Sick Joke

Content Warning: This chapter contains graphic descriptions of injury and medical trauma.

He had begged for every single moment of his life, every perfection, every single turn that made him who he was. But somehow, one way or another, it all found a way to screw him over. It was almost laughable. Danny could just picture it: some high and mighty bastard up there, looking down with those all-knowing eyes, always on the hunt for the next poor sod to fuck over. And once again, lucky him, it was Danny's turn.

The automatic doors of the Manchester Royal Infirmary barely had time to open before Danny was barging through, his heart slamming against his ribs, his eyes wild. He scanned the chaos of the lobby, zeroing in on anyone in scrubs or a white coat. The first one he saw, he was going to grab them, shake them until they told him what he needed to know.

A siren shrieked, the sound like a knife to his skull. He flinched, his whole body wound tight as a piano cord. Lexi grabbed his arm, her fingers digging in, but he shook her off.

He didn't have time for comfort, for pity. He needed answers.

A pack of nurses ran by, a blur of blue and purpose. Danny lunged, the words ripping out of him. "My sister, Jenna Wallace. She was in an accident. Where is she? Is she okay?"

One of them, a woman with an Irish accent and tired eyes, threw him a hurried "Someone will be with you soon" before she was swallowed up by the swinging doors.

Danny wanted to scream. He wanted to put his fist through the fucking wall. His sister could be dying, could be dead, and they wanted him to wait?

Lexi was there, her hand on his shoulder, her voice soft. "Danny, hey, let's sit down, okay? Just try to breathe."

He whirled on her, the fear and rage boiling over. "Breathe? Sit down? For all I know, my sister could be dea—"

The word caught in his throat, choking him. He couldn't say it, couldn't make it real. A strangled moan slipped out, the sound barely human.

Lexi shrank back, her eyes wide, her face pale. Danny deflated, the anger rushing out of him, leaving him hollow.

"Dead," he finished, his voice a broken whisper. He sank into a chair, his legs giving out, his head falling into his hands.

Lexi sat next to him, not touching him now, but close. He could feel her trying to keep her own fear in check, trying to be strong for him. It made him want to cry.

The doors banged open, spitting out a new wave of chaos. Gurneys clattered through, swarmed by shouting doctors and nurses. One was covered by a sheet, a still, silent shape underneath. Danny's stomach lurched.

Then another gurney, this one bearing a middle-aged man. His arm was shredded, the bone poking through the flapping meat, blood everywhere. He was wailing, the sound raw and animal. It cut through all the other noise, through the ringing in Danny's ears.

Was that what Jenna looked like now? Broken and bleeding, her life leaking out onto the cold floor?

He was up and moving before he knew it, his phone in his hand, his fingers punching in the number that had shattered his world. It rang and rang, mocking him with each trill.

No answer. He wanted to hurl the damn thing against the wall.

The Irish nurse was back, blood now speckling her scrubs. Danny blocked her path, not caring how crazy he looked. "Please. My sister. You have to tell me something."

She looked at him, really looked at him, and something like pity flickered in her eyes. "If she was admitted, it would be to the emergency ward. That's all I can say. I'm sorry."

Then she was gone, swallowed by the hospital. Taking all the answers with her.

Danny ran. He heard Lexi behind him, her footsteps pounding, but he didn't slow down. Couldn't slow down.

The corridors blurred, the stench of disinfectant burning his nose. He ran until his lungs screamed, until his vision pulsed black at the edges.

He had to find her. Had to see her. Had to tell her... Christ, there was so much he had to tell her.

She couldn't die. Not now. Not like this. She was all he had, the only solid thing in his shitshow of a life. Without her, he was nothing. Lost.

So he ran, the lights too bright, the walls too close. He ran, and he begged whoever or whatever was out there listening.

"Please. Please let her be okay. I'll do anything. Just let her live."

The words tasted like blood, like desperation. But he meant them. Every last one.

Because if she died, if he lost her...

There wouldn't be enough of him left to bury.

_______________________________________

Danny burst through the doors of the emergency ward, Lexi hot on his heels. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the chaos, the sea of worried faces and blood-stained scrubs. He zeroed in on a nurse, a woman with short, spiky hair and a no-nonsense expression.

