Hi everyone! This is a fic I've had in my mind for a long time now but have never really had the motivation to write. It is inspired by the song 'The Whole of the Moon' by The Waterboys, particularly the final chorus. And now I can get back to All Too Well and school work. Also, for some reason my browser won't let me upload or edit documents on here so I've had to do it on my phone, which has been brain damaging to say the least, so if there are any random letters or words anywhere I am sorry.

Anyway, enjoy reading! (Though I'm not sure 'enjoy' is quite the right way to put it :/)

I hate her.

I see her from my office window, chatting with the other staff, making them laugh, shoulders relaxed and carefree, natural. She had her arm slung loosely around Robyn's shoulders, fondly murmuring something in her ear whilst they both shot Lofty and Cal conspiring looks. I felt a rage unlike any other I've experienced before. She made me furious. Everything about her ground on my nerves. It wasn't jealousy. At least not at that point. I think it was more of an infatuation, a drive, like she was a wild hare and I a fox with a taste for blood. I wanted to tear her apart, devastate her, wipe that collected smile off her face.

I wanted her out.

Six months, I told her.

Six months and she would be gone, and I could get on with my job. I didn't always feel this way towards her, I'll admit. In fact, on our first meeting I was pleasantly surprised at the way she commanded my respect whilst still well aware of my status. I can't even really remember what led us to become so broken, so consumed with hatred and contempt. But before I could halt it even so much as a glance across the corridor made me want to scream, tear things apart. Each day I would find new things to hate about her. We were like a powder keg in a room full of sparks, ready to explode.

Six months.

I wasn't wrong.

I always did the nurses' rota with Charlie nowadays. It was easier, less hassle. I didn't have to waste energy on injecting every ounce of venom I could muster into my voice and my manner.

He often looked at me with a curious expression on his face, confusion mixed with understanding and despair, perhaps. Many times I expected him to say something when he stopped to consider me with this expression but then I would clear my throat and we would resume our conversation.

One day we didn't.

"She understands, you know," he said tentatively, his eyes meeting mine.

I was somewhat taken aback by this. "Who?"

"Rita. She knows why you're so angry with her. She doesn't hold it against you."

I scoffed. "She hates me just as much as I despise her."

"She doesn't, and I think you know it," he said, giving me that infuriating look that he reserved for times when he knew me better than I knew myself. I sighed and didn't say anything until he decided to drop it and go back to the rotas.

I'm not sure if this was the exact moment, but my whole outlook changed after that day.

A couple of weeks later it was Charlie's birthday. I wasn't going to go, pubs were never my thing and I felt I would put a dampener on the mood somewhat, but he asked me especially and I couldn't say no. He was one of my dearest friends and I felt I owed it to him.

I sat by the bar for most of the night, feeling that a table would be too large and too lonely to occupy by myself. I engaged in idle chatter with the barman and politely declined when anyone offered to buy me a drink. I knew they were only asking out of courtesy and I couldn't accept that.

I set out to leave more than once, but Charlie asked me to stay a bit longer, and so I did. The night was still young, but most of the staff were half-cut by now and there was a queue for the jukebox. I tried to avert my eyes as much as I could, not wanting to seem like I was prying, but then she stepped onto the dance-floor. Her, in her skinny jeans and her tight t-shirt and her mid-heeled boots, throwing her hands up in the air as she danced, the hem of her top lifting slightly to expose a thin line of smooth flesh around her middle. I followed her motions, the swing of her hips and the bounce of her hair. Her face was completely devoid of all tension and she laughed as she twirled and sang and swayed.

Something stirred within me and I felt my eyes soften as I watched. She looked beautiful. I mentally berated myself for this observation, but in my drunken mind I couldn't deny it, couldn't summon up the hatred which prevented these sorts of thoughts surrounding her from breaking in.

I turned my attention back to my drink.

Half an hour later, breathless and giddy, she flopped against the bar next to me, calling for another bottle of house white. The barman went off to fetch a bottle and I watched her curiously as she pushed herself up, regaining her composure and patting her hair back into place. Then she caught glance of me and her shoulders stiffened and her face set hard as stone. She gave me a small nod of acknowledgement before turning her attention to the array of spirits on the other side of the counter.

I remembered at this point what Charlie had said to me before, and I bit my lip. The drink had made me feel too intensely the crippling guilt I had so carefully packed away and I felt compelled to speak.

