all he could do was nod.
George nodded towards Kipps solemnly.
"See you soon; I'll bring some doughnuts, yeah? You need feeding up. "
Holly was busy talking to Lizzy.
"You'll ring if there are any changes? You've got my number? OK, thanks. Bye Kipps, we will be back tomorrow. "
She leaned closer to Kipps.
"Lizzy is amazing. She'll look after you,"
Kipps looked towards Lizzy, who was now scribbling notes into a file.
"Yeah, she seems really lovely."
Holly looked quizzically at Kipps, then towards Lizzy, nodding slowly with a slight smile.
"Hmmm, yep, she's the best."
Lockwood next, he clasped Kipps forearm and leaned down.
"We owe you...I owe you so much Kipps...thankyou"
"Alright, Tony, don't get emotional. Save those puppy dog eyes for someone else, eh?"
"I mean it."
"I know you do."
The two young men paused for a moment, grasping each other's arms, both now realising the deeper understanding and connections they had made.
"Take care of Lucy, she looks tired."
Lockwood grinned.
"Also ask her out for coffee, you bloody bell end."
Lockwood grinned again, his whole face lighting up. He glanced towards Lucy, who was talking softly with George.
"What? We are just friends... wait, do you think she would say yes? Well, I guess I'd have more success than when you asked her."
Kipps rolled his eyes
"Go home, you daft prick."
Then they were gone, George already listing everything they needed from Arif's on the way home. Holly discussing with Lockwood repairs needed to their beloved Portland Row.
Kipps sank in to the silence. Darkness again but this time welcomed.
-
"Do you live here Nurse? Every time I wake up you're there."
Kipps was glad Lizzy was there. He'd feigned sleep for a few minutes since he had woken up and watched her through half-opened eyes quietly as she worked. She was seated at the foot of his bed and was staring at a chart, tapping her pen against the small desk there.
"Feels like it some days, but no, I'm here for the nightshifts only. Helps that I'm a vampire. "
Lizzy hadn't glanced whilst she spoke but raised her head and looked Kipps straight in the eyes.
"But I promise I don't bite,"
Kipps squirmed. What was his stomach doing? He felt like he was 12 again, and he was back to when he had scored his first kiss with Tracy Wright after salt bomb prep behind the gym at Fittes. His face warmed. It wasn't like he was adverse to flirting or women. There had been conquests, enough one night stands. Never with his team mind, but with girls from other agencies throwing themselves at the famous Fittes uniform rather than him. Plus a few memorable dalliances with older clients who were always so grateful after a successful job. Always one night stands, always superficial, much like all of his relationships in life.
"Also, please call me Lizzy. Nurse makes me sound ancient and all homely and nice. "
"You aren't nice?"
"Only when I do bite"
Kipps swallowed hard. He hardly knew her. His mind was racing. He felt like he knew her whole story and knew what tales lay behind those piercing eyes. How was that even possible?
"OK, obs time Mr Kipps I'll need your arm,"
"Call me Quill."
Kipps spoke softly. He glanced up at Lizzy and realised she was watching him; her hand was on his about to lift his arm. She had paused from her task, her mouth open slightly.
"OK....Quill."
She busied herself with the cuff, cheeks slightly pink. Then she started to speak softly.
"I can't answer all the questions you had for your friends, but I know this. This is the fourth night you've been here; you were brought in with massive blood loss and abdominal trauma. The Fittes building was destroyed. There's some crap in the papers, but quite honestly, I don't what to believe. You also got a visit from DEPRAC. Well, they have a new name now, I think, another stupid acronym, some serious looking Inspector. A couple of Fittes agents, well ex-Fittes agents came. "
"Kat and Bobby?"
"I don't know their names. Pretty girl, but looked uptight and runt of a kid looked like he had a mop for his hair?"
"Kat and Bobby"
"I guess so. Holly brought you in, then the whole Scooby gang turned up the day after and have hardly left. I don't know anything about a skull, should I?"
Kipps stared up at Lizzy.
"So it's over?"
"I don't know what it is Quill".
Kipps didn't hear. His eyes blurred, and there was an acute ringing sensation in his ears.
"It's over?"
