Coincidences: #3 Diana & Anya

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  Anya stood with her feet carefully planted, fingers on one hand managing to work the snap on her jeans. A long sigh of relief filled the small tiled room, her wince unseen as she struggled to pull the jeans into place.

  Ian heard the grumble and decided to risk the explosion, pushing the door open and walking to help her. “Hard to do with one hand…broke my wrist one time when I was a kid…you get real grateful for elastic after the first try at zippers and snaps.” He ignored the dainty girl briefs, tugged the jeans over her hips and quickly fastened them. “Come on…back to the bed. I think they’re bringing dinner.”

  “Why did you come to the festival?” Anya ground her teeth together, eyes closed as she slid back onto the bed.

  “I saw a flyer for the dancers,” he answered honestly. “I recognized you.” He perched on the window ledge, hands holding to the cold tile. “I wanted to see you. I needed to talk to you.”

  “To yell at me for disappearing,” she added after a long minute.

  “That, too,” he admitted slowly. “But now isn’t the time. You need rest and some food…which just happens to be arriving now.”

  Anya watched him accept the tray of food. He hadn’t changed much. Tall and lanky; longish pale hair and light brown eyes. He still wore the old style round glasses, a simple open button down shirt and jeans beneath the long doctor’s coat. He slowly wound the bed to an upright position, very aware of the closed eyes and steady breathing as she worked to adjust to the movements.

  “Alright?” Ian asked quietly, gliding the food tray over the bed. “Do you want some help?”

  “No…I am fine, thank you,” Anya just lay quiet for a few minutes, opening her eyes to find him studying her. “You are not going to leave.”

  “You’re my patient.”

  “I am sure you have others,” she said as she shook the small container of juice and aimed the straw for the foil. The straw slipped across the foil to land on the blanket. The second time, she put the small juice cup in her left hand, bound tightly in a sling, and stabbed viciously with the straw. It went through the foil with a snap.

  “I’m off duty for the night. You were always stubborn,” Ian commented, lifting lids and arranging things to help a one handed person.

  “I am me,” was her response. “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome. You used to drive Will mad,” he recalled softly, watching her movement freeze in place for a moment. “I remember him coming back from runs, telling us about the lady doctor that shouted and threatened both sides if anything happened to her children.”

  Anya chewed quietly, staring into the evening sunlight. The hospital she worked at had been next to a child care center. Bombs, she thought, bombs and shooting. Frightened, terrified children…and adults. She met William Miller on an ambulance run from one of the nearby bombings.

  “Will believed they could change…the world could change,” she whispered painfully. “So damned optimistic…”

  “There’s nothing wrong with believing, Anya,” Ian said softly.

  “Only people who were not raised in it could possibly believe.”

  “The rest of us didn’t believe him…when he came back after a three day pass and told us he’d gotten married,” Ian recalled the day, his friend beaming and wearing a wedding ring. They hadn’t met Anya yet. It had been barely three months since he’d begun talking about the beautiful lady doctor in the next village to the west.

  “He wanted to shout to the world,” she recalled in an amazed whisper. “He wrote his parents and told all his friends over and over…” Anya felt her fingers shaking and laid the fork down, her head back and eyes closed. "Why are you doing this to me?"

  “He’s dead, Anya, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t exist. He was my friend, and I thought you and I had become friends, too,” Ian turned and left the room before they ended up in another argument.

  Anya continued to pick at the food before her, tears flowing down her cheeks that brought an occasional angry swipe. Only in her dreams had she permitted herself to think of Will. Only where she felt safe.

  It was an hour later when Jane and Damian pushed the door slowly inward. “Anya?”

  “I am awake,” she answered, turning to meet the worried dark eyes of her new friend. “Are you alright? The crazy person with the gun…”

  “Hauled off to jail,” Jane answered, sinking into the chair Damian pulled to the side of the bed. “That was a killer swing you have with that bottle.”

  “Old waitress trick for clearing brawls,” Anya offered with a weak chuckle.