"You did well today," I blurted out. I had fought to keep my words reasonably detached and this seemed to suit. We had had two RTCs in one hour that day and had ended up having to divert to St James'. I had admired the way she had handled it, despite the panic that I had seen etched on her face.

She turned to me with a faint look of surprise and confusion and held my gaze for a moment before hastily looking away. "Thank you," she said simply.

We were silent again for several moments before the barman came back with her order. She picked it up and quickly turned to leave as I looked down with feigned disinterest.

The sound of liquid splashing into my glass made me look up and I saw her there, straight faced, reaching over me to fill my glass with the wine she had just purchased. I sat there agape as she lifted her arm away and gave me a small smile of geniality before disappearing swiftly back to her table.

My hatred turned somewhat to admiration after that. She had been the better woman, I realised. She had been the one with the heart to forgive and forget, even before my attempt at reconciliation.

I watched her even more intently now. I noticed the way she managed to build a connection with everyone she met, even the most difficult patients. She seemed to be in her element at work now. Her initial nerves about facing a new, more responsible role had now dissipated, and every incident was met with calm and swift action, and nobody was screamed at. I saw her every day, bouncing about the corridors with that good-hearted grin on her face that filled me with warmth. Even whilst I was sober, to me she still looked beautiful. A lot of the time when I walked in the room her smile now stayed firmly in place. I sensed a shift, larger than the one I had anticipated. Something in our dynamic had changed irrevocably and I was desperate to find out what it was.

When the next monthly rota meeting came I was surprised to find that not Charlie but her tentatively knocking on my office door. I called for her to enter and she closed the door gently before silently taking a seat before me, her draft schedules gripped tightly in one hand. She looked like a schoolgirl that was unsure why they had been called into the headteacher's office, trying desperately to think of what it was she'd done wrong. I offered her a slight smile, trying to mask my surprise, and she seemed to relax slightly.

She passed the sheets over to me and I quickly scanned them. Straight away I could see at least four separate days that, had it been Charlie, I would have said no to immediately, but something in me wanted to please her and I knew she would fight me over it.

"Why have you put Lofty here?" I asked diplomatically. I saw her tense up when I spoke.

She took a deep breath. "I thought that, given that Robyn is on holiday that week, we could better use him on a twilight than a night shift. Then if needs be he can do an extra day or two, rather than us having to get agency." She looked up at me cautiously, waiting for me to explode.

I met her eyes for several moments. She had her chin stuck out in defiance, but her eyes told a different story. In them I saw nervousness, fear. I was taken aback by the wave of emotion that overcame me at this and I had to clear my throat before I spoke.

"Fine," I said simply. "That sounds reasonable enough."

She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief then, and with my next query she was much more confident in her answer. By the time we had finished the rotas she had no reservations about telling me her true thoughts and I, for once, decided to listen. I watched the furrow of her brow and the exaggerated hand gestures she made whilst she was explaining something and the way her eyes lit up when she spoke of something she was passionate about. She watched me intently as I tried to explain to her the way the budget worked and the infinite amount of pressure being applied from above and she nodded her understanding, vowing to try and work with me on developing these new measures rather than against me when I tried to roll out new protocols without any input from her whatsoever. It felt surreal, all of this, and I was baffled as to why I was suddenly allowing her to take so much power. I had the sudden urge to yell at her, to reassert myself, but I held this back. Our newfound alliance was too precious to me, too important and I couldn't let myself push her away.

When we were done she stood up with a smile and thanked me for my time. I told her that I was glad we were now both on the same page and she hummed in agreement. She turned and placed a hand on the door handle, pausing for a moment before looking back at me.

She cleared her throat. "We were planning to go to the dogs this weekend, the team and I," she began, looking down at the floor self-consciously. "You're welcome to join, if you'd like."

She glanced up then and I held her gaze contemplatively. "I'll think about it."

Her shoulders dropped in an effort to appear nonchalant and she nodded. "Just let me know by Friday if you're interested and I'll get you a ticket." She offered me a warm smile before pulling the door open and walking away.

We had agreed to meet outside of the stadium as she had my ticket and I didn't really know where I was going. I had never been to anything like this before, it wasn't usually my thing, but something made me change my mind at this point and I wanted to go. I wanted to spend time with her.

