11. Are you breathing what I'm breathing?
("The consequences of falling" - kd lang)
They lie torpidly on the massive leather couch, passion sated for the moment, muscles unwilling to obey to anything other than the occasional gooseflesh on an arm.
Jude is sprawled out on her back, her hipsters unzipped, the top button snapped off in one of the incidents on the way from the kitchen to the lounge. Her cotton shirt is somewhere under a bookcase. India, clad only in a shirt and cradled between Jude and the bank of the couch, rubs her cheek against the lace-covered breast under her cheek lazily as she shifts her bare legs with a wince.
"Hey Jude?"
"Don't you dare," the honeyed drawl comes from above her head. Shifting a little - and enjoying the sudden tightness of the nipple under her cheek - she peeks up at the green eyes peering down at her idly from under heavy lashes.
"I wasn't."
The glow has dispersed, but there is still a faint golden glimmer around India's hands. Rubbing one of them over the silky caramel ribcage she grins a little at the way Jude shifts under her, replete and still enticed all at the same time.
"Mmm." Almost as if in the wake of Jude's contented murmur a trail of gooseflesh rises on her torso. Running her hand up to the stiffened nipples India slides a soft palm over one of them.
"There's a blanket on the chest against the wall."
Her head bounces as Jude chuckles under her. "You're on top, India. No chance in hell I'm the one getting up."
"It was worth a try." With a last fond caress of the nipple - which elicits a soft gasp and a soft playful swat to her shoulder - she rolls over Jude, off the couch, rises to her feet and promptly goes down again. As her head meets the wooden floor Jude is already there, crouching, her expression concerned.
"India?"
She runs her hands under India's shoulders and shifts her up awkwardly into her lap.
"India??"
Blinking owlishly against the light and the dull blow to her head India lets out a surprised laugh.
"I'll have you know this is your fault. My knees used to work fine before you."
Somewhere between concern and wanting to join in the joke, Jude scowls. "You're sure you're okay?"
"Yeah." India rubs at her head. "Between the kind of day I've had, and the kind of night I'm having, it's no wonder."
Leaning over India - and giving her the most wonderful view in the process - Jude plants a kiss on the spot that India is rubbing at.
"You work too hard, then."
"Ditto, Limas." Craning her neck India lifts herself up and dots the valley between the breasts above her with kisses. "Pot, kettle, all that jazz."
Jude closes her eyes briefly against the sensation. "You'd better cut that out before you get into trouble," she warns even as her hands reach out to unbutton the loose shirt and cover the small breasts beneath.
Arching into her touch India sighs. "That's exactly where I want to be."
"Let's play hooky tomorrow and stay right here," Jude murmurs against the pillow in the dead of night. Curled up behind her, India smiles into the warm satin skin of her back.
"Mmmm. Why do you torture me? You know I can't." Running her hand lethargically from Jude's thigh to her side, down over her stomach and barely brushing her breast, India pulls the other woman closer. "Why don't you stay? I'll come home earlier if I know you're waiting for me here. Promise."
"Classic bribery," the journalist mutters, "but I can't, either. I have to go to the studios in LA for a voice-over. And then I have to fly to Florida for an AIDS centre inauguration."
"Skip it."
"Heathen."
India's hand slips down Jude's arm, over her stomach again, down her thigh and around to cup her butt, almost as if she's reminding herself of something. "How long are you going away for?"
Catching the slight hesitation Jude turns around in her embrace and pulls her closer, so close that India feels the puff of the other woman's breath on her forehead. "I won't stay away, India. I'm taking next month off. Will you come to Chapala with me?"
There's a moment of hesitation. "Are you sure?"
"No. Never mind." Jude leans closer, laughing into India's wildly untidy hair. "Silly. Would I have asked otherwise?"
"Maybe you feel sorry for me."
"Sorry? For
you? Are you kidding me?" Running a warm hand up India's side Jude slips a leg between hers, pressing her thigh up against hot and already moistening flesh. "I'm going to walk like a penguin for the next five days, India. If anything, I'm sorry for
me."
India's hand snakes down between them. "I could fix that."
Trapping the roaming limb with her own, Jude pulls it up and rolls over, pinning India beneath her and her hand above her head. "Close, Waits, but no cigar. You're not trying to fix anything. Besides," she leans down for a quick kiss that leaves India breathing heavily and straining for more, "I kind of like the ache. It reminds me."
Lifting her head, trying to reach Jude's mouth, India groans. "What of?"
"This. You." Jude leans in for another kiss, this one all ferocity and fervour. When she pulls back again India moans and rocks her hips against Jude's thigh. Shifting a little Jude pins India down with her greater weight, impeding movement. Brushing her body against India's, skin to skin, she takes India's other hand and pushes it up too.
"Keep them there."
"I want to touch you."
"I won't survive that. Keep them there."
India wants to complain, but then the warm lips are moving, searching, everywhere. Too incoherent for further protest she lays back and lets herself be loved.
Heavy-eyed from too little sleep and heavy-limbed from too much activity they say their goodbyes before they leave India's front door, cautious to be brief. It would not do to awaken their temporarily satiated senses again. Jude brushes her swollen lips across India's mouth, over her cheek, and then she's whispering something that India doesn't quite catch.
"What was that?"
"I'll call you." But that wasn't it. India doesn't mind. She has so much of Jude that one small thing doesn't matter. Besides, it sounded like an endearment, and Jude does not let those roll off her tongue easily.
"I look forward to it."
Jude looks at her as if she is about to fall upon and devour her, and then she stuffs her hands quickly, deeply in the pockets of her jacket.
