~~~~~*~~~~~

Clare sat on the couch in her and Libby's apartment and carelessly flicked on the TV using the remote. The apartment seemed very empty without Libby, and although the younger woman had recently spent a lot of her evenings in her room studying, Clare had still been aware of her presence.

Now the silence in the rooms was deafening, and she hoped that the television might at least make some background noise; even if she couldn't focus on what was happening on the screen.

As she sat there, her mind was consumed with thoughts of her friend...

+ + +

Libby dropped the cardboard box full of her VHS collection that she'd been carrying into the apartment as soon as she was over the threshold. It clattered to the floor spilling some of its contents, causing Clare—who was unpacking one of her own boxes in the living room—to jump in alarm. Libby, however, was completely unaware. She was already rushing along the hall towards the first of the closed bedroom doors to choose which she wanted for her own.

Clare laughed joyfully as she watched her friend explore the apartment for the first time. It wasn't new to her like it was to Libby. She'd travelled over to the States a month before to arrange job interviews and find them both an apartment to rent, but she relished the excitement on her friend's face as she tried to take it all in.

Back in England, Libby had lived with her parents, and so sharing an apartment with Clare was exciting all by itself. That, combined with the fact that they were thousands of miles away from home, just added to her glee.

"These bedrooms are huge!" Libby exclaimed from inside one of the rooms and Clare padded up the hallway and peeped her head around the doorframe to find Libby lying in the middle of the empty room, making invisible snow angels with her arms and legs on the carpet.

"Oh, this bedroom is definitely mine," she beamed at Clare as she sat upright. "I just know I'm going to like it here!"

+ + +

Clare sat and smiled at the memory before she found herself fighting back tears once again. Libby's face had been a picture that day, and that had been before Clare had mentioned about the jobs that she had lined up for them. Feeling the ache in her stomach once again threaten to consume her, Clare wrapped her arms tightly around herself, hoping that it might help to keep her heart from breaking apart.

She was brought back to earth by a gentle knocking on the front door and she glanced at the digital display on the television to read the time. It was a little after eight in the evening and she let out a groan at the thought. Is it really so early?

She'd been home from the hospital since about three that afternoon and as it was a Saturday and she wasn't scheduled to work, she'd spent most of the time when she hadn't been at the hospital wandering aimlessly around the mall.

Since coming home she'd been unable to do anything but sit and stare at the walls, or—as was the case now—the television. Her time at the hospital had seemed to fly by and yet, now that she was home, every second seemed an eternity. She felt as though she were living in an alternate universe where everyone else's lives were carrying on whilst she was living through Groundhog Day. She couldn't imagine how she would adapt to her new 'normal' if Libby were to remain in hospital long term.

Dragging her feet over to the front door, she unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door to find JC standing there with a plastic carrier bag full of Chinese takeout packages in his arms. Clare stared at him for a moment, too mentally drained to ask him what he was doing, and decided to simply leave the door open while she made her way back inside. JC didn't hesitate to follow her.

"How you doin'?" he asked as he followed her into the kitchen where she'd gone to get herself a glass of water. The smell of the food made Clare feel sick, but she didn't want to upset him by refusing his offer. She knew that he'd only argue that she needed to eat properly to keep her strength up. Not that she considered Chinese takeout 'proper' food.

"I wish people would stop asking me that!" She said moodily as she took a glass from a cupboard above the worktop and headed over to the sink to fill it from the faucet. She turned back around to face him and took a swig of the water. "I'm not the one dying in hospital," She said angrily and slammed the glass down hard onto the counter, sending some of the water flying up the side of the glass and onto her hand. She wiped her hand along the side of her jeans and stared down coldly at the floor. Even saying the words out loud filled her with anguish and she bit down hard onto her tongue to force herself not to cry.

JC said nothing but walked across the room and pulled her tightly into his arms. The comfort of his hold made her want to nuzzle into his chest but she wouldn't allow herself. She kept thinking of Libby, who might never again feel the closeness of a hug.

"She's not dying, Clare," JC said firmly after a few minutes of silence. Clare listened to his words, but she knew as well as he did that there was no way that he could know that for sure. She wanted to say the words out loud, but it felt as though she would somehow be letting Libby down if she did so.

"What will I do without her?" Clare whispered into JC's chest as he continued to hold her close.

"I hope you don't have to find out."

"But I already am," she said and pulled away slightly so that she could look up into his face. "This whole place is empty without her. It's just not the same..."

JC didn't know what to say. Clare was right; the atmosphere in the apartment had noticeably changed, but he put it down to the fact that everyone was still simply shocked and upset by what had happened. He hadn't considered until that moment that Clare would have to return every night that Libby was absent to an empty apartment.

He wondered whether he should talk to Jamie about asking one of the girls to move in but he wondered how Clare might take that. She could easily misinterpret it as them trying to replace Libby, which of course they would never do.

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind to consider later. Right now he needed to concentrate one–hundred percent on Clare. He couldn't do anything to take away her pain, but he was certainly going to try to be the most supportive, comforting friend that he could be for as long as she needed him.

Under the water you scream so loud / But the silence surrounds you / But I hear it loud when you fall in the deep / And I'll always find you / If my red eyes don't see you anymore / And I can't hear you through the white noise / Just send your heartbeat I'll go to the blue ocean floor / Where they find us no more / On that blue ocean floor...

