December 25, 2026
Emergency Room - London
??? POV
"Stand clear." A voice from off to his side shouted, prompting him to nearly throw himself off the patient. "Shocking."
The sound of the electric charge was audible; it always was. "Resume compressions."
In his mind, he counted. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6... 30. Then he stopped, waiting, observing for some form of improvement.
"Bag him!" A doctor shouted, ignoring the fact that the staff holding the bag were already going through the motions.
"We got it back!" The medication nurse to his right spoke in a calm voice, effectively silencing the room as she looked at the ECG monitor's screen.
His chest heaved, letting out a breath he'd unknowingly held, the sweat from his forehead running down his face as he took in a few more breaths to calm his beating heart before getting off the bed again.
This was the norm in the emergency room.
Tiring? Yes.
Stressful? Most definitely.
But it certainly felt more fulfilling than those days he'd worked in the general ward during his college years.
'Unfortunately, not every case survives.' He glanced back at bed 5, where the family of the small child lying lifelessly on the bed mourned their loss.
It was unfortunate, really; losing a loved one on Christmas of all days, only to then watch the same killer get pulled back from death on the opposite side of the same place.
He'd felt guilt over the death, but he'd seen it one too many times already. Still, he wasn't above showing sympathy for the family, all except the father, now that he knew how it all happened.
It was a motor-vehicle accident, drunk driver, careless father. What kind of father lets his son out in the yard while getting drunk inside the house? A careless one, that was for sure.
"So, I'm guessing you're from the Philippines too?" The medication nurse asked, not in a questioning tone; rather, it felt more like a formality, as if she already knew.
"What gave it away?" He asked, pulling off the gloves that had clung tightly to his hands and throwing them in the clinical waste bin. It was routine at this point: gloves on, use, gloves off, repeat. A practiced movement that didn't require thought.
"Just a feeling. At this point, every ward in this hospital has to have a Filipino nurse... Lucas. Huh, sounds too Western to be a Filipino name though." She joked, looking at the wall clock as each second ticked by. "Where you from?"
"I'm keeping that a secret." He snorted, quickly putting on a new set of gloves he'd taken from the wall-mounted box and moved closer to the man coming from the child's room. "Get Jim in here."
"It was him, wasn't it? He killed my kid?!" Another man shouted, his voice echoing throughout the emergency room as patients and healthcare staff alike stared at him with a mix of curiosity and pity.
"Sir, hold on, please," Lucas asked, trying to hold him back from even approaching the recently revived patient as more staff came to his aid. "I understand that you're mad, sir, but don't do this."
He was strong, or maybe Lucas was simply tired. 8-hour shifts were never easy; leaving at the right time without your back or legs aching would be a greater miracle at this point than Moses parting the sea.
"Get your hands off me, to hell with your understanding!" He shouted, aggressively pushing away the other staff as some fell while others nearly tripped. "You'd save a murderer but let my innocent kid die? What kind of nurse are you?!"
"We will have to restrain you if you don't calm down, sir, please. Your family needs you right now." Lucas told him, hearing the incoming footsteps of the security guards rush closer as he felt the man's beefy hands dig into his shoulder before he threw him aside.
Even Lucas had been surprised at how the man had thrown him. Lucas wasn't heavy or tall, but he kept his fitness up as well as a man could with just two dumbbells he'd randomly bought in the past.
The distance wasn't far, but the landing hadn't been great, and it had felt like his ankle was burning when he tried to stand up. In the end, though, that throw had given the man enough leeway to have a clear path to bed 12, the same one where the truck driver was lying.
He never made it to the door before he got tackled to the ground. Jim, the man, the myth, the legend, was probably the best guard ever assigned to the emergency room.
The man could tackle a cow and make it moo into submission with one hand, and enough grease, or at least that was what he'd told Lucas and the others one time when the department went out for drinks; he never did tell them why grease was a requirement.
More cops followed soon after, probably there to watch over the driver and make sure he wouldn't escape from the hospital after waking up.
"Nice tackle." Lucas groaned, rubbing his shoulders as he moved closer to the pair with one foot raised to prevent putting pressure on his injured foot. Jim had subdued the man and was making him stand up to escort him out of the emergency room while the other cops stood outside the driver's room.
"You okay?" He asked, prompting Lucas to nod in his direction while still wincing from the pain.
"You wouldn't have gotten thrown off if you'd done more than just lift dumbbells, you know." Jim joked. "I almost forgot, Marge was wondering if you'd like to join us for dinner? I'm sure the kids wouldn't mind having a guest for Christmas either."
"Nah, I'm pretty sure I deserve a good night's sleep after today." Lucas replied, stretching his arms as Jim audibly snorted before he left the emergency room with the child's father. A light tap on his shoulder made him turn, calling his attention to who stood behind him.
"I'm sorry about my husband..." The woman who'd revealed herself to be the man's wife apologized, her voice still shaky as tears streamed down her face. "He... He's a good man; please don't put what he'd done against him..."
"Of course, ma'am. I understand." Lucas replied in a gentle voice. At this point, aggressive patients or aggressive family members were simply a daily occurrence now, and so he'd grown used to encountering patients like them. "Is there anything I could do to help?"
"No... thank you for asking, and again, I'm really sorry." She slipped back to the room, sitting on a chair beside the bed where her child's body had been.