"Okay. I've got to go."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"Okay." Feeling her body leaning forward India stuffs her own hands into her pockets too, and steps back. "Okay."
"Right." Turning, Jude strides down the hallway. She peers over her shoulder just once, and it's all India can do not to groan at the sight of those heavy-lidded eyes taking her in.
After India's energy has crackled and flowed from her uncontrollably all night, weariness is not far behind. When she lays her hand on the third patient of the morning a wave of nausea rises in her so strongly that she has to clamp down on the urge to vomit. Buzzing Hayley on the intercom she instructs her to reschedule all of the afternoon appointments.
---
She is curled up on the couch, somewhere uncomfortable between an unpleasant dull persistent headache and vivid memories of last night, when her phone rings. Picking it up with a wince she peers at the display - Jude's number.
"Hey you."
"What's wrong?" Jude's voice is low and fretful. "I phoned the office first by mistake. Hayley says you took the day off and you're not well."
"I'm just worn out. Don't worry; please don't worry." India shifts to tuck in the blanket. "Last night took a bit more out of me than I had realized. I don't have much energy today."
"Oh." Jude is moving - the background sounds shift and distort. "I didn't… I didn't realise that it would impact like… Excuse me…" and then she's apologizing to someone in the background for being in their way, "… sorry about that. I didn't realize that it would impact like that. If I had…"
"Then what? Would you have wanted to do anything differently?"
"No. Oh no." Her voice drops furtively. "It was incredible. But maybe we could have taken it a little easier. Slower. Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't know. I…" India closes her eyes against the headache, "Jude, this has never happened to me before."
There is a silence before Jude responds. "Never? You mean…"
"No, I'm not a virgin, but… my body has never responded like this before. It's… " She smiles, "It's completely new to me."
"Hell, me too." The smile is echoed in Jude's voice. "But we have to be careful, then."
"I don't want to be careful with you, Jude. I want to be shaken to the core."
A soft groan slips from Jude's throat before she can contain it. "You need to not say that kind of thing to me when I'm 300 miles away."
"Sorry." India gives a low laugh. "No chance at all of you coming back tonight?"
"Nope." Tight and tense. " I wish I could."
"I want you."
"India…" It's a low warning rumble. "Don't tease me, honey. I have another four hours in an enclosed space with no relief at hand."
"Which begs the obvious comment, but I'll take pity on you. When do I see you again?"
"Three days, and even that's just a vague possibility." Someone calls out to Jude in the distance, and she covers the phone to give two or three quick commands before she comes back on the line. "Two weeks. You. Me. Chapala. I'll call you."
India is listlessly pushing at a file on her desk, cursing the paperwork that comes with the job, when Hayley buzzes her.
"Are you prepared for a walk-in, Miss Waits?"
Eyeing the growing stacks of files India sighs. "Probably not, Hayley. Is it important?"
Hayley is off-line for a moment before she responds. "It's Miss Limas."
Excitement rising in her, India begins to push the files into an untidy stack to one side. "Why didn't you say so in the first place? Send her in."
She stands behind her desk, barely able to control her wide smile, when Jude Limas walks in, looking suave; all made up and coiffed with her tailored chocolate leather jacket.
"Hey you. I wanted it to be a surprise, which is why Hayley didn't tell you it was me. But you had to go and spoil it, didn't you."
India shrugs and points at the files, her attention barely with her actions. "Paperwork."
Jude's gaze takes her in, and then slips to the large window behind her which offers a fantastic view of the city. "Can we draw the blinds?"
"Sure," India finds the remote and presses a button, sending the blinds skittering across the window, "but nobody would really be able to see in, you know."
Jude watches as the room darkens slowly. "It's a chance I don't want to take, India. There's a photographer from some gossip rag who's been following me around for the last few days. The last thing I want is to be featured on some front page."
"You don't think you should be seen with me?" It's said jokingly, but Jude reads the insecurity behind it.
"It's not a personal thing, India." She waits for the windows to be completely covered before she approaches India slowly. "I don't want them in my personal life, that's all. Would you want stolen photos of us plastered everywhere?"
India steps forward into her arms, sighing as she is firmly embraced. "Honestly? I wouldn't care." Reaching up she cups the other woman's cheek. "But I understand."
"Good." Leaning into her touch for a moment Jude smiles at her. "Besides, I
really wouldn't want them to catch me doing this." She lowers her head and captures India's mouth for a sweet long kiss that has them both breathing heavily when they finally separate.
"Okay, I wouldn't want them to have that. Or this." India pulls Jude down for another kiss, exhaling heavily in pleasure when the other woman tightens her embrace and walks them to the couch. Dragging India down with her Jude lies back, pulling the shorter woman on top of her.
What has started as a fairly innocuous kiss is turning rapidly into something far more lustful. Whilst Jude's lips are playing havoc with India's senses, her hands have found the edge of India's shirt and are edging under it and over her skin agonizingly slowly. When she curls her fingers and runs her nails lightly down India's back she is rewarded with a moan which is quickly muffled against her mouth. Deciding to duplicate the motion, she slips her hands down this time, underneath the waistband of India's jeans, and drags her nails over the pliable flesh there.
Another moan that India desperately tries to muffle against her mouth.
Putting her hands on either side of Jude's head, the healer pushes herself up and graces the woman under her with a stern look.
"We can't do this here."
"I beg to differ." Taking advantage of India's lifted torso Jude runs her hands around the narrow ribcage and up to the small breasts, cupping them firmly through the lace bra. Her thumbs shift to rub over the rapidly tightening nipples, and she smiles at the resulting suppressed groan.