I saw her standing at the turnstiles waiting for me, the light wind making her hair float around her face and I noticed her shiver. I felt drawn to her, admiration filling my every sense as I walked pointedly towards her. This sudden change in attitude scared me to the point that I had spent night after night awake, trying desperately to understand what had changed. I couldn't comprehend the fact that I had backed down, that I had dropped my grudge and was now building a relationship with her. This wasn't me at all, and I wanted to run away, to cut off all contact with her and go back to ignoring one another, but I couldn't do that. I was like a moth to a flame and I couldn't help myself.

She smiled excitedly at me, holding out my ticket to hand to the attendant. "I'm glad you came," she said warmly.

I resisted the urge to ask why.

For the rest of the night I stayed close by her, not wanting to tear myself away from her infectious energy and smile. I noticed looks from the staff more that once, muttering to one another in confusion at our sudden companionship. I didn't care. Her brightness blinded me. She was like the sun, drawing everyone around her in and providing them with life. I was amazed by the way in which she seemed to make everyone smile, myself included, and the way she managed to bring cheer with every step.

My admiration for her, once I had given up fighting it, seemed to grow endlessly. Each day she bewildered me. Perhaps it was because we were so different. I was more business-like, more detached. Or at least I tried to be, on the surface. Get the job done and move on. She was almost entirely opposite. She saw the person first, the patient afterwards. She radiated humanity and compassion and I envied her willingness to broadcast it, to show the world her heart.

Occasionally I would brush past her. Accidentally, of course, but this didn't take away from the fact that with each gentle touch I felt an all-consuming warmth spread through my stomach and I found myself relaxing into her. I didn't know why this was happening. It panicked me slightly, and for the rest of the night I couldn't take my mind off her.

The first time I truly recognised the extent of my attachment to her was when we were both out at a mine collapse. The severity of the injuries required much more specialised treatment than the ambulances could offer, and so we had both volunteered to go. There were eleven injured in total, and one still trapped inside the mine. His leg was stuck beneath a large pile of rocks, and we feared that if we moved him then the rest of the rocks would fall down. We had no other choice but to wait until the fire crew had cleared the scene.

But she wouldn't listen. She ignored my protests and crawled into the mine, swiftly setting up an oxygen tank and morphine. My heart raced. I knew just how unsteady it was and the fire crew had warned that it could collapse at any moment, but she was an adrenaline junkie and I was powerless to stop her. I felt sick, dizzy, my mind racing with sheer panic and the desire to grab her by the ankles and pull her out to safety. But she was too far inside for that, and I wasn't sure I could fit without knocking loose any rubble. I focussed on deep breaths, listening as she called out his obs. His GCS was dropping alarmingly and his blood pressure low. She shouted that we needed to get him out quick as he had a suspected arterial bleed in his thigh and the blood was gushing, despite the pressure of the rocks.

I heard a rumble then, and my heart was in my throat. Dust was quickly dropping from the roof and I knew it was about to collapse any second. I screamed at her to get out, all my composure now worn out. Debris was falling faster now, and I saw panic flash across her face. All inhibitions lost, I ducked down into the shaft and grabbed her almost violently by the shoulders, pulling her out with all my strength just in time for another large rockfall.

I held her in my arms for a good few seconds before we both truly registered what had happened and rushed back towards the rubble along with the rest of the crew. For everyone else, this was when the real panic started, but I felt perfectly calm. All composure was restored now that she was safe, and I realised then that I would have done anything to save her.

When I returned to my office I found that I was shaking, my chest pounding at the realisation that she could have died there. I sat down in my chair, straightening my back in an attempt to calm my breathing. My eyes felt watery and I frowned at myself for all this sudden emotion. I took a large swig of coffee and turned to the pile of patient notes on my desk, choosing to try and focus my mind on those instead.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," I said steadily. Slowly, she poked her head around the door before stepping inside. I sat back in my chair, eyeing her. She had a couple of grazes on her cheek that had now been dressed and she looked worn out. I waited expectantly for her to speak.

"I wanted to apologise," she began wearily. "For putting you in that situation. I shouldn't have done that."

"No, you shouldn't," I replied carefully. "Please don't let it happen again."

She seemed to take in a deep breath. "Without that oxygen mask he would have died-"

"Without me you could have died," I interrupted sharply. "You put yourself in danger and in doing so put your colleagues in danger too."

She stared at me. "I understand that. I am sorry."