Honestly, she reminded him a lot of his own mother. Thinner, yes, but there was a subtle physical resemblance.
"You ok?" The medication nurse asked, still glancing at the clock as each second ticked closer to 10 pm, which, coincidentally, was the end of their shift.
"I'm fine," Lucas replied, looking around the emergency room as the next shift's nurses were settling in to receive their handovers for the remaining patients. "Guess it really is a Christmas miracle; who'd have thought I'd get to go home on time."
"Careful, you wouldn't want to jinx them." The medication nurse joked, watching the incoming nurses glance at them with wary smirks before turning their attention back to their handovers while he hobbled back to the staff room. "Hey, where you headed? Don't you want to get that looked at? You haven't given your handovers yet either."
"I have none, remember? Already got all my patients transferred out." Lucas replied, just quiet enough to make sure the child's family wouldn't hear the first half of what he had to say. "Plus, that driver's yours, not mine."
"Tch, lucky bastard." She snorted before sighing and putting away the emergency cart off to the side as another nurse made their way to her to receive endorsement.
'Lucky... hm.' The thin lines of a smirk formed on the side of his lips as he packed up the stuff he'd brought with him to work, making sure he wouldn't accidentally leave behind his belongings again for the umpteenth time.
He was more than glad to have left his shift on time, but... there was an emptiness that followed when one realized no one was at home waiting for their return.
He waved goodbye to the rest of the staff, spending only a few seconds to look before they turned their focus back on their endorsements. He reached the open doors leading to the emergency room entrance. The cold air of Christmas night filtered in and mixed with the treated air the hospital's vents circulated.
He was just about to leave when he felt another tap on his shoulder, the second one today, prompting him to turn back and see who it was. It was Jim, his chest heaving as he held a small gift box with a hand outstretched to Lucas.
"Merry Christmas, mate. The offer still stands, okay?" He greeted him with a smile, a hand patting Lucas' shoulder as he reminded him of his offer. For a moment, Lucas had almost even thought of saying yes as he took and looked at the simple wrapping of the gift, but he couldn't do that to Jim.
As kind as the man was, Lucas didn't want to intrude on a family event such as Christmas.
"Thanks, Jim, really, I'm grateful for the gift." Lucas thanked him, unease on his face as he was reminded that he hadn't actually bought anything for Jim. It wasn't that he didn't want to; it was more like he simply hadn't expected to receive a gift from work of all places.
"Don't worry about the gift, okay? Just treat me to dinner sometimes." Jim joked after he'd noticed Lucas' expression, his hand leaving Lucas' shoulder as he waved him off with a grin.
"It's a date then. Just make sure your wife doesn't find out, or she'll kill me." Lucas joked; he'd met Marge during a department outing. All he could say was that those two certainly were meant for each other in more ways than one; no one but Marge could handle Jim's giddy energy.
'Toy soldiers, maybe? Do kids still play with Hot Wheels?' Lucas was already thinking of a return gift. If Jim didn't want a gift, then he could at least give something to his children, right?
The air was cold, freezing even as Lucas' body shivered while regret about being too lazy to go back for a coat after he'd left his apartment earlier that afternoon filled his mind. Sure, he'd been working in London for almost 2 years now, but his body hadn't acclimated just yet.
Part of him still thought about walking to his apartment if only to save money; his apartment was only two blocks away from here, and he'd walked farther than that when he was just a college student.
'Just this once.' A Christmas gift to celebrate the holidays, and so he wouldn't have to hobble like an idiot to his apartment. It was when his thoughts were elsewhere that he'd accidentally put pressure on his bad foot.
He hissed at the feeling, his mind focused on the radiating pain that had distracted his senses. It was enough.
The distraction had been enough for a silver-colored sedan to just suddenly veer off the road and rush its way to him. The lights revealed the incoming car to Lucas, but that split second between noticing and reacting simply wasn't enough as the car rammed into him.
Each second seemed to stretch to a minute; his mind flooded with everything he'd done from the moment he had woken up today to this very moment.
All the little bits he thought he'd have time to do later when he got home, the call to his parents that he'd chosen to delay until after his shift.
They'd probably be awake by now. He'd never get to make the call.
The cold metal struck him, throwing him onto the hood of the car and cracking the windshield before he was tossed onto the old pavement.
'Was it the dad?' That had been the first thought in his mind, but the man being dragged out of the car was completely unknown to him.
'That's... a stupid bit of irony, isn't it?' Lucas felt his mind turn numb to the pain; his beating heart slowly growing weaker and weaker each second. He'd saved a drunk driver minutes earlier only to get killed by another drunk driver if that glinting bottle outside the car was anything to go by.
He'd helped many patients survive motor-vehicle accidents; he supposed he was one of the unlucky ones.
His eyes went to the side, the gift box slightly mangled from the impact, as he saw Jim and a few other staff running toward where he lay.
'Damn... would've liked to see what Jim got me.' The shadow of a smirk formed fully on his face this time as he slowly and gently closed his eyes.
The cold Christmas night embraced his body, but, oddly enough, it felt warm as his life slowly seeped out and faded.
On that same day, but a different year and in a different world, a child with the same name would be left in the care of Jeanne Bonham, the last heir and descendant of the main Bonham line.
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