Closing her eyes India summons every ounce of willpower she has, and then pushes herself off the warm body and the comfortable couch.
"Jude…"
"Are you sure?" The journalist is laying back, her caramel skin set off beautifully against the camel colour of the couch, her hair slightly mussed. She's watching India from beneath her lowered lashes, one hand rubbing slowly against her stomach where the shirt has ridden up.
Gritting her teeth against her suddenly contracting muscles India walks over to the door and locks it. Then, with another hungry glance at the woman on her couch she summons her assistant on the intercom.
"Hayley, I'm going to take a break. No walk-ins until my next appointment, please."
"Done, Miss Waits."
Turning around India leans back against her massive desk, biting her bottom lip at the sight awaiting her.
Jude blinks innocently, running her hand up under her shirt. "Are you coming back here? Or should I stop?"
India's fingers clench around the edge of the table. "We can't use the couch, Jude. It's where I treat people. I'd never be able to concentrate on my work again…"
"Hmm." Jude's fingers slowly traverse her breast before she sits up and looks around. "Your desk?"
"I…" India swallows nervously when Jude rises like a panther and strides towards her, watching her intently. "I… there are people right outside the door, Jude. We can't …"
Walking around her, the journalist drops into her large chair and sits back, looking around the room. "So this is what it's like to be India Waits?" Her eyes lock onto India again. "Are you going to come over here?"
Noting the glint in the green eyes India shakes her head. "I
want to, Jude, but we really shouldn't. And we don't have the time."
"How long until your next appointment?"
India shrugs. "Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes."
"Mmm." Leaning back, Jude locks her fingers over her stomach contemplatively and sighs. "Okay. I surrender. I'd rather take my time. Tell me about your week?"
"It was boring."
"That's all you can tell me? I need something more interesting, India. You need to distract me from my roaring libido."
"It's the truth. How can it possibly get any more interesting after a beautiful woman mauls me?"
"Mauls?" Jude raises her eyebrows. "I take exception to that."
"It's meant in the best possible way, of course." Wrapping her hands around the arm rests, India fights the urge to resettle in Jude's lap. "It was the same as any other week, with the impressive addition of you. Tell me about your week."
"Well," Jude shrugs, "it was also same old. Except for the part where I did the voice-over and my mind wasn't exactly on my work, so I kept mispronouncing words. Not the best topic for it, either."
"What was the documentary about?"
"The Falkland Islands." Watching India trying unsuccessful to smother a snigger, Jude pulls a forlorn face. "Yes, you get to laugh about it, but now the producer is putting together an outtake section. They've never had so much material to work with. It's going to get ugly."
"People deserve to see that you're human. It's the most attractive part of you."
"Really?"
India swallows as Jude watches her amusedly from under heavy lashes. "One of them." Then, in frustration, she scowls. "Jude. Stop it. You're doing that on purpose."
"Doing what?" The green eyes are glinting, and there is a slight grin curling around the edges of Jude's mouth.
"That!" With a wavering hand India indicates roughly in the other woman's direction. "You know what I'm talking about! The
looking too good and driving me insane with want for you thing!"
A quick smirk flits over the journalist's face, but it is immediately replaced by a sweeter smile. Leaning forward, she props her elbows on the table and rests her face in her hands.
"I'm very glad to hear that."
"What?" India shakes her head in annoyance. "That every time I see you I have to hold onto whatever I can find so that my hands don't find their way onto your body by themselves? That my fingers spark - that my
body sparks - when I even just
think about you? That I start yammering like an idiot when you smile, much like I am now?"
Jude's smile grows and her eyes soften. "No - though that's all delicious to hear. I meant that I'm glad I'm not the only one feeling a bit like an out-of-control hormonal teenager."
"Oh." India can feel her gaze dropping to Jude's lips, and she forces it back up through sheer will.
"Yeah. Oh." Raising her eyebrows exaggeratedly the journalist cocks her head. "Did you really think that I go around randomly pinning people to cars? Or kitchen cabinets? Or dining tables? Or …" She pauses and takes in the blush rising in India's cheeks, and then her inspection turns into a gentle examination of the other woman's features. "I've never felt such a … compulsion for someone before. On the pro side, it's amazing. You're amazing. You do things to me that…" She bites the inside of her lip. "On the con side… I kind of miss our long conversations. That's the side of you that I liked first."
India sits forward and reached for Jude, changing her mind and drawing back her hand at the last moment. "We do still talk. We're talking now."
"Yes, we are." Looking down at the hand resting on the table in front of her, Jude smiles faintly. "But every time you open your mouth I want to climb over this desk and kiss you senseless. That's all I'm thinking about. And you and I both know that you just wanted to touch me, but you can't, because the moment your hands are anywhere on me we'll be very deep in trouble."
India studies her own hand, turning it over so that it lays palm-up between them. "Maybe I should try to... control myself better. My … ability, I mean. It could just be that. Maybe if I could tone it down a notch…"
"It's not something you should feel guilty about, India. Maybe it'll settle down over time and…. ah," Jude gasps sharply as she runs a finger over India's palm and immediately feels a faint pulse of energy answering, "… reach some stability… I'm conflicted about it. On the one hand I don't think we can sustain this level of… " Her voice peters out as another crackle travels up her finger and into her arm, ".. . uh… intensity. It's going to burn us out."
"On the other hand," closing her eyes India tries to control her body's reaction to Jude, "what a lovely way to burn."
With a groan Jude jumps up from her chair and charges around the table. She is met halfway by a body that slams into hers, hands that draw her closer and slide into her hair, her shirt, her neck. Grasping India around her waist Jude lifts her onto the edge of the table and steps in between her thighs hungrily to resume a kiss that is pure fire.
