DISCLAIMER: I do not own BBC Casualty or any of its characters. Just Dan the lorry driver :)

Rated T for injury detail and mild language.

A/N: Hello all! It's been about five or six years since I've written a Casualty fanfiction, and - ironically - it's another crash scenario. After watching the fourth episode of the latest series (35) my imagination completely ran away with me and I ended up writing this. I realise that the episode was re-written so they could film during lockdown, and they did a fantastic job, but my brain would not leave the idea of what else could have happened alone. So, here we are.

This isn't quite an alternative what-if story, but rather an expansion of the episode focusing on Dylan and Faith with additional dialogue and an alternative location, plus an extra character or two. Any dialogue taken from the episode has been re-written slightly. Also, I haven't watched any more episodes since writing so no spoilers please!

Anyway, enough from me. Please read and review if you have the time. I would love to know your thoughts! As always, enjoy x


UNTIL WE GO DOWN

- Secrets and Lies -


An hour. That's how long they're going to have to wait. A whole sixty minutes of forced and awkward conversation with only the faint bustle of the main road and a slow train of socially distanced people moving in and out of St James' to keep them company.

Suppressing a sigh, Faith lets her gaze drift aimlessly in the opposite direction. Away from the hospital. Away from him. The sensation of weightlessness still clings to her bones, a faint pressure on the bridge of her nose. It feels good to be relieved of all the protective equipment, even if it is only for an hour or two.

"You know, I can drop you off if you like?"

Pravi, the young ambulance driver who had helped them with the patient transfer, smiles in the afternoon sun.

"I know I'm not supposed to," she continues in a conspirational tone, "but I won't tell if you won't. I'm on my break anyway."

Glancing at her companion, Faith considers the idea. It is - though out of the ordinary - extremely tempting. And it will save her the agony of waiting an hour for a taxi with a colleague who seems determined to avoid her unless interaction is absolutely necessary. Pravi's offer, she decides, is too good to resist.

"That would be really great," Faith replies gratefully. "Right, Dylan?"

"Oh." Dr Keogh looks up from his phone, blinks in response. "Yeah. Great."

"Okay. I'll be back in a minute. Don't go anywhere."

Tucking her hands into her fleece pockets, Faith stares at the grey pavement beneath her plimsoles. As Pravi's footsteps fade, the hum of the city returns, and though it is not the sound of a city alive and bustling with people, it is a welcome hum compared to the barren wilderness the world had been only a few months ago.

On the adjacent pavement Dylan stands, waiting, as immovable as stone. Discomfort creeps into the air. There are no teasing comments to make, no witty or humorous remarks to exchange. Whatever friendly conversation there had previously been between them is now nothing more than a series of polite and rushed comments. He is not a man of many words, and those he chooses to speak aloud are bound to be abrupt and somewhat vague.

He is, she knows, disposed to be naturally unforthcoming, but his recent behaviour has not escaped her notice. Over the last few weeks he has become increasingly withdrawn and blunt. And that is, of course, no fault of his own.

Hunching her shoulders, Faith wills her gaze to stay trained on the pavement. His silence brims with expectation, and she wonders if he is simply waiting for her to say something.

"Can I do anything?" Dylan asks eventually.

The pain of the truth is raw in her mind, and yet still she feels the need to confide in him. He who has treated her with nothing but kindness and honesty.

"That depends." A feeble attempt at sarcasm. "Can you travel back in time and not see my husband with..."

With a man, her mind echoes bitterly, but her tongue refuses to taste the words. The truth is impossible to comprehend. Ineffable. It had been so easy to effortlessly dismiss it, so certain had she been of its falsehood. And then the thoughts had come, fearful and terrifying, blooming from the seed of doubt that had been planted in her mind.

That he had planted.

"I keep wondering if our whole marriage was a lie, you know?" Faith admits quietly. "If it meant anything at all? If he's ever... ever done it before?" Her eyes meet his, searching. "If every time we..."

A hard crease appears between his brows, his face set, motionless, and she can't quite tell if he's staring at her or through her.

"I'm sorry," she apologises, biting back the tumble of questions that neither of them can hope to answer. "You don't want to hear this."

"No, no," Dylan shakes his head, his features deepening a little. "You carry on. You have every right to be angry. Say whatever you like. Call him names. Damn him."

An uncomfortable silence. Her own anger is palpable, but so is his. And she cannot decipher if he is angry for her or angry at her. Or whether he is angry at himself.

A different, but equally challenging, question:

"Why did you tell me?"

"Because I'm your friend," Dylan replies.

Simple. Matter of fact.

"Just a friend?"

He looks, for a moment, startled. As if she had poked him with a pin or told him news of such staggering gravity as to render him speechless. Her question continues to sit there, in the space between them, exposed and unanswered. And there is no taking it back.

"You ready to go?"

Dylan starts as the young paramedic returns, pacing toward the ambulance at speed.

"Yes, um, thanks for offering to drop us off, Pravi," he stammers. "Very kind of you. Do you mind if I sit in the front with you? I get travel sick sometimes in the back. Terrible business."

Liar.

"Yeah, sure," Pravi grins as she opens the door, oblivious to his unease. "As long as you don't mind a stop off for some food on the way back. I'm starving."

He almost springs into the passenger seat, avoiding her knowing gaze. Opening the back door, Faith climbs in and resigns herself to a quiet journey back to Holby ED. She'd heard it in his stammer, seen it in the panicked blinking of his eyes: she'd struck a nerve, come too close to discovering his thoughts.

He'll tell her the truth eventually.

.x.

The road is long, never-ending in its monotony. He can almost see it through the backs of his eyelids, feel the shuddering of his seat as the tarmac rises and sinks beneath the hefty wheels. The heat of the summer sun is slowly dwindling, and a bank of dull grey cloud sits begrudgingly on the horizon.

His legs are stiff and aching for a stretch. A low rumble signals another missed lunch. He's drank more energy drinks in the last few hours than he cares to count.

"Oi, Dan, are you listening to me?"

"Yes, Frank." He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, blinks back a wave of fatigue. "I'm listening."

"Once your shift is done I'm gonna need you to do another," Frank's voice shouts over the noise of the road, crackling through the phone line. "Colin's off work now and I ain't got no more men to do the hours. Once you've delivered this lot you head back here and then out to Manchester, alright?"

Manchester. Dan shrinks in his seat. Great.

"You've got two hours."

"It'll take me two hours just to get back!" Dan exclaims, frowning at the dashboard. "Look, Frank, I know things are tight an' I don't mind doing an extra shift, but I can't do the impossible."

"Two hours, mate," Frank replies as if he hasn't heard a word of opposition. "I'll see you at the docks."

The call ends abruptly. He stares at the long, never-ending road. With a flick of his wrist Dan turns the volume up on the radio, eager to drown out the frustration gnawing at his nerves. Anything to distract him from the insanity threatening to take root in his mind.

Shaking himself, arms outstretched, Dan blinks the sleep out of his eyes.

"One day," he mutters. "One day he'll listen to me."