I looked at her for several seconds, searching her eyes, trying to figure out what to say next. She had a knowing look in her eyes and I wasn't sure what that meant. I quickly glanced away.

"Fine," I said, looking down. We were silent for several moments.

"I'll leave you to it then," she said eventually. I nodded and she turned to leave.

"Hang on." She turned around to look at me curiously. I felt slightly awkward now. I didn't know why but I had stood up and I couldn't quite figure out what to do with my hands.

"I just wanted to say thank you," I said finally, avoiding her eyes. "For the other night. It felt good to know we're moving forward."

She smiled kindly. "That's okay. I enjoyed spending time with you."

A pause.

"Would you like to have dinner?" I asked quickly, before I could lose my nerve. "You paid for my ticket. I'd like to thank you," I added hastily.

She met my eyes contemplatively, again with that knowing look and the corner of her mouth turned upwards in a smirk. "Okay," she said. "You're on."

I let out a deep breath that I hadn't even realised I was holding. "What are your shifts like this week?" I asked, trying not to grin like a fool.

"Thursday's good," she offered.

"Thursday it is then," I smiled. "I'll book a table and then text you the address."

"Right," she nodded. Her eyes sparkled as the met mine and I felt like laughing with elation but fought to keep my expression nonchalant. "I'll see you then, then."

We held each other's gaze a few moments longer until I felt myself beginning to blush and quickly looked away, telling her I should get back to my paperwork and she went back to fill in hers. When the door clicked shut I finally allowed the grin I was holding back to overcome my features and put my hand over my mouth in disbelief at what I had just done.

I have never been so nervous as I was for that dinner. I must have tried on at least three different outfits, eventually settling for a cream-coloured blouse and high waisted trousers. My nails were trimmed and my hair twisted back into an updo. I polished my signature Louboutin stilettos and had my jacket dry-cleaned. It made me laugh just how much effort I put in, like a pathetic teenager, but it still didn't stop me. At this point, despite my nerves, in my conscious mind we were still just two friends going out for a meal together, as friends do. I was kidding myself though and deep down I knew it was much more than that.

I got the taxi to drop me off just around the corner, the butterflies in my stomach were making me feel shaky and I felt I could do with some air. The night was crisp and cool and I shivered, hugging my arms tight around me. I smiled despite myself, the butterflies twisting and turning and making me feel giddy.

As I caught sight of her I took a deep breath, taking advantage of being able to fully take in her appearance without being caught. She was wearing black skinny jeans, a red camisole and a black blazer. Her hair was pinned back at the sides and her cheeks were flushed with the icy wind. My heart fluttered in my chest.

She greeted me warmly, her face lighting up and her eyes bright. There was a hint of awkwardness, I expect because we both felt the tingles of anticipation but weren't entirely sure what they were for, but this seemed to dissipate after the second glass of wine. There was a band playing and the smooth jazz melody created a more relaxed atmosphere.

We chatted more than we had ever had chance to before, about anything and everything. We began on light topics like work, training and so on. As the drink flowed and the night grew older we got onto the more deep topics. Grace, Mark, our childhoods, us. I expected to feel tense, discussing these matters with her, but it felt natural and I was almost relieved, most likely because it allowed us to see our feud from each other's perspective and truly understand what had gone wrong, and how neither of us were solely to blame.

By the time we were on our desserts I felt less tense and more alive that I had in months, and I fell for her a little more with every sentence uttered.

We decided to share a taxi home as we were both going in a similar direction and a football match on the other side of town meant that they were few and far between. We eventually managed to hail one and both stumbled drunkenly into the back seat. She gave the driver her address and we were both silent as he drove, our shoulders touching lightly. My every thought was focused on that one point of connection. Despite the thick fabric of our jackets I could feel the warmth of her skin and I couldn't stop myself from leaning into her.

Eventually we pulled up outside her address. Both of us had become languid now, lazy, and she didn't even lift her head as she turned to face me.

"Night," she whispered. In the streetlights I could see the outline of her face, her eyes searching mine, her lips slightly parted. I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, how perfect, but I was conscious that the driver was watching us in his mirror and I didn't want to make a spectacle of myself. My eyelids felt heavy, my mouth dry as I looked quickly down at her lips and back up to her eyes. I knew in that moment that I had to kiss her.

But I chickened out. "Night," I whispered back, my eyes boring into hers, attempting to communicate to her just what I wanted, trying to read if she wanted it too.