In the midst of fingers roving impatiently and mouths clashing, Jude draws an irregular breath and draws back.
"Time…"
Her voice is ragged. Pulling her head back down with one hand India tears at her shirt buttons with the other.
"Fuck it."
"Hey, it's me."
"Hey you. Hold on a second, will you?" There is a quick muffled discussion in the background, something Jude can't quite make out, and then India is back on the line. "Sorry about that."
"Are you busy? I could call back later."
"No - that was my last patient for the day. I'm all yours."
"I should hope so. It's late, India. Why aren't you at home already?"
"I had a walk-in. Poor woman's just found out she has lung cancer."
"Can you do anything?"
"Not much. It's too advanced already. I could only take away some of the pain."
"Are you okay?"
"It's nothing I haven't seen."
"That doesn't make it better, does it?"
There's silence, and then a quick laugh. "No. Used to be I could just do the work and walk away. Now I have to get emotionally involved." She sighs. "I'm tired."
"I worry about you."
"Then come over and give me TLC."
"If I came over you know you wouldn't be getting TLC."
India gives a warm chuckle and can almost hear Jude smile. "If you came over I wouldn't care."
"One more week. One week."
"I can't wait, Jude."
"Me neither. We both need the break. I know I do."
India smiles into the receiver. "Maybe you're the one who needs TLC."
"I'm not averse to pretending, if that's what gets you here."
"That's not what'll get me there."
"However, a nurse's uniform might not go amiss…" there's a moment of silence, "Can you hold on for a second, India? There's someone at the door."
"Sure." India can hear Jude's footsteps on the carpet, and it seems like the ordinary thing to do to whisper with the rhythm of it:
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you…
"What was that? Did you say something?"
"I was talking to myself. Who was it?"
"Courier with my flight tickets. I'm just signing… Okay. Ecuador, here I come."
"You're such a jetsetter. Exciting."
"Sure. I'm in such a permanent state of jetlag that there'll have to be a GMT+Limas soon."
"I'd like to live in that time zone."
"One week."
"It's going to drag."
"Yes, it is." There's a silence on the other side of the line.
"Jude?"
"I just wanted to tell you…There never seems to be the right time, because the second we're near each other things just … detonate, but I wanted to let you know that you're special to me. It's not all flash bang. You're a blessing."
"Oh" India can feel herself blush, "thank you, Jude. You're…"
I love you.
A sudden commotion comes through clearly on the line, and Jude frowns at the receiver. "Hello? India?"
Something like the screech of metal, and then raised voices in the background.
"India?"
"Jude." India's voice is rushed "Something's going on. I have to go. Speak to you later."
"Okay, I'll…" and then Jude is speaking to a dead line.
The phone only rings twice before Jude picks it up.
"India?" Her tone is concerned.
"Miss Limas, this is Jonathon Mackey. I hope you don't mind my contacting you on your private line - I got the number from Miss Stuart at Miss Waits's office."
"Miss Stuart?" Anxiety is dulling her thought process.
"Hayley Stuart."
"Mr Mackey, what's going on? What's wrong? India…?"
"Miss Limas, you need to get to San Francisco General as soon as possible."
"San… What's going on?"
"Miss Limas, you need to get here
now. There's been an accident."
12. Can't push it underground, can't stop it screaming out
("Time is running out" - Muse)
The press has caught wind. They band together in clusters at the doors, pointing microphones and cameras at every likely entrant. Hospital security has ushered them as far back as possible, warning them that should they block the entrance to emergencies, action will be taken against them. Now they're like an underwater tide, drifting forward and backwards to try and intercept information whilst making sure not to give any cause for trouble.
It's not the thought that they might be locked in a cell that drives them to be cautious, but the knowledge that should they be removed, they will be missing the biggest story of the year.
Usually Jude Limas would have enquired ahead of time about a separate entrance, but tonight she does not care. For once in her life she has used her stature to commandeer a private helicopter, but even so she has been stuck in the air for more than two hours with nothing but her imagination to keep her company, and that has proved to be a very bad thing.
She has tried to contact Jonathon Mackey more than once, and each time his mobile phone switches over to voicemail without fail. She has even contacted the Hospital, but due to their privacy policy they cannot tell her anything over the phone. She is not a next of kin.
When she gets out of the taxi and rushes towards the door the cameras are on her in an instant.
"Jude? Jude!"
Where she would normally have been able to flash her dazzling smile at these guys - almost her kind, if you blur the lines a bit - and get them to step aside, the desperation of getting the best account (one that might make a career) is driving most of them to rashness. Crowding in, they block her entrance. She is a key player in this story, that is clear.
"Jude!"
Where she would normally have been able to flash her dazzling smile at these guys - almost human, if you move the boundaries a bit - and get them to step aside, tonight she doesn't care. She doesn't want to be nice, she doesn't want to be polite, she doesn't want to give them the best sound byte. She wants to be inside those doors.
"Are you a close friend of India's?"
She knows, from a conversation a long time ago, that India resents these people using her first name as if they know her, or as if she is a rock star.
"Get out of my way!" To emphasize her words she pushes against the closest cameraman, but her smaller figure doesn't do much damage. "Move!" Craning her neck she finds the security guards. "Get me in there!"
The burly men immediately step in from where they have been hovering on the edge, unsure of protocol when the harassed is also a part of the pack.
"Move it! Back!"
The mood is teetering on the edge of ugliness. The press hounds know that they can get in real trouble here, but the story seems to lie with the admired Jude Limas, who is about to disappear through the doors.