  “Anya, I am so sorry…”

  “Jane, this is not your fault,” Anya, pushed her hand on the bed, trying to shift a little to the side. “No, I am okay. Honestly. I will be released tomorrow, I am sure and will be good as new in no time.”

  “It is my fault because he was looking for me,” Jane continued firmly.

  “It is not and if you argue with me…please…I have had enough of arguing for one day. No matter how hard we try, we cannot change the idiots in the world,” Anya heard her words and frowned slightly. “And we…we cannot always avoid them when they bring their battles to us. I should have struck a little more to the left…and he would have missed,” she said with a teasing wink. “Please…go home with Damian and relax. We can be glad the fool is locked up, true?”

  “I’ll talk to you again, Anya. And if you need anything, you let me know, alright?” Jane hesitated slightly before leaning over and hugging her carefully. “We never did get to talk about the costume shop. Are you still interested?”

  Anya paused thoughtfully. It had been a very long time since she found peace of mind. Even longer since she was hugged simply because.

  “Yes…yes, I am…I love designing…”

  “We’ll be in touch, Anya,” Jane promised on her way out.

  Ian found her still toying with the food ten minutes later, his sigh exaggerated when he pulled the chair to the side of the bed and sat down. He took the fork from her, scooped up some of the roast turkey and held it out to her. “Open.”

  “I…” Anya blinked and found herself chewing. Dark eyes flared with stubborn, childish anger.

  “You can’t get well without food, Anya. Open,” he ordered brusquely, a crooked grin on his face when she complied. “Good girl. So where are you living these days? I’ll swing by and get some clean clothes for you.”

  It didn’t surprise Ian that all of a sudden she was looking at everything and anything but him.

  “I saw your friends leaving. I like them. They’re…tenacious,” he said after searching for just the right word. “It’s not so bad having friends, you know,” he finished off the main course and moved onto the pudding.

  “Alright! Enough!” Anya pushed his palm away, glaring at him when the pudding went to his own mouth. She found it very difficult to keep from laughing. She could see amusement in his eyes. Teasing, soft eyes that had seen just as much hatred and death as she had.

  “Well…you did eat most of it,” Ian handed the tray to a young woman who came in just at the right time. “Let me take a wild guess here…you’re living in a van again, aren’t you?” He demanded in stark disbelief.

  “You are missing the point,” she said, dark eyes narrowed. “Where or how I live is none of your concern.”

  “Well…there you’re wrong. I’m making it my concern. Tut-tut…don’t thank me,” Ian waved a hand when her mouth opened. “I made a promise and I now see how important that promise was…” He saw her mouth snap shut. She knew.

  “Please go.”

  “You’re no longer monitored so I won’t get in trouble when your blood pressure goes up a little,” he took her face in his hand. “I made a promise to take care of you. I’m a little late…since you ran off…”

  “I did not run off! I was escaping! Escaping the…the hurt…the pain…then you were holding me…and the next thing I know, I am kissing you!” Anya’s good hand flew into the air, her language suddenly shifti
ng and erratic. “Kissing you while…while…Will…”

  Ian fall back into the chair, listening and catching half of the words.

  “That…that is why you ran, Anya? Because…for god sake! We’d both just lost someone we cared about a great deal! We both just watched Will die! I held you while you cried your eyes out!” He recalled with a ragged, pain filled voice. “I didn’t think you’d ever stop crying or shaking! That kiss…it was the rampant adrenaline! It was…sadness and need to be comforted and…and grief…not betrayal or disloyalty!”

  Anya shoved the blankets aside, pushing her legs to the edge and letting them fall to the floor, her palm up to stop him when he rose from the chair.

  “No. I will do this alone,” she carefully placed one foot in front of the other, walking slowly into the bathroom and closing the door firmly.

  She threw the faucet full open, leaning heavily on one elbow and drenching her face, shaking fingers damp and running through her hair. She finished and lifted her jeans from the floor, draping them over her arm and walking with a little more stability back into the room.