Then, to his astonishment as emotional displays were a relatively new experience for him, he wept. He wept for Ned, for countless other agents lost to him, by him. Their names were forever known and repeated each night before he slept, like a macabre prayer. Their graves visited each year, tokens of Lavender left behind.
He wept for Lockwood, Lucy, George, Holly, and Flo their childhoods shattered by The Problem.
Finally, Kipps wept for himself.
LIZZY
Lizzy's heart faltered at the sight of Kipps weeping. She had no idea what to do. Yes, she could set a broken leg or ankle, tourniquet an arm gushing with blood, and didn't hesitate to adrenalin shot a ghost touched victim. She'd even done that to herself on a couple of grim occasions. Trauma, horrific injuries - run of the mill, she knew what to do. Yet displays of emotions, what should she do? She stood and watched him weep.
She'd started training as a nurse straight out of school at 16. They'd lowered the age for most occupations in medicine back in the late 90s as the government realised they were running out of people to fill the vacant jobs. Lizzy had never had great talents, a slight bit of touch, but even that had deserted her when she hit 14, and her hips and chest were starting to bloom. She recalled the bitter jealousy at her friends leaving her one by one, off to start their illustrious careers. Then the guilt that crept in as they never returned, one after another, their names added to the memorial in the small Surrey town she was born and grew up in. So she'd decided to do what she could, if she couldn't be an agent she would help them. Three years of training, and she was employed by Rotwell as a front-line medic and training the poor kids in first aid. God, she was proud when she got that job. She was finally part of something. Her parents would finally notice her existence. She imagined the conversation they would have with friends and family 'Lizzy, oh, did you hear she works for Rotwell now? Yes, we are so happy for her.'
The pride lasted around six weeks, six weeks of patching kids up to send them back to their death. She vividly recalled the first fatality, the first one she couldn't save. She was a girl of no more than 14, thrown out of a building by a poltergeist. She was still breathing when Lizzy got to her, barely alive and whimpering - calling out for her mum. Annie Mitchell she was called, 14 and lying broken on the pavement. Lizzy held her, that's all she could do and rocked her in her arms. She burned her uniform eventually, the blood never came out. Less than 12 hours later she chopped her hair as short as she dared, convinced the scent of death and blood was still there.
Lizzy would remember Annie and every agent lost on her shifts. She would recite their names to herself late at night. Forever holding them in her heart, whispering their names and her apologies to the dark. She'd lasted about 18 months in Rotwell. If the death wasn't enough the lack of empathy and downright cruelty from Rotwell and other adults in charge sent her over the edge. So here she was, working at St Thomas's in Central London. It was barely better, still surrounded by death. Still reminded of everything and everyone she had lost, still chanting those names every night in her cold, lonely bed.
Then he had arrived. Barely alive, rushed in by Holly. She'd happen to have been there covering A&E, a shift for a friend who'd got married recently. Lizzy had offered without hesitation, it was that or another ready meal and cheap romance novel. At least she wouldn't be alone.
Then came the nights she had cared for him, back in ICU her normal shift. Watching and waiting for him to wake up. Whispering her story to him in the dark, long hours. Later, Lizzy would realise she probably fell in love with him at that point, even before he had even come round - whilst he was still sleeping. Holly's ludicrous tale repeating in her mind, scarcely believable yet Holly's scared eyes and hollow voice held the truth.
Lizzy was big enough to accept she was jealous of Holly and this close-knit group of friends who crowded Kipps bed. She'd ignored regulations and allowed them in, all tucked up like ducklings in the small ICU room. She knew the importance of people who loved and cared for you in the healing process. She would have let them all in anyway and didn't need the charm offensive that the tall, dark, handsome young man had laid on thick. She thought a few months previously she would have accepted that show man's smile, maybe fake flirted back a little just for fun. Of course, she knew who he was. She had read about all his exploits. Anthony Lockwood, the black and white smile plastered all over the press. She never felt that smile truly carried to his eyes, but Lizzy had quickly clocked that his full smile was reserved for the small, pretty girl who Holly had introduced as Lucy. She mainly sat quietly, a sure case of shock Lizzy diagnosed and had spoken briefly and privately to Holly with advice. Although she would have most liked to knock Lockwood and Lucy’s heads together and send them on a date, so clear was their desire and love for each other. To lean into that love and each other was the best medicine she could prescribe there. Then George looked like he seriously needed a new pair of glasses and a big hug. She'd immediately liked this sardonic young man, and they'd briefly chatted about a shared love of comics when she had spotted one in his bag. His sharp mind and wit were so clearly evident despite his injuries. She hadn't spoken to the young lady (well possibly a lady, it was hard to tell under the layers of grime and mud) who had crept in silently in the very early hours, when everyone had finally gone to track down tea. They had looked each other briefly, and then Lizzy had nodded once. A green, slimy box of chocolates had been produced from under layers of what might have been once considered clothes and left on the bedside table.