Their dilemma is quickly solved when one of the security guards wraps his arms loosely around Jude and shoves through towards the doors, using his broad turned back as a battering ram. As the doors open a quick hand grasps Jude's arm tightly.
"Jude! What's happened to India?"
Glaring at the eager face suspended too close to hers Jude snarls, "You call her
Miss Waits, do you hear me?" before the burly guard simply slams his elbow downwards, dislodging the grip and likely breaking the man's wrist.
Later she will thank him for his help and quick thinking. For now, as soon as the doors are closed behind her and his grip eases, she is off towards the reception desk, running as if her life depends on it. She knocks over a bench and careens into a young woman -
"Hey!"
- but barely takes the time to throw a breathless "sorry" over her shoulders. Skidding to a halt at the desk she leans over and fixes sharp wide green eyes on the woman behind the computer.
"Slow down, take a breath. How can I help?" Jude can see it in the woman's lovely grey eyes the moment she looks up and recognises her, but Nurse Finney - so her nametag says - does not shift her expression.
"India Waits. Where is she? What's going on?"
Nurse Finney types in a command and clicks the mouse button a few times, and then lifts the phone.
"Gene, please send down Mr Bartholomew. Miss Limas is here."
She puts down the phone and rises. "Miss Limas, I'm going to ask one of the nurses to take you to a private waiting room. The CEO of San Francisco General, Mister Damon Bartholomew, is on his way to speak to you."
Feeling the iciness clutch at her heart Jude wrings her hands together. "Tell me what's happened."
"Miss Limas, I'm not at liberty to…"
"Screw
at liberty!" Her voice is loud, and when some of the people in the waiting room look around they do comical double takes. "I want to know
now!"
"Miss Limas." Reaching out, Nurse Finney places a cool hand on hers. "I'm not involved in the case. There's nothing I
can tell you. Please, go with Nurse Jameson. Mr Bartholomew will be with you as soon as possible."
Defeated, Jude trails the young blonde nurse down the hallway to a plush private waiting room where she sinks into a soft couch listlessly.
"Mr Bartholomew will be with you shortly."
Looking up, Jude fixes distressed eyes on the young woman. "Do
you know what's happened?"
"I'm sorry." Jameson shakes her head. "I don't. Can I get you a cup of coffee or tea? You look like you need it."
"No thanks."
At that moment the door opens and Jude jumps to her feet as a broad bald man with a hook nose comes in and heads straight for her, offering his hand.
"Miss Limas, I'm Damon Bartholomew…"
Jude ignores his outstretched hand. "Mr Bartholomew, where is India? How is she? What happened?"
Leading a resisting Jude to a couch, Damon Bartholomew pulls her down with him as he sits down.
"Miss Limas, Miss Waits is currently in the OR. Her condition is considered critical. Amongst other things she has suffered cardiac arrest, collapsed lungs, a ruptured spleen, and massive internal bleeding. It's not looking very good, I'm afraid."
Jude opens her mouth and then closes it, choking back a sob. "What happened?"
"At this time reports are sketchy. Let me get you a cup of tea."
"I don't want any."
"You need something for the shock." Getting up with an awkward pat to her hand he proceeds to prepare her a revoltingly sweet cup, which he hands to her and she puts to one side without even looking at it. "According to what we do know, a bus crashed into a sedan on Folsom Street between 1st and 2nd Avenue and flipped …"
Jude stares at him blankly. "India's office is on Folsom."
"Yes." Bartholomew nods. "We know from Miss Waits's assistant that about five minutes after the crash happened - that was at about seven - Miss Waits ran down to the scene of the accident. According to eyewitnesses she went into the wreck and … helped a lot of people. Then she collapsed and fell unconscious. More than that we don't know."
"Did anybody touch her?"
Unnerved by the fire in the green eyes, Bartholomew shakes his head and then shrugs. "I'm not sure. They would have had to, to help her. Is that what you mean?"
"I…" and suddenly Jude is crying. Reaching blindly for the cup of tea she takes a long sip and then tries to put it down, missing the table by inches. Damon Bartholomew takes the cup from her hands and puts it on the table, then offers her a handkerchief.
"Doctor Daniel Marshall will be in as soon as he's available to speak with you. In the meantime, can I suggest that one of the nurses bring you a mild sedative? It might be a few more hours, and I really would suggest…"
"No thank you."
"Miss Limas, it really would be better if you got some …"
"Mister Bartholomew, could you sleep if a member of your family were in critical condition? I want to be awake. If I were to sleep now, I'd have nightmares."
"Okay." Rising, Bartholomew nods. "Understandable. I'll have one of the nurses bring you a blanket."
"Thank you."
And so Jude Limas sees out the night under a blue medicinal-smelling blanket curled up in the corner of an oversized couch.
She must have dozed off, because when the doctor walks through the doors she jerks as if she has been dreaming about falling. Jumping up - and getting her feet tangled in the blanket in the process - she approaches him anxiously.
"Miss Limas. Please sit."
Because she is still a little dazed, and because he looks exhausted, she plods back to the couch and sinks down onto the blanket. He sits down next to her, a tall handsome man with a cleft in his slightly stubbly chin.
"Miss Limas, we've just finished operating on Miss Waits. She's in the Critical Care Unit as we speak - her condition is still critical. At this stage, the greatest concern to us is obviously the cardiac arrest - we only have a very vague idea as to how long her heart stopped as per the eyewitnesses' statements, so at this stage we can't say just yet whether..."
"Brain damage? Is that what you're saying?"
