The Ultimatum (@Edward)

Edward:

Doctors swarmed the hospital, grave expressions on their faces, clipboards filled with confusing scrawls clenched tightly in their white hands. The whole place had a sinister, clinical look; white on white, apart from some grey chairs and a clear vase of light pink flowers at the reception. Looking around, it looked more like a funeral service than hospital - a woman sat in the corner, quietly sobbing into a handkerchief; a young girl and boy sat on their father’s lap, clutching Barbie dolls and Hot Wheels cars like life preservers; an older woman was standing, pale and fragile, with a blank expression on her distraught face; a young man stood at the reception, speaking to the receptionist softly.

The receptionist was the only person who seemed welcoming and pleased, apart from a brightly coloured poster of a grandmother and her grandchildren with the title “Let’s Talk About Death”. The name tag clipped to her plain white clothes gleamed with the name “Jordana” written in print, and her smile was as genuine as a hospital would allow. Her voice, heavily accented with American, was cheery and happy.

“Of course, honey, Missus Van De Loose is just ‘round the corner. If you want, I can go get a little somebody to go lead you to ‘er.”

And, sure enough, the young man was lead by a doctor to a hallway marked “ROOMS A15 - D63”, his expression as mask-like as before.

So, when Giselle arrived at Jordana’s desk, she received the same cheery welcoming as the many worried New Yorkers before. “Hiya hon, the name’s Jordana, receptionist here. So, honey, can I help you? I just gotta get your name, ‘n your reason to visit one of them patients - poor souls, but they just love gettin’ a little bit of company.”

But as she heard Giselle’s reply, the woman took a seat beside her at the grey chairs, announcing to the silent women and men that she’d finished her shift and calling on another receptionist - “Bruce”, a less helpful looking man.

They sat together for a long while, silent. But Jordana knew that this would be what Giselle wanted. I’m too good a receptionist, she thought to herself, watching the sullen-faced people queue to see Bruce.

Giselle:

After the paramedics arrived the world stood still for an eternity as Giselle found herself passed along throughout the crowd that gathered around the ruckus that Edward had created in the middle of four lanes of New York traffic. For the most part her daze had kept her from protesting until-

“Please-” She pleaded, delicate fingers grasping the cold metal of the stretcher that was being moved toward the large metal box known only to her in passing as the ambulance. What it’s purpose was she still hadn’t found the time to discover. “-don’t make me leave him.” The distraught redhead protested firmly, finding strength in her trembling voice.

Noting the sincerity in the woman’s desperate eyes, a kindhearted paramedic allowed the woman aboard, working around Giselle as he sought to stabilize the unconscious prince. He was badly injured, and yet- as far as anyone could determine, the only thing critical about his condition was the blood loss, which was expertly staunched by the careful hands of the pair of nurses that fluttered around the stretcher as they all made their way toward the hospital- sirens blaring.

Anything else could be dealt with at the hospital.

Before long the vehicle came to a halt and the doors were thrown open from the outside and a rush of fresh aire came overtook them, breathing life into the lull that had come upon everyone within the back of the ambulance.

“I’m sorry ma’am, we’re going to have to take him now.”

Giselle turned her head toward the paramedic who was speaking, catching only the partial lettering of the man’s name on his name tag as the other paramedic pried the woman’s hands from her prince’s.

“Wait!” She cried out desperately, spinning back around to see the swarm of people who were attending to Edward had doubled, hauling him out from the back of the steel beast. “Where are you-”

Her pleas all fell upon deaf ears while the paramedics worked, wheeling the stretcher into the hospital, and leaving the redheaded woman to follow blindly after, quickly overtaken by the doctors and nurses struggling to recheck the man’s vital signs- all confident that they were to be wheeling the oddly-dressed man into the Emergency Room.

“Stay back, please.”

A woman in a white dress of sorts held out her arm against Giselle’s chest as the swarm worked their way toward the set of double-doors leading into the large room labeled with red lettering, in the woman’s other hand was a clipboard. Should her face been contorted into anything other than grave professionalism, the chocolate-haired woman would be as recognizably attractive as Giselle saw that she could be- although the nurse’s attractiveness was nothing that the strawberry-haired woman could bring herself to comment on in her revitalized tsunami of concern.

“Where are they taking him!? Why can’t I-”

“Ma’am.” Turning back to face Giselle after the rush of people had moved beyond the ER doors, the youthful nurse offered a sympathetic smile, stealing the troubled thoughts from the princess-to-be’s mind for the moment. “Don’t worry, your friend is in very good hands. In the mean time, I would like to ask you a few questions and get you settled in while he gets taken care of.” Noting the troubled look that dwindled on the redhead’s features, the nurse thought to add, “You know that you can trust me, don’t you.”

Giselle nodded.

Everything that followed happened so rapidly that it was all Giselle could do to keep her head on straight. The overeager receptionist took down Giselle’s information, albeit with an abundance of confusion- and left her with Bruce to await the final word on Edward’s fate. Nervously the red-headed princess-to-be wound her fingers in and out of the fabric of her dress, already bloodstained and disheveled.

Although Bruce did what he could to engage the distraught woman in conversation, Giselle proved despondent throughout, rising to her feet only as one of the doctors made his way over to the pair, clipboard in hand and seriousness etched across his features.

“Giselle?”

“Yes, that’s me.” She acknowledged readily, clasping her raw fingers together hopefully. “Please tell me-”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” The doctor smiled reassuringly, flipping through the papers on his clipboard. “Your friend has a concussion, a few broken ribs-” Though try as he might to reassure the woman that her fiance’s injuries were not so grave as they sounded, he found himself cut off.

“What about his heart?”

“Excuse me, miss?”

For the first time since the accident, tears began to threaten to spill forth from the woman’s eyes as they met the doctor’s. ‘Joseph’ his name was.

He looked kind enough- so she’d expect him to give her the honest truth.

“Is his heart broken?”

(Source: giselleofandalasia)

ooc:

imnotsureitdidnt:

Finals, Finals, Finals-

Work, Work, Work-

That’s pretty much my week in a nutshell. :/

I’ve been trying to keep up with things here, but it’s been difficult.

So please, if I miss anything, feel free to send me an ask, it’ll be the easiest way for me to stay in touch until the beginning of next week.

I’m going to try to stay as active as possible, though.

So don’t worry, even if I’m not here, I will be in spirit.

<3 Phee Phee/Mads/Giselle