She had even envied the closeness of the young Fittes agents who had sat and wept at Kipps bedside. She had tried to give them space, but her heart broke for them and their lost innocence. Just as it broke for the man they had whispered their regretful sorrows to.
Lizzy blinked hard, unsure of how to soothe Kipps. Cautiously, she took three steps forward, took his hand. She couldn't afford for him to be so worked up or his heart rate to be raised.
"I'm so sorry. It will be OK...yes it's over. It's over, do you hear me?"
She took his other hand, desperately clasping them. She wanted to soothe him to distract him. She ran her fingers over his coarse, calloused knuckles. She wanted to make him know nothing would hurt him ever again, not if he held on.
"I lost so many people, they were just kids."
Kipps was shuddering, his breath out of control.
“We were just kids. Quill, we were just kids as well”
He grasped both her wrists, then moved to her hands, seemingly scrabbling for her touch. She leaned forward, moving her hands to his face, forcing him to look up to her.
"Just breathe, Quill. Ssh, it's ok. None of that was your fault. Just breathe. "
Shit, he was having a panic attack. What could she do? She felt her own tears prick against her cheek then, cold against her cheek. She softly moved her forehead to touch his. It was a sorrowful tableau. Two young haunted people, heads touching, caught up in their grief. Weeping together for those they could not save
KIPPS
Kipps couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He was trapped, and the ghosts of past agents were rising up to taunt and suffocate him. Ned Shaw, his eyes blank and unseeing reaching out for him with unnatural long, thin claw-like hands.
Then her hand in his soft words soothing him. He reached out for her. Her hands moved to his cheeks. He felt the softness and momentarily worried if he had stubble. Her head pressed against his, and Kipps held on to her hands, pressing them against his face. His breathing still racing.
"Lizzy, Lizzy I let them die. Help me"
"You didn't Kipps, The Problem isn't your fault. I lost agents too; we remember them and carry on for them. Please just breathe. "
He was dizzy, with exhaustion and the toll of years of grief, sorrow, and guilt. Kipps had always hidden it behind his gruff persona, harsh words, insults, and stupid feuds. It was his defence, tightened only more vice like once his talents were fading. He felt Lizzy's tears mix with his own and looked up.
"You lost people?"
"I say their names every night. They are with me. Yet what happened is not my fault, not your fault. It was not our fault. "
Lizzy was pleading with him. Her hands moved up to his hair, stroking a few errant curls of hair away from his face. She was still crying, Kipps hesitantly raised his own hands and gently, softly wiping them away with his thumbs.
Their breathing calmed, synced with one another. Eyes locked together.
Who kissed who first remains a matter of fierce debate. They both remembered the snot and saliva. It would never have been considered the most cinematic kiss. Yet one second, they were staring at each other. The next, their lips were together. Gently for a second, then urgent, hurried, and probing. Kipps moved so his hands were on her waist. Her hands were in his hair, pulling him towards her. Her slight moan against his lips only encouraged him, and he pulled her hips closer.
"Oh fucking hell"
There was a sharp pain in his hand and blood bloomed across his hand seeping onto the bed.
"Shit, you pulled your IV out"
Lizzy had shot up like she was electrocuted. Kipps watched her, blushed cheeks running to get gauze and tape.
"I did not, you did whilst we were. Whilst you..."
Kipps faltered. Lizzy was tending to his arm, eyes focused on the task. They were both quiet lost in thoughts and feelings.
"I...I...shouldn't have done that...we shouldn't have. You’re my patient; it goes against all my ethics. It won't happen again I'm sorry".