"Perhaps." He shrugs, his tired eyes kind. "We really can't say just yet. Aside from the scans the only thing we can do is wait." Sitting forward, he twists to face her completely. "That aside, Miss Limas, there is another vital matter that I must discuss with you. According to Mr Bartholomew you're Miss Waits's next of kin - is that right?"
"I don't…" Jonathon Mackey. "I assume arrangements have been made, Doctor. India has nobody here but me."
"Okay." He interlaces his hands. "Miss Limas, whilst we were operating on Miss Limas we found some irregularities."
Jude watches him with mute confusion.
"Most of, if not all of her internal organs, have sustained extensive tissue damage, which seems to have occurred before the accident. The other thing is that her bone density is that of a woman twice her age, not unlike the early stages of osteoporosis."
"I…" Looking at him as if his face could provide the answer, Jude frowns. "I don't understand."
"Quite frankly, neither do we, yet." He shrugs helplessly. "It looks like a degenerative disease, but it's like nothing I've ever seen before."
"Cancer?"
"Not likely… but not completely out of the question," he concedes. "We've sent monsters of Miss Waits's blood to the lab, but until the results come back I'm afraid I won't be able to answer any of your questions."
"Okay." Nodding dumbly Jude looks away, and then at Doctor Marshall. "What could have caused it?"
"Well," Daniel Marshall thinks carefully before formulating his answer, "it's all conjecture, you must understand… "
"Would she have been in pain?"
"Some. Nausea, cramps, palpitations, dizziness, and then a myriad more."
"Things that you could, perhaps, miss if you were under severe stress?"
"Maybe." But the way he shakes his head says the opposite. "I'm not sure. We'll have to wait for the test results." He moves to get up, but Jude leans forward and clasps his hand.
"Doctor Marshall, did India know?"
"Well, I really couldn't…"
"In your opinion."
"Yes." He holds her gaze. "There are many reasons why people choose to keep this sort of information to themselves, Miss Limas. It won't do to dwell on it now. Your thoughts are needed elsewhere."
"Can I see her?"
"I'm sorry. Not yet. She's at a very sensitive stage right now. But I'll keep you updated." Standing, he pats her arm softly. "Keep positive."
A day later, perhaps. The light in the waiting room is deceptive, and she has not gone out. She sits blankly, wrapped in the blanket, running through their last conversation, looking for consolation. Looking for answers.
At some stage the nurse brings in Hayley Stuart. The young woman stands, ill at ease, the angles of her limbs shouting discomfort.
"How is she?"
"She's still on life support. No change." Brushing a weary hand through her hair Jude sits up. "What happened, Hayley?"
"I… We heard the crash from the offices. Miss Waits immediately took off downstairs. I stayed to phone the emergency services. When I got there she was already gone. Into the bus, I mean. She was in there for about 20 minutes, and then one of the guys came out with her. She'd… she'd collapsed. I don't know…"
Indicating that Hayley sit down on the couch next to her, Jude bites the inside of her lip. "I just don't understand."
"I… I knew she'd been tired. I shouldn't have… "
Laying a hand on the distressed girl's shoulder, Jude tried to soothe her. "Hayley, you know as well as I do that she doesn't listen to reason."
"But I should have…" and then Hayley is crying so hard that she shakes. Shifting closer Jude wraps her arms around the other woman and begins to rock her, and it is in that embrace, where she does not have to pretend, that she starts to cry herself.
"Hey Jude…"
"Don't you dare, India."
"Oh, don't make it bad."
"I knew it!"
She is bleary-eyed and disorientated when Doctor Marshall touches her shoulder.
"Miss Limas?"
"Mmm." Her breath catches like a sob and she sits up suddenly, almost hitting her head against his in the process. "India?"
"Miss Limas. I have news."
"Is she…?"
"Miss Waits's condition is still the same, Miss Limas." He crouches down to her level and rests his elbow on his knees. "We got some test results back. The MRI seems to indicate no brain damage. Of course, we can't confirm anything until Miss Waits regains consciousness, but it is a good start. Then, the blood tests." He lifts his shoulders slightly. "We haven't been able to identify the disease - my colleagues and I are at a loss. This is nothing we've seen before. We're flying in Professor Lange from New York tomorrow morning - he's done extensive studies into certain degenerative diseases. If anyone has an answer for us, he will." Briefly patting her hand comfortingly, he continues. "What's important to know at this time is that whatever disease this is, it appears to be in remission. The dead tissue is damaged beyond repair, but there doesn't seem to be any further activity."
"Okay. That's good." Rubbing at her forehead tiredly Jude peers up at Marshall. "How does this impact her in the future?"
Shifting slightly he sighs. "'Well, of course I can't make any definite diagnoses, but precedent tells me that as long as the disease stays in remission, Miss Waits will be able to continue as normal, provided that she's careful about her stress triggers."
"That's hardly likely." Thinking of India prickly and obstinate works better than thinking of her pale and dead. "And if it doesn't stay in remission?"
"Not knowing how fast this spreads, I'm at a loss to offer an accurate time frame, Miss Limas, but she can't afford much more damage."
Biting down on her trembling bottom lip Jude swallows. "How much more can go wrong?"
"I don't know."
Smiling into his kind eyes tremulously she nods. "It was rhetorical, but thank you. Can I see her yet?"
"Yes." Rising, he dusts off his knees pointlessly. "Though, honestly, I think you should reconsider. It can be very disturbing to see a loved one in this state."
"The fact can't be much worse than my imagination is making it, doctor." Pushing the blanket off her legs she rises and stretches, and then bends to slip on her shoes.
