ϟ
who knew what the future would hold
i'll keep you locked in my mind, until we meet again.
The first time she meets him, she's twenty-nine and he's a lot younger than her! He's brought into the hospital she works in, with bruised and swollen knuckles because he's had an argument with some girlfriend and punched the wall during the argument.
"Mr Keogh, Dylan?"
He's got to be what eighteen, nineteen at a push. He absolutely stinks of alcohol and she's aware of the boundaries between a Doctor and a patient. But there's something about him that creates butterflies, even if she tries to tell herself not to be so flippin' ridiculous. He's not much older than her brother.
"Yeah?" His voice, hoarse and rough turns her on and she has to remain professional even if his touch is sending shivers down her spine. She tries to focus on the task at hand, examining his hand but she can't, all she wants to do is kiss him.
"I'm going to send you for an x-ray just to make sure nothing's broken."
He nods, she writes up his recent notes and places the clipboard on the end of the bed. It's only when she goes to leave that he grabs her arm and holds her by the wrist. She turns to look at him and there's nothing exchanged, they just stare, knowing what the other's thinking but being too scared to do anything about it.
She shakes her arm free and leaves the cubicle. Later on, she doesn't go back, she never does meet Dylan Keogh again that night.
/
The second time they meet its again by chance. She's thirty years old and she's been persuaded — dragged — to the nearest club to celebrate her best friend's twenty-ninth. She's wearing a short dress, blue to match her eyes and she's dancing on the dancefloor in her four inch heels which feel like death to her.
He spots her first, dancing, oozing with confidence from the opposite side of the dancefloor. He slowly walks towards her, pint in one hand, having a conversation to himself about what he's going to say to her without sounding like an idiot.
"Hey." He whispers in her ear. She turns, her eyes falling upon a young man in a checked shirt and she can't help but laugh; "I'm old enough to be your mother."
It doesn't stop him from trying. He wants her, at least know her name and her digits. He smiles and whispers; "Can I buy you a drink?"
She doesn't answer for a moment. She's debating with herself whether its a good idea to flirt with a man who's obviously younger than her. Still, being able to flirt was one of the benefits of being single.
"Sure, can I have a double vodka and lemonade please?"
He nods and laces his fingers through hers before taking her to the bar. He buys her what she wanted and she sits on the bar-stool, sucking and chewing seductively on her straw as she gazes into his eyes. He touches her cheek, "I'm Dylan."
"I'm Miriam." She smiles and sips her drink. They don't have chance to get to know each other before her friend comes back, grabs her by the arm and drags her off towards the exit. She makes eye contact and apologises. He necks his drink it one and leaves, trying to find her.
He searches every bar and club in town to find her but she's nowhere to be found.
/
The third time they meet it's exactly three years after they bumped into each other at the bar. Funnily enough, they've ended up in Alcohol Annoymous for their addiction to alcohol. She's got two weeks until she's thirty-four, he's just turned twenty-three.
"I'm Dylan." He puts out his hand and she shakes it, studying his face; "I'm Miriam, have we met before?"
"About three years ago, Bar Zoo in town. You wanted a double vodka and lemonade."
She smiles softly, impressed that he's remember exactly who she is. (She can't remember him, or the feelings she held over those years) It turns out not much else had changed in three years. He was married, with a child on the way and she was divorced, twice-over.
They exchange numbers and agree (and promise) that this time they'll keep in contact. They keep to their word this time but not for long, six months give or take a little bit. She recovers from her addiction, moves on and leaves him (again) to pick up the pieces.
/
The fourth time they meet, she's thirty-five and he's twenty-four. She's his Doctor and he's her patient. He's got into a drunken brawl and ended up worse for wear in A&E. She attends to him, as she did when he was a teen and rubs her fingers over his badly bruised knuckles.
"We meet again." She whispers, unable to determine if she believes in fate and destiny. Why, six years after their first meeting, did something insist on bringing them back together.
"It's a sign." He answers before he falls asleep. She watches him for a moment, noting how peaceful he looks and decides to leave him to sober up. That poor man would have one hell of a headache when he woke.
Instead of running a mile like she did all those years ago, she went back to see him. At this point he was awake and sober, or at least not so rough around the edges. She stands by the bed, one hand on her hip, the other on the bed.
"How did you know I worked here?"
He shrugged; "I didn't, not really, it was a guess."
She smiles softly and takes his hand, the one without the bruises and laces her fingers through his. She's aware she's stepping over the mark, breaking the rules and the boundaries put into place to protect them. She doesn't care anymore, she just doesn't want to be lonely.
He senses what she wants and kisses her on the lips, hard. As their lips touch, shivers run down her spine and butterflies fly around in her stomach but she wouldn't change the feeling for the world. She wonders if she's been in love for the last six years and just been afraid to take the chance.
/
"Do you believe in fate and destiny?"
"No it's just a cliché, you don't really believe in all that do you?"
She smiles, twirling the engagement ring around her finger and answers; "Of course, we're the cliché."
jottings — dedicated to rebaforever15 because she requested a Miriam/Dylan story, here's my rather rubbish attempt. I hope you enjoy reading and please, pretty please, don't forget to leave a review, mercixxx