Kipps noticed the tremble in her voice and took it as regret at what they had done.
"Patient?"
Kipps was stung. His face soured and the walls that had dented slightly with the kiss and scent of her in his arms snapped back in place.
"Yeah you're right, it shouldn't have happened. I was vulnerable because of my injury and you took advantage of that. I'm your patient."
Lizzy stared at him, her nostrils flared ever so slightly and her face became a mask. Kipps swore to himself, why had he said such a dickish thing. He half reached for her hand but she'd already turned away, collecting the detritus of bandages and swabs she'd used to clean his arm.
"This is going to hurt"
Kipps exclaimed loudly and swore as Lizzy jabbed the IV needle back into his hand. A bit vehemently Kipps thought, although probably what he deserved.
The rest of the night passed in sullen silence, occasionally interrupted by a brief direction from Lizzy for Kipps to hold out his arm or for her to check his observations. Neither making eye contact, both of them smarting, hurt and confused.
Towards dawn, having tossed and turned, Kipps foolishly resorted to sarcastic charm. This involved him winking and asking if they could make it up and he could have a bed bath. Of course every single person in that ghost-infected city, bar Kipps, could have foreseen what would have happened. Lizzy stormed out, flinging the door open so hard the blinds clattered and shimmied as if caught in a sudden breeze.
"Your day shift nurse will have to do it. He's called Henry and I'm very sure you aren't his type".
With that retort she was gone.
-
"Oh Kipps you're such a dick."
Holly looked pitifully at Kipps. It was the afternoon, light pouring in, casting moving shadows on to the bed. She'd wheedled the whole sorry story out of him on her solo visit. Lockwood, Lucy and George were meeting with Barnes.
She shoved the basket with homemade muffins (carrot with cheese cream frosting) hard at his chest.
"Oooff Holly that hurt."
Kipps held his side where he'd been whacked by the now crumbling and forlorn looking muffins.
"She didn’t want it to happen, she said as much. She definitely said it wouldn’t happen again, she just felt sorry for me probably."
"Do I have to call you a self-centred, overly morose, sarcastic knobhead because I will Kipps? I swear none of the men in this agency, apart from George, know the first thing about girls"
Kipps glanced up and caught his tired, crestfallen reflection in the mirror opposite his bed. He heard Holly sigh sympathetically.
"It's clear, no obvious, that she likes you. Didn't you see all the glances and smiles she sent your way, the gentle touch. I mean I am pretty sure she didn't need to touch your hands as much as she did; there was no medical need for it. Plus she's worked practically nonstop since you were admitted and Henry said she would phone and check on your progress or to remind him how to make sure you were comfortable when she wasn't on shift."
Kipps gulped.
"That's her job though; I'm still just a patient"
He glanced at Holly and sensed her struggling to keep her composure.
"Good God, Kipps. Stop, for once, feeling sorry for yourself. Stop being so defensive, actually allow something good, something that could possibly be amazing, happen to you".
Kipps hadn't seen Holly quite as riled up as this. The reprimand hurt, but was she right?
"Well it's too late, I'm discharging myself. So no more night shifts, no more hospital, I go home to my flat in Wandsworth. I leave here today, it's final".
Kipps readied himself for another Holly telling off but it didn’t come, instead she was looking at him.
"Do you like her Kipps?"
Kipps fiddled with his hospital gown. His voice was quiet and strained. He thought of the few hours they had shared. The kiss that had felt somehow like the first shafts of dawn sunlight piercing the long night. He knew he had felt more alive with Lizzy in that small anonymous hospital room than he had in all of his years at Fittes. He decided to take the tiniest small pebble out of those tall walls that surrounded him.
"I do"
"That's the cleverest thing you've said all afternoon, right this is what we do..."
LIZZY
It was Holly they had to thank she thought. The card and flowers that arrived at the hospital days later had her air of crisp organisation around them. The other nursing staff cooed at the blooms but it took a while for her to open the accompanying note. She had been stung at his words, his arrogant bravado and the empty room she found on her next shift. For a few seconds her stomach had dropped in pure panic, he couldn't have...he was recovering so well. The drenched relief when she learned he'd discharged himself then the sharp, painful rebuke she gave herself - no goodbye or message left. He’d just left an empty bed and the echo of his presence. Why should she be so affected, after all wasn't he just her patient?