The CCU is two floors up. Jude has to slip into scrubs before she can enter the pristine area, and even then the doctor only takes her as far as the window flanking India's room.
"Take your time."
She's left looking through a giant square of thick glass, giving her the distinct feeling that she is watching a hi-tech hospital show and the character on the other side will be waking up and declaring herself perfectly fine any moment now.
It doesn't seem likely.
India Waits is heartbreakingly small in the middle of the bed, her pale skin almost blending in with the white sheets under and over her. Around her a legion of machines stands guard, each emitting its signature sound, and it seems to Jude that India is connected to each of these by a tube of some kind. Her chest is rising and falling in the artificial rhythm of the ventilator, and it reminds Jude of how India really breathes - how she snaps in puffs of air quickly as if she's afraid or aroused or preparing for something terrifying.
Or maybe as if her lungs are damaged and scarred on the inside.
Leaning her forehead against the glass Jude stares at India's face - the dark lash crescents on her pallid cheeks, the way her hair sticks up in the crown at her fringe as if it still refuses to be controlled.
Skimming the sight of India's lips wrapped and taped around the tube Jude studies her hands, lying curled in and vulnerably at her side. Even when India has been at her most unforthcoming, those hands have remained restless; flexing and closing at random, fingers rubbing over the palm, thumbs rubbing over the fingertips.
It is as if India can be condensed, in her purest form, to only her hands and her eyes.
Jude lays her palm flat on the glass for a moment and then turns away to search out Doctor Marshall.
"Thank you," she says evenly. "I think I'm going to go for a walk."
"Can we reschedule that for … Oh, I don't know when, Chi. I don't know if … Can we do it in a month?"
"I will find out what their cut-off date is." Jude can hear Kaneko Bachiko paging through her diary.
"All right. Do you want me to cancel what can be cancelled?"
"Yes please. I'm just not in the best state of mind right now."
"You need no excuse, Jude. I will do so." Chi's vowels are round and beautiful, as a non-native English speaker would pronounce them
. "Call me if you need anything. I will be in contact."
"Thank you, Chi."
"Take care of yourself, please. Goodbye."
When she turns around, slipping her phone into a pocket (its nervous
beepbeepbeep is reminding her that she does not have her battery charger with her), Doctor Marshall is just stepping into the room.
"Doctor?" She walks closer, slowly, careful not to let the anticipation seep through.
"I have good news." When he smiles the crows' feet at the edges of his eyes crinkle. "Miss Waits is breathing on her own. We have been keeping her under careful observation, and feel that we can safely remove the ventilator."
She exhales a breath that she has been holding forever. "That's great."
"It is. But apart from that," he cocks his head, "we also feel that it is safe for you to visit with her for a short amount of time."
Jude is almost loath to touch the small hand curled in on itself. Taking a deep breath she reaches out and brushes the tips of her fingers across the cold palm, and then jerks away. The nurse who has been checking India's IV is instantly at her side.
"Are you okay, Miss Limas?"
"Yes. Thank you." Offering her a smile that she hopes is reassuring, Jude looks down at the small woman in front of her. "She's so cold. I got a fright."
The nurse nods understandingly. "It's disconcerting, I'm sure."
More than disconcerting. India's hands have never been cold, even when the rest of her is. Perhaps it has to do with the energy running through them. Besides, this is not what has startled Jude, but she only nods at the words meant to be kind and reaches out again.
"India? It's time to wake up, honey. I …" and this time her reaction is more pronounced. Pulling away her hands she stares down at India, and then up at the puzzled nurse. "You might want to fetch Doctor Marshall. She's coming back."
The nurse's smile remains kind. "It's good to remain positive, Miss Limas, but…"
"I feel it."
"Comatose patients sometimes have involuntary muscle twitches… "
"That's not what I'm talking about." Laying her fingertips in the palm of India's hand, Jude closes her eyes and feels euphoria building in her like a wave as a familiar heat begins to form under her touch.
The nurse must have become worried, for Doctor Marshall is suddenly at her side. Touching her shoulder tentatively to get her attention he studies her quizzically. "Miss Limas? Nurse Chapman said you had something you wished to discuss with me?"
She keeps her eyes closed, allowing the faint glow to seep into her tired bones. "She's going to come to soon."
Walking around to the other side of the bed Doctor Marshall studies all of the monitors. "Her vital signs are stable, Miss Limas, but I'm afraid there's no sign of…"
"Nothing that you can see."
"Miss Limas. How long is it since you've slept properly? You should…"
Right in the middle of his sentence he looks down and the words just peter out into a static silence. India Waits is staring up at him. Her large brown eyes are dull and bloodshot, but she is very much awake.
"I thought I'd died."
Jude strokes the thick long fringe away from India's forehead gently, her eyes tracking the pale features. "I was scared."
Turning her face into the warmth of Jude's hand, India sighs. "Me too. For the first time I had something to stay for."
A sound somewhere between a soft gasp and a sob escapes Jude's lips, but when India looks up, concerned, she already seems to have regained her composure. India traces the line of the stubborn jaw, the proud nose and the delicate cheekbones above her with her gaze before she closes her eyes tiredly.
"I heard mermaids again."
She is smiling faintly. Jude runs one finger briefly over her bottom lip before pulling her hand away abruptly. "It's Lake Chapala calling you."
One brown eye peers up at her tiredly. "I'm ready to answer that call."
"You've only been conscious for a week, honey. Don't get gung-ho on me."
"I'm sick of this place."
"You're sick, full stop." Jude runs her fingers gently through India's fringe again. "Chapala will wait." She strokes India's forehead with the back of her fingers for a moment before sitting down and leaning back in the uncomfortable armchair.