~~~~~*~~~~~

Clare woke with a start from a deep but unsatisfying sleep to the sound of her alarm clock beeping. JC lay beside her still dressed in the clothes that he'd been wearing the day before as he'd been unwilling to leave her even just to head back to his place to pick up some overnight things. Clare had felt deeply touched by his concern for her, and extremely grateful. She hadn't been looking forward to another lonely night at the apartment.

He hadn't intended to stay at first, but when she'd seemed to become fretful and tearful as the night had descended he known that he couldn't leave her. He hated to think of her being all alone when she was in such a fragile state of mind. He knew that she was doing her best to pretend that she was coping okay, but he knew better.

Trying to remember why she'd set her alarm clock so early, Clare realised with disappointment that she was scheduled to work that day. Her heart sunk at the thought. The Compound was another place that she couldn't imagine being without Libby; even though the younger woman only worked there part–time.

Rolling over to face JC she tentatively nudged him awake, offering him a weak smile when he opened his eyes to look at her.

"Hey," she said apologetically, "sorry to have to wake you."

"Hey," he said as he rubbed his eyes with his balled up fists and let out a groan of a yawn. "What time is it?"

"Early," Clare told him evasively and he immediately glanced at her bedside clock to find out for himself. Clare could tell what he was thinking as he read the time—that he could quite easily have slept for another few hours—but he was too much of a gentleman to say anything. Instead, he rolled onto his side and supported his head with his palm as his eyes scanned her face for some sort of indication that she was still as upset as she had been the night before.

"I have to go to work," she told him as he studied her face intensely, "but I'm going to stop by the hospital first. I have to see Libby."

JC nodded, completely understanding. "I'll drive you," he said as he sat upright and climbed off the bed without a backwards glance.

He'd been adamant that if he stayed that he would sleep above the bed covers, even though Clare had nearly been at the point of protesting that she'd rather he didn't. However, in the cold light of day, she'd been grateful for his sense of decorum; it would only have complicated her life further if something had happened between them at that moment in time. 

"You don't have to!" She called after him as he made his way out of her room and headed towards the bathroom; but his mind was already made up.

"It’s fine, I want to," he called back before she heard the bathroom door click shut behind him.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Clare walked into Libby's hospital room without first checking to see whether it was occupied or not. It was only when she’d turned around from having closed the door behind her that she noticed a middle–aged woman sitting in the visitor’s chair on the left hand side of Libby’s bed.

The woman hadn’t seemed to hear her entrance, and she was crying and wringing her hands together as she muttered something intelligible to Libby. For a moment, Clare considered leaving the room straight away, but, as she continued to stare, she realised that the visitor was in fact Libby's mother, Catherine.

As Clare inhaled noisily in surprise, Catherine's head snapped to attention and she glanced over her shoulder to see who had entered the room. Mother and daughter looked so similar that Clare had to fight away tears at the sight.

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed with feelings of guilt and remorse, Clare froze and stared back at Catherine open–mouthed as she realised that she hadn't remembered to call any of Libby's family to tell them the news. She felt horrified at her own forgetfulness. And yet, how could it be that Catherine was at her daughter's side when she hadn't even been told about the accident? Mother’s intuition?

Sensing Clare's confusion and hesitation, Catherine Armstrong jumped out of her seat and rushed over to pull Clare into a tight hug. It had been several years since the women had seen each other, and yet it might as well have been yesterday.

"Clare!" Catherine gasped as she squeezed her tightly. "Oh, Clare. I'm so glad to see you."

Clare returned the hug but found herself too surprised to be able to form words.

"Your friend... Jamie? She called me," Catherine explained in a rush as she pulled away to look into Clare's face. "She told me that Elizabeth had been involved in an accident and that she was in the hospital! Oh, my darling. Naturally I got on the first flight out here."

Clare returned Catherine's weak smile as the relief washed over her. Jamie... thank God.  She must've known that I would be too preoccupied to call anyone. She made a mental note to thank Jamie when she next had a chance.

"I've just spoken to the doctor," Catherine continued as she glanced over her shoulder at her daughter as a worried frown crossed her face. Her chin began to tremble as she continued to speak. "He told me that overnight she's developed some pressure on the brain. They are trying to schedule her in for some kind of surgery today."