The written message inside was all him though, the scrawl in his handwriting that seemed to perfectly match his scrawny appearance. She smiled at the thought, she liked scrawny.
Lizzy,
I'm sorry, you helped when I needed it the most and I know my words hurt you. I'm not great with them, with writing or thinking. This letter being a great example of that.
I’ll be honest I was too scared to write it but more scared of Holly Munro and her death stare, she’s watching me now. She thinks there was something to us and I think she might be right.
I don't really know what we were, I know, well I think I was more than a patient. I just know that there was something, a spark maybe. More than you being my nurse and me being the biggest idiotic patient in all of that hospital.
I know we didn’t spend long together. Would you like to meet up, maybe get a coffee? Work out what, if anything that spark is. This is my flat number if you wanted to speak to a fool....
-
So here she stood, Wimbledon Park. She lived nearby, her little flat in Southfields.
Then there he was.
He hadn't seen her yet. Then she saw his eyes fall on her, and he smiled.
"Hey, how are you feeling?"
"Hi, I’m glad you are here"
They spoke at the same time then did the no you speak-no you speak ritual dance. Lizzy would normally be cursing her lack of conversational prowess, but it didn't feel weird. It hadn't from the start.
"It was good to speak to you on the phone"
Lizzy nodded, they’d spoken for hours, God knows what the phone bill would be. She’d even rang before 6pm cheap calling rates, her mother would be having chills. They spoke of everything -their time in the agencies, childhoods (both predictably shit and full of superior siblings, classic really). He spoke of his guilt at agents he'd lost and Lizzy told him about little Annie Mitchell, again, but this time him awake and listening. Really listening.
She realised she hadn't ever stood so close to him, he wasn't tall they pretty much matched in height.
She had worried that their shared experience would amplify the sadness and they would become mere reflections of each other, of their loneliness and grief. Yet, she sensed rather than drag each other down into despair and darkness that combined they could reach out of the shade. They would turn together towards the light and happiness.
They walked for a while in silence, glancing towards each other occasionally but suddenly both tongue-tied.
"Coffee?"
Lizzy crinkled her nose. Turned towards the young man, she saw the hope sparking in those deep eyes.
"Oh Kipps, I'm sorry I just can't"
"Yeah…no of course....I get it..."
Kipps hands were in his pockets and he shuffled slightly away his brow furrowing. Lizzy leaned forwards and grabbed the lapel of his jacket, pulling him back towards her.
"Shut up you idiot....I can't stand coffee but I'd love a cup of tea, maybe something to eat, toast?"
"Toast would be good...so we are on a date then I guess? Like right now?"
"I guess so, but I haven't really ever done this. I don't know what people who go on dates do"
Lizzy noticed Kipps raise his eyebrows suggestively. She laughed aloud.
"No...you know what I mean..I mean we've spent so long being adults, long before we actually were. Dealing with the fallout and crap of this fucked up world that I feel I've missed out on well everything...."
She was rambling she knew that. She also very much knew she still had her hands on his chest and his hands were on her upper arms. They were very close.
"Well, what would you like to do?"
"Oh well...I want to go on walks in the park and feed ducks. I want to go the cinema and dash home in the rain before curfew. I want to buy a Christmas present for someone that means something to me. Oh, I'd love to go on the little fun fair they put up here in summer...except maybe not the ghost train"
"Yeah let's skip that. We could get candy floss, I've never had that! See a live band? Maybe go on the train to Brighton for the day, get fish and chips? I’d like to go to a pub and drink a pint."
They looked at each other some more, possibilities flickering in our future. They wouldn't be free completely, of course not. They still existed in a world where ghosts walked amongst them and ghosts stalked their memories, but they no longer faced that alone.
"Cafe then?"
Lizzy smiled at Mr Quill Kipps and nodded. Then she pulled him closer their noses gently touching.
"Cafe...tea...yep. Oh and Quill, the other stuff people do on dates we could try that as well yeah?"
The second kiss was a whole lot better than the first. Less blood spray for a start.
Then she took his hand and they started to walk.