A faint frowns creases India's forehead, though she doesn't open her eyes. "Jude?"
"Hmmm?"
"What's up?"
"Nothing." When India suddenly fixes blunt brown eyes on her she shrugs. "I'm tired. I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking that if I closed my eyes you'd drift away."
"I'm here. Why don't you go to my apartment and get some rest? Feed the cat?"
Jude raises an eyebrow. "You don't have a cat."
"More time to sleep, then. That works out well."
Offering a half-smile, Jude stands up. "India…"
The smaller woman's expression becomes cautious. "You have that tone in your voice."
Jude frowns. "What tone?"
"The one that you get on television when you're getting ready to tear someone's defences to pieces.
That tone."
"I do not."
"Do too." Scratching lightly at the site where the IV needle enters her skin - and getting a smack for it - India peers up at Jude. "You're making me nervous, Jude. Whatever you want to say, just say it. Please?"
"Doctor Marshall told me that when you were in the operating room they found irregularities. Your organs had been damaged a while ago, and your bone density isn't what it should be - they're not sure..."
India is motionless. "He didn't say anything to me."
"I asked if I could speak to you first." Wrapping warm fingers around the slightly cool hand resting on the sheet, Jude studies India worriedly. "I hope you don't mind."
"I'm just a little confused."
"Doctor Marshall said it's like a degenerative disease, but nothing they know. It seems to be in remission, but according to him you should have been feeling the effects for a while now."
There is a moment of off-balance silence, and then Jude cocks her head.
"You don't seem surprised, India."
"I always knew something would get me in the end."
"Excuse me?"
Turning her hand upwards so that she can grasp Jude's, India takes as deep a breath as she can manage. "I could feel it. Yes."
"And…" Puzzlement colours Jude's words. "You never said anything."
"No. I had some idea of what was happening."
Suddenly beyond exasperation, Jude shakes the hand in hers roughly. "India! You're killing me here! Can we dispense with the mystery and get to the facts, please?"
"Okay." It's almost a whisper, almost a murmur, and the resignation in it is enough to send chills down Jude's spine. Looking up at her, India closes her eyes. Perhaps she is tired. Perhaps she is hiding. "When I heal people, where do you think the energy comes from, Jude?"
The question unnerves the other woman. Furrowing her brows, she thinks for a moment. "I'm no expert, but aren't we supposed to be surrounded by it? The universe, or whatever you want to call it?"
"The universe." India smiles with amusement but no sting. "That would have been logical and linear, and it would have been nice, but no."
Awareness dawns in Jude's expression like a sunrise. "You…" She steps away, apparently oblivious of their hands pulling apart. "You're … using yourself?"
"Something like that." Pulling back her abandoned hand India reaches up to scratch her nose, and then thinks better of it when the pain ripples up just under the surface of the morphine. She wishes she could pull Jude closer. "It's like doing exercise. The more energy you expend, the more fat cells you burn. Except… in my case I'm just burning up cells."
Jude turns wide hurt eyes on her. "You knew about this all along."
"Not exactly. I didn't know what… "
"Don't hide behind words, India." Jude steps back, her eyes still on India, and sits down heavily on the edge of the chair. "You knew you were hurting yourself, and you just kept going. Like slow suicide, right?"
"Jude…" Beseechingly India reaches out a hand. "It didn't matter. Maybe at first I …"
"You didn't want to do it." The hurt edge has disappeared from Jude's voice, to be replaced by something more disbelieving. "You never wanted to - was this why?" She doesn't give India a change to reply, but simply continues as if she is talking to herself. "That was it. You knew what would happen to you, but we made you do it.
I made you."
There is such a profound ache in Jude's words that India's eyes involuntarily fill with tears. "Sweetheart, please - don't."
"Don't what?" A bitter little laugh escapes Jude's lips. "All that time I thought I was the virtuous one. I thought I was right - like always - and meanwhile I never stop to consider anyone else."
"Jude. Dearheart. I made my own choices."
"I never stopped pushing you." Pressing against her eyes tiredly with the pads of her thumb and index finger Jude sighs. "I thought I knew what was best for you. I couldn't see past my own agenda."
"Jude… "
"Can you reverse it?"
"No." The journalist opens her mouth and India interrupts her quickly. "Jude.
Stop. I'm here. I'm still here."
"You're
here." Looking around her, Jude takes in the sterile white walls, the beeping machines and monitors. "I put you here just as much as anybody else."
"You didn't
know!"
"No, but you did," Jude smiles humourlessly, "and I made you feel as if you had to ignore that. As if you had to live up to my expectations by sacrificing yourself." Shaking her head at herself she turns around and lifts her jacket from where it is draped over the back of the chair.
Suddenly anxious, India plucks at the seam of the sheet draped over her with clumsy fingers. "Jude? Don't leave me."
Jude's brown eyes fix on her with a fierce concentration, and then the other woman smiles abruptly before she turns and walks away. "I'll be back, honey."
"It's my fault. I never told you."
Pausing at the door, her back stiff against the words, Jude drops her head forward in defeat. "I'm no better than Paul Ashe. I judged him for how he'd behaved, and I'm no better."
"No. Jude…" Worry seeps through India's voice in breathless bursts. "I should have said something."
The journalist looks over her shoulder, her green eyes suddenly fierce. "Yes. You could have. Or maybe I shouldn't have let my own demons blind me. Either way, it's should and could, and I'm not sure what to do with those. I'm not sure what to do." A sigh lifts her narrow back, and then she is looking away. "I need to take a walk."
Continued...