"Surgery?" Clare gasped, taken aback by the news. "No one called me..."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth Clare regretted them. Of course they didn't call you, Clare, you idiot. With Libby's mother here you're no longer the next of kin. She met Catherine's eyes and tried to cover her tracks quickly. She didn't want her words to sound like an accusation. "Isn't surgery very risky?"

Catherine reached out and squeezed Clare's left hand before gently tugging her forward so that they were both standing over Libby. "Yes," she said in a soothingly, motherly tone and stared down fondly at her daughter. "But they can't leave her with pressure on the brain."

Catherine turned back to Clare with a sad expression and said, "I guess it's what they call a catch twenty–two." Clare nodded back glumly.

"I wish I could have come sooner..." Catherine said as her eyes scanned Clare's face. "I can't imagine what you've been going through. I know my Elizabeth is like a sister to you."

Clare swallowed audibly. "Yes, and I am so sorry that I haven't been taking better care of her," she said as tears once again threatened to spill from her eyes.

"Yes, and I'm sorry I haven't been taking better care of her." Clare said, as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

"Hush," Christine told her as she wrapped an arm around Clare's waist. "I spent the whole time on the flight here wondering 'what if', but it didn't do me any good; and it won't do you any good either. We have to just accept that this has happened and try to find a way to pull through. This isn't anyone's fault, Clare."

Clare wanted to agree, but she couldn't. She had to find someone or something to blame as she just couldn't cope with the idea that Libby's accident had simply been 'one of those things'. It was just too cruel.

"Has anyone else been told about the operation?" Clare asked as her thoughts turned to the rest of her friends. She'd tried her best to keep them as updated with Libby's progress as possible, but so far there hadn't really been much to say.

"I told her young man," Christine replied as she turned to Clare with a twinkle in her eye. "He was here when I arrived."

Clare hesitated. There could only be one person to whom Catherine was referring, but even hearing Libby's mom say the words out loud was a little startling. Especially the phrase 'young man'. It was such a 'mom' thing to say.

"Justin's here?"

"No, he offered to go home when I arrived. He said he'd be back later to find out any news." She glanced back at Libby and smiled fondly. "He's a very nice boy."

Clare swallowed again and bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying. Get a grip, Clare. You can't keep bursting into tears at any available moment.

"He is nice," she agreed in a weak voice as she, too, glanced over at Libby.

It was such a surreal moment to be sharing with Libby's mother and Clare wondered how her friend would react if she could overhear their conversation. Probably squirm with embarrassment, she thought, and the idea made her want to laugh out loud even as the tears shone in her eyes.

She wondered if anything would change between Justin and Libby if the young woman were to suddenly recover. Would the experience of nearly losing each other be the catalyst for them finally becoming a couple? Clare certainly hoped so.

Although she'd always had a niggling feeling, Clare was certain now that Justin had very strong feelings for Libby. His overwhelming distress the day before had assured her that his feelings went far beyond those of a friend. It'd made Clare wish that there was some way for her to tell Libby this; to tell her that if she were to wake up that she might finally get everything that she'd wanted for the past two years. If the chance to be with Justin wasn't enough to wake her then nothing would.

Glancing at the E.C.G monitor, Clare watched the steady peaks and falls scrawl across the screen as they recorded Libby's heart–rate. Strangely, the sight had become somewhat reassuring to her, and she wondered if that was weird. As she continued to stare she thought that she saw a slight change in one of the readings, but she soon put this down to her imagination. Her lack of proper sleep and almost constant anxiety was playing havoc on her nerves.

As she continued to watch the monitor, Clare became aware of the time in the bottom corner of the screen and she felt her heart sink. Her time was up. She had to leave now or call Johnny to say that she was going to be late—which she really didn't want have to do.

"I have to go to work..." she said regretfully and let her eyes flick to Libby's face. It hadn't been much of a visit and it scared her to think that her friend might be going in for surgery before she had a chance to see her again.

What if something goes wrong in the surgery and she doesn't make it? What if the swelling is much worse than the doctors have calculated and complications arise? Might this be the last time I'll see Libby alive?

"Let me take your number, Clare," Catherine said as she reached into her black, leather handbag and retrieved her cell–phone. She fumbled around with the buttons for several seconds before looking up expectantly. "I could call you if I hear any news..."

"Would you?" Clare said as she looked inside her own bag for her purse. She found one of her business cards that had both her personal and work numbers typed neatly on the back and handed it over to Catherine. "It would certainly make me feel better to know what was going on."

"Of course," Catherine said as she began to record the numbers Clare had given her into her phone. "I'll call you as soon as I hear anything."