  A silent prayer went up when she noticed she was alone. Jeans were dropped to the chair before she eased herself back onto the bed, wincing and cursing at the pain in her shoulder. She turned onto her good side and lay staring out the window for a very long time.

  It was as if it just happened. Will had drawn his last breath. She sat on her knees on the ground next to him. Hands covered with blood went to her face, covering lips that wouldn’t stop quivering, her head shaking in denial. Then Ian was on the ground next to her, holding her, patting her back, stroking her head. She vaguely recalled him whispering, trying to offer condolences where the heart would find none.

  She couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop the tears, the sorrow. She remembered looking up, her head shaking even as their mouths found one another in their grief. Hot, searing and rampant with an unvoiced need.

  And then she ran.

  Anya struggled to sit up, struggled to draw in a breath when the door to the room burst inward. She felt her shoulders gripped, pain coursing through her and a soft curse next to her ear.

  “Anya! Wake up!” Ian shook her sharply, releasing her bandaged shoulder and gripping her chin, forcing her eyes to his. “Look at me! Look…at…me…Anya!”

  “Ian!” the word came out at the same time oxygen finally broke into her lungs. She shook and fell into the arms held open for her, her good palm at his waist. “Oh god…it was all there! All there all over again!” Came the whisper filled with pain. “I…the nightmares were gone finally…finally! And you…” She struck out at him. “You! Brought them all back again!”

  Ian swore loudly, and met the eyes of the nurse in the door. “It’s alright…she had a nightmare,” he waited until the door closed before easing onto the bed at her side, urging the shaking women against him and offering whispered promises that the morrow would improve.

  “Anya…” Ian wasn’t sure what else to try and say. What else to apologize for…misunderstandings seemed rampant.

  A long time later, Anya lifted her head only enough to snuggle against him with a jagged sigh. She didn’t notice his fingers twine with hers. Didn’t notice the soft kiss that fell on her head. She never noticed anything again until the sun began peeping through the wide windows.

  Dark lashes rose slowly. One last shudder broke free, her eyes widening when the arm protectively around her tightened a little. Soft, warm breath drifted from above her forehead. She recognized the white coat. She recognized the scent of him, she realized abruptly.

  “Ian?” His name broke in a whisper.

  “G’morning,” he responded, wincing and crooking his head to the side with a noticeable crack.

  “This was…a very bad idea…” Anya couldn’t move, her hand was trapped beneath them and her other one was useless for strength and pressure.

  “I disagree,” Ian slowly untangled them, sitting up with a groan and a long, high stretch. “I think it was the best idea I’ve had in a very long time. I’ve got to get ready for rounds and change clothes,” he turned, blinking and meeting her gaze. Suddenly she looked like a fawn caught in the lights of a car. She didn’t move when he bent over and kissed her softly. “I’ll be back later and we can talk.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Anya was moving cautiously from the bathroom when breakfast arrived and the nurse came in to check her bandages. She sat on the end of the bed, eyes closed against the occasional pain as the stitches were cleaned and new bandages applied. The sling remained taut as she slowly made it hungrily through the breakfast tray.

  She had moved to the chair and sat staring into the sunshine when Ian returned a little before noon. They looked at one another with great caution.

  “Thought I’d have lunch with you,” Ian carried his tray and went back out to bring in another from a small cart outside the room. “A little different than the usual lunch today. I brought in some egg drop soup and rice and chicken.”

  Anya watched him carefully roll the tray over to her, very aware of the breath caught in her chest. He wore fresh clothes, a clean shirt and white coat. The stubble that had brushed her cheek that morning was gone.

  “You know…it used to drive Will nuts that you would sleep in that old van of yours. He never understood why,” Ian unwrapped his spoon and did the same with the packet of utensils on her tray. “The soup is good…I have it at least once a week. But I think I’ve figured out why you lived out of the van.”

  Ian saw the spark of defiance enter her eyes, her fingers tightening on the spoon. He watched her cautiously take a sip, her spoon returning for more a second later.

