When St Just regained consciousness, it was to find himself on a narrow hospital bed. Machines were whirring, and there was a loud beeping. He looked down and saw that he was attached to an IV unit. Experimentally, he ran his tongue over his teeth experimentally as he wondered in bewilderment, Where the f*ck was he?
He must have made some sound, for a woman in a white uniform poked her head around the screen that separated him from the other occupants and said,
“Oh, you’re back in the land of the living, are you?” She beamed at him and went on, entering to check him, take a look at the charts at his feet as she added absently,
“There are some people who have been waiting to see you; they have been here for some time now.”
With another smile, the large woman strode off and a minute later, the screens were moved again as Bianca rushed in, her eyes dark with worry, telltale tears smudges on her cheeks. She went to wrap her arms around him but a very dishevelled-looking, yet handsome O’Grady, his cheeks dark with stubble, who had followed behind her, stopped her abruptly. He gripped her arms and stopped her.
St Just smiled tiredly. His brother’s hair was messy, standing up in tufts, like he had been running his hands through it and the dark stains under his arms showed that he had been too wired to relax.
It all came back to him now; Bianca had missed her periods and they had come to the doctor.
But he could not recall what the doctor’s verdict had been.
“Sugar,” he growled, as she stood beside him, her eyes brimming,
“Are you…?”
She nodded, biting her lip, her face turning delightfully pink.
“Three months along …or more…” she blushed and he grabbed her hands.
“Promise me you won’t…you’ll go through with it, babe.” He said, his voice suffused with feeling and she blinked.
But O’Grady was hyperventilating over another matter.
Now, his arm around Bianca, holding her back, O’Grady roared in indignation,
“Saint! F*ck it, why the f*ck didn’t you say you were so ill?”
He looked so woebegone that St Just felt his eyes prickle.
“I didn’t want to worry you, bro,” he said, his voice a little above a whisper. Bianca was stroking his hand, the one with the cannula and O’Grady said, trembling,
“When did you know, Saint?” This time St Just looked away, turning his head to stare at the blue curtains despondently.
“About three months now, I guess,” he said it quietly. O’Grady was furious.
“THREE F*CKING MONTHS? Ah, Sweet Jays us and you never once told me…?”
The curtains were suddenly whipped open and a stern-looking matron, her arms folded across her formidable bosom stood there, glaring at them.
“This is a hospital, Mr O’Grady,” she snapped icily,
“Not one of your infamous underground boxing rings.”
Bianca quickly gripped his arm, begging him mutely not to respond. Liam O’Grady eyeballed the woman and shook his head.
“Visiting hours are over,” the cantankerous old woman continued, tapping her foot.
“I…We’ll be back, Saint,” promised O’Grady and left the tiny vestibule, escorting a teary Bianca.
The doctor had confirmed that Bianca was pregnant, three and a half months along, she had said, looking mildly surprised.
Unlike most women, Bianca had not had any symptoms of nausea or any sort of physical discomfort, which was why she had not really thought of it. Now she sat, huddled beside her lover, looking ahead gloomily. The doctors had to carry out a battery of tests before they got back with the results for St Just and the thought weighed heavily on his brother and their lover.
Claude Delano had turned up with Louis and Serena. Bianca had launched herself into Serena’s arms and sobbed till a nurse had asked her to be quiet.
Now, the two people closest to Finn St Just sat, their thoughts cheerless as they contemplated a future without the dashing Finn.
They were waiting for the physician who had gone in to examine St Just.
When the doctor ultimately emerged, it was close to ten pm but Louis had managed to lean on some of the physicians who had conducted a few tests on St Just. Initial ones, he had said.
The doctor indicated that they should accompany him to the little room he had and Bianca clung to O’Grady as she dragged her feet and approached the cabin.
The doctor was not a man who chose to beat about the bush. Taking off his spectacles and rubbing the bridge of his nose, the man sighed.
“Your friend over there. He’s got,” and he looked into their eyes directly, pity in his own gaze as he went on,
“Your friend has a tumour the size of a lemon behind his left eye,”
He stated it bluntly and Bianca gasped and leaned into her Master.
Liam O’Grady’s jaw tightened but he was listening intently.
“What do you advise, doc?” he said slowly, gathering his thoughts. Flashes of his childhood, growing up with Finn St Just, playing pranks, driving their mother Maggie to tears on occasion, only to gather her up in their arms and make her laugh, the initial years of starting their journey, all together…the memories were tumbling over each other. The doctor was speaking,
“…My advice.”
O’Grady looked around.” huh?”
Bianca was digging her nails into his arm and he held her hands.
“So…there could be a chance, doctor?” she asked hopefully. The doctor smiled sadly, his eyes roving over the features of the child-woman who sat before him, her eyes pools of worry.
He stared out into the dusk, a the tall buildings outside as he said,
“It’s a fifty-fifty chance. Whether he will make it…well it depends…”
O’Grady sat forward, his jaw pugnacious as he growled,
“Depends? You said depends. Depends on what?”
The doctor met his eyes cooly as he ground out carefully,
“It depends on whether the patient wants to live.”