Clare nodded; feeling satisfied that even though she couldn't physically be with Libby, she would at least be able to keep in touch with what was happening to her. She approached Libby's bedside for the first time and leaned down to kiss her friend on the temple. Even now it still shocked Clare to see her so still, but she covered her alarm by brushing a hand affectionately over Libby's hair.

"Take care, Lib," she said as she pulled away and took one last look at her friend. "We all love you. Don't ever forget that."

Clare exchanged a weak smile with Catherine and turned and left the room.

~~~~~*~~~~~

As Clare made her way out of the main entrance of the hospital and walked around the corner of the building towards the car lot, she saw Justin heading towards her in the opposite direction. His shoulders were slumped and his head was bowed as he stared down at the ground as he walked. 

Although he hadn't yet spotted her, Clare raised her arm in a greeting and waved at him anyway. Fortunately, he looked up in time to see her gesture and offered her a feeble attempt at a smile in reply.

"Hi," Clare said as he made his way over to her with his hands stuffed deep into his jean pockets.

"Hey," he replied as he came to a stop in front of her and they both stared at each other for a minute, neither of them knowing what to say to the other.

Clare couldn't believe how weird things were between them now. Sure, compared to JC, for example, she didn't know Justin very well, but she'd still spent countless hours in his presence and had never felt this uncomfortable around him before.

He was like a sponge in that he seemed to sense and absorb people's moods, and therefore he made a special effort to keep the people around him feeling at ease. He regularly went out of his way to please other people, even at the cost of his own comfort. He was just that kind of guy; and Clare put it down to the fact that he was used to being screamed at a lot. He was naturally disarming and used his God–given talent to make his own life easier. Having hysterical, screaming women running after him all day got pretty draining pretty darn quick.

"You been visitin' Lib?" Justin asked after a minute of wracking his brain to think of something non–Libby related to say and coming up with nothing.

"Yeah," Clare said, "I just found out her mom's here." She tried not to screw up her face at having used the word 'mom'. It still sounded wrong to her ears, but she was so used to the men of the group saying it that it had become part of her vocabulary, too. Mum...mom...mum...

"Yeah, we met earlier," Justin said as the corners of his mouth tilted up into a tentative smile. "They look alike..." Clare met his eyes and read in their depths what he was unable to say aloud. It hurts to look at her...

"Well, you've certainly made a good impression," she assured him and enjoyed the look of pleasant surprise that crossed his face. She knew how important it would be to him to make a good impression to Libby's mother. It was most probably the first time that the pair had met, and Clare felt a feeling of fondness wash over her at the thought of him having entered Libby's hospital room earlier that morning—probably feeling at his lowest—and suddenly having to impress Libby's unexpected guest. Fortunately, Justin could easily turn on the charm no matter how he was feeling inside. It was a consequence of his high–profile job.

"I dunno how," he chuckled self–depreciatingly. "I can hardly say I'm at my best right now." He glanced down at his feet and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. For the first time Clare became aware of the dark circles under his eyes and the two day old stubble that had formed over his chin. He looked shattered, and somehow a lot older than his years. "I can't eat, I can't sleep—"

"I know the feeling," Clare replied shortly and as soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. A look of hurt flashed across Justin's face only adding to Clare's guilt. It had sounded just like she was trying to compete with him over who was more upset, or physically suffering the most from what had happened. Clare mentally berated herself for being so careless in her choice of words. Why can't I stop putting my foot in my mouth around him? It never used to be so difficult to talk to him.

Justin cleared his throat and Clare realised that she'd been silent for way too long. She struggled to think of something non–competitive to say but everything that flashed through her mind sounded exactly that.

Eventually she said, "Catherine told me about the operation. I have to go to work now but she said that she'd call if there's any news. Would you mind doing the same? I'd hate to miss out on any updates..." There, that sounded nice and friendly and not at all accusing. She knew that if Justin gave his word then he would certainly keep it.

"Yeah, of course I will. Will you be at the Compound all day?"

"Yeah. Although I might stop by during my lunch break."

"Great. I'll call your cell anyway, just in case," he said and flashed her a warm smile. Clare stared up into his face, unsure of what to do next. She wasn't sure whether she should offer him a goodbye hug or simply walk away. For a moment she realised how close she must be with JC, and how much easier things were with him; she never had to second guess herself around him.

Sensing her awkwardness, Justin reached out unexpectedly and pulled Clare into a hug. She was so taken by surprise that she reciprocated without realising and found herself holding him tighter as she relaxed into his arms. It felt so good to be held by him, and Clare once again felt tears stinging at her eyes at the thought of her friend upstairs in the hospital bed. How much Libby would probably give to trade places with her for that moment, she thought.

"Take care, Gid'," Justin mumbled into her hair.

"Yeah, you, too."

~~~~~*~~~~~