  “I’m not sure why you live out of one now,” he paused when her gaze flew to his face, telling him he hit the nail on the head. Which accounted for why he couldn’t find her through normal channels. “And you do realize there is a problem with your discharge.”

  “I am an adult. There is no problem. I know the rules,” Anya said tonelessly, draining the soup with a long sigh. “It is very good soup.”

  “I definitely don’t recall you ever being this…subdued…before,” Ian mentioned casually, lifting a spring roll and dabbing it in the soy sauce.

  “A lot has changed in five years,” was her quiet reply.

  “I suppose it has…I worried about you,” he said simply. “But I have a perfect solution to your release problem. You’ll come stay with me.”

  Anya sputtered and choked on the drink of water she was swallowing, wide dark lashes looking at him like he’d just announced aliens had landed.

  “You are mad!” She declared in disbelief, taking the napkin from his hands and dabbing at the water on her chest where it had dribbled.

  “No…no, it makes perfect sense. I have this huge family house and tons of room. My grandparents live there…they have a live in nurse…they hardly use her, they’re disgustingly healthy and spry, but my parents worry, so Amber lives there in the guest house,” Ian kept eating and laying out his plan, ignoring the wild frantic look on her face.

  “I am perfectly capable…”

  “You can’t even pull up your own jeans, Anya,” he pointed out, chuckling at her growl. “For the next ten days or so, you’re going to need help. It’s not a bad concept, you know. Friends help friends. It’s the way the world should be,” he told her with a casual shrug. “Anyway, there’s a great view and you have access to a pool for some physical therapy on the shoulder and a hot tub and sauna. I’m not sure where the rest of the family is…it’s the beginning of summer, so there’s just no telling at the moment. But regardless, we have an entire wing empty. My room is next door, so you can call if you need anything. We have a cook and…” he stopped when she murmured something under her breath.

  “I know what that one means and I haven’t lost my mind and yes, they permit me to practice medicine despite of my mental condition,” Ian assured her. “You know you scared the night nurse out of a year of her life las
t night when you screamed,” he said with a change in topics. “I’m sorry talking about Will brought back the one bad thing for you, Anya. I guess I want to remember the laughter and…guy things we did together…the Will that always found something positive, no matter how grim.” Ian stopped talking when the dark eyes began filling up with unshed tears.

  “What are you doing to my patient, Sheffield?” Pembrook breezed into the room, propping the door wide.

  “Feeding her,” Ian answered honestly. “And talking about her release. I’ll be taking her home with me about five, if that’s okay. Pretty sure we don’t need the room that bad.”

  “Home with you?” Pembrook looked from one to the other.

  “He is delusional,” Anya said with a shake of her head.

  “She’s living out of a van, Pembrook. So for the next ten days at least, she is going to be staying at the family house where Amber can look after her, if she needs help.”

  “Out of…” Pembrook saw the truth in Anya’s eyes. “You know I can’t hold her here, Ian.”

  “No…but I also know she’s a reasonable woman. I made a promise to take care of her,” he said quietly, the spoon in her fingers broken in half with a sharp snap. “And I intend to keep it.”

  “Then between the pair of you and Amber, you’ll know how to handle the dressing and stitches,” she scrawled instructions across the form and striding from the room.

  “And if you want to protest, I’ll call Chloe and Jane. Once they are aware that you're homeless, they will descend on you en masse,” Ian chuckled at the realization in her eyes. “So…really…if you think about it…staying with me isn’t such a bad idea after all.”

  “That is blackmail,” Anya lifted another fork and finished the chicken on her plate.

  “No…you have a choice, Anya,” Ian gathered the trays and placed them on the cart in the hall. “I’ll check on you later. Try and rest.”

  Choice my aunt fanny, she mumbled, standing up slowly and attempting to stretch her legs and groaning aloud with the effort. She was bent at the waist, hanging and breathing deeply when the door was opened.