"My sister," he blurted out, his words tripping over each other in his haste. "Jenna Wallace. She was brought in, there was an accident. Please, you have to tell me where she is."

The nurse looked at him, her brow furrowed. "Jenna Wallace? When was she admitted?"

Danny ran a shaking hand through his hair, trying to force his scattered thoughts into order. "I...I don't know, an hour ago? Maybe two? She's got dark hair, she's about this tall." He held out a hand, indicating a height just below his chin.

Recognition flickered in the nurse's eyes. Danny's heart leapt into his throat, hope and dread warring in his chest.

"She's in the OR," the nurse said, her voice gentle but firm. "That's all I can tell you right now. If you'd like to wait, I can let the doctor know you're here."

Danny felt the room tilt around him, felt the floor drop out from under his feet. The OR. Surgery. It was bad, then. Really bad.

"Is she going to be okay?" he asked, his voice cracking. "What happened? How bad is it?"

The nurse shook her head, sympathy etched into the lines of her face. "I'm sorry, I don't have any more information. The best thing you can do right now is wait. The doctor will come find you as soon as there's news."

Danny opened his mouth to argue, to demand answers, but Lexi's hand on his arm stopped him. She tugged him gently towards the hard plastic chairs that lined the wall.

"Come on," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. "Let's sit. We'll wait together."

He let her guide him, let her push him down into a chair. His legs felt like jelly, his whole body trembling with adrenaline and fear. Lexi sat beside him, her shoulder brushing his.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

The sounds of the hospital washed over them - the beeping of machines, the squeak of rubber soles on tiles, the low murmur of voices. Danny stared at his hands, at the chipped black polish on his nails. Jenna had done that for him, just a couple of days ago. She'd laughed at his clumsiness, at the way he'd smudged the polish. She'd called him her little emo brother, ruffling his hair like she used to when they were kids.

The memory made his throat tighten, made his eyes sting with tears he refused to let fall. He couldn't cry. Not now. Not until he knew.

"Hey." Lexi's voice was soft, tentative. He felt her hand on his, her fingers lacing through his.

"She's going to be okay, Danny. She's in surgery, right? That means... they're fixing her up, yeah? She's in good hands."

Danny swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. "You..You don't know that. We don't know how bad it is."

"You're right. I don't." Lexi's grip on his hand tightened, her thumb rubbing circles on his skin.

"But I know she's got the best doctors in Manchester working on her right now."

Danny let out a shaky breath, let his head fall back against the wall. He stared up at the ceiling, at the harsh fluorescent lights that made everything look washed out and unreal.

"They're probably just stitching her up, Yeah?" Lexi continued, her voice taking on a forced lightness. "You know, a couple of scratches, maybe a broken bone. She'll be out of here in no time, complaining about the hospital food and bossing you around."

Despite himself, Danny felt his lips twitch, a ghost of a smile. It sounded like Jenna. It sounded like something she would do.

He turned his head, looking at Lexi. She met his gaze, her eyes soft and warm. Without a word, she lifted her arm, inviting him in. He hesitated for a moment, the old instinct to pull away, to protect himself, rising up. But then he let himself sink into her, let his head rest on her shoulder.

Her arm came around him, holding him close. He could feel the steady thump of her heartbeat, could smell the citrusy scent of her shampoo. It was comforting, grounding.

They sat like that, entwined in each other, as the minutes ticked by. Danny tried not to look at the clock, tried not to think about what might be happening behind those closed doors. He focused on Lexi's breathing, on the warmth of her body against his.

He didn't pray. He'd never been much for that, even before his parents died. But he found himself making bargains in his head, promising anything, everything, if only Jenna would be okay.

"Please," he whispered, the word muffled against Lexi's shirt. "Please, let her be okay. I'll do anything. Just let her be okay."

Lexi's arm tightened around him, her cheek resting on the top of his head. She didn't say anything, but he could feel her understanding.

So they waited, clinging to each other in the harsh light of the emergency room. Waited for news, for answers, for a future that had seemed so certain just a few hours ago, but now felt as fragile as spun glass.

They waited.

***