We sat in silence for several more moments until the driver cleared his throat and we snapped out of our trance. She sat forward quickly, reaching into her purse for her share of the fare but I wafted her away, telling her that it was part of my thank-you to her. She thanked me for the evening and said that we should do it again some time and I was perhaps a little too eager in my agreement.

She was just about to swing the door shut when she turned her head back to me.

"Nightcap?"

She said it so low and so tentatively that I was almost unsure of what she had said. My heart skipped a beat and my breathing quickened. I hesitated, perhaps with disbelief, before swiftly turning to the driver to pay the fare. I didn't even wait for my change before climbing out and walking down the pathway with unsteady feet.

We both knew what she had meant.

The sense of anticipation from the beginning of the night had returned now and burned stronger than ever. I felt shaky, nervous, excited.

She asked me what I would like to drink and I said I would have whatever she was having. She poured us both a scotch and we stood together in her kitchen, each leaning against opposite counters, sipping our drinks in silence whilst our heart rates doubled and our fingers trembled.

When I drained the last of my glass and I saw her doing the same my heart seemed to stop. Time stood still and she was my universe, my everything.

I felt her step towards me with every sense and goosebumps prickled my flesh. I tried to keep my breathing steady, but it was no use. I watched her through heavy eyelids as she came ever closer until her face was mere inches from mine. I could smell the whiskey on her breath as it breezed gently across my lips and I grasped tighter onto the kitchen top for fear my knees might buckle.

As I felt the first brush of her lips against mine I involuntarily let out a small whimper. The butterflies in my stomach were going wild and my heart pounded. Her lips were soft and warm as she slowly, savoringly pressed them to mine. My head swam and my breath halted and my body felt alive. I wanted to devour her. But this moment was too special, too precious, and I wanted to commit to memory every second of it. Every sensation.

When she eventually pulled away I let out a shaky breath and without thinking poked my tongue out to taste her on my lips. I opened my eyes and I saw her looking up at me through her eyelashes, her pupils dilated and her cheeks flushed. We stayed like that for several moments, accompanied only by the sounds of our own unsteady breathing, until the corners of her mouth turned upwards and I let out a loud, exhilarated laugh. She bit her lip as her smile turned into a relieved, euphoric grin and she let her forehead rest gently against my chest as we giggled together, her holding onto me by the fabric of my jacket. When she looked up I took her face in my hands and kissed her more deeply, more tenderly, and I felt her smile against my lips as she slipped her arms beneath my jacket to pull our bodies closer together.

Soon the kisses became hotter and my fingers hungered for the touch of her skin and her giggles turned into whimpers of longing. Her hands found mine and she took me to bed, stopping momentarily when we were half way up the stairs to plant another open-mouthed kiss on my lips, unable to wait until we reached the top.

We made love sensually, relishing the touch and taste of one another and never wanting the night to end. And when we finally went to sleep I could feel her heart beating in rhythm with mine, as though we were one.

The next two months flew by all too quickly. I was shocked at how easily we fell into a routine, and within a fortnight I had grown so used to sleeping next to her that when she went onto nights I slept fitfully, the bed feeling too cold and too large for me to sleep in alone.

We never told anyone at work, though I was informed afterwards that it was common knowledge. Everyone had just accepted it, unsurprised, and decided not to force us out of the closet, to let us tell them in our own time. I was thankful for that.

I had decided months back that I would fly out to New York for the week of Grace's birthday. It would be the longest Rita and I had spent apart in our relationship and I longed to take her with me, but I knew that that would be impractical and she had to stay. We agreed to call every other day and she drove me to the airport, giving me a long kiss goodbye earning several looks of disapproval from the other people being dropped off.

The flight was long and gruelling and by the time we landed I felt spaced out and disoriented. This dissipated immediately when I saw Grace stood with Sam waiting for me, though, and as she ran to greet me tears stung my eyes. She had grown since I'd last seen her and her hair was cropped at the shoulders. I thought I could hear a hint of American in her accent.

Over the next couple of days we spent almost all our time together. She showed me where she went to school and where her friends lived. We went up the Empire State Building and I took her to go see Mamma Mia on Broadway. I had almost forgotten how wonderful it was to spend time with her without the restrictions of work hanging over us.

I imagined what it would be like to have her living at home again. There would be the small issue of having to explain to her my relationship with Rita, but I knew that after the initial shock she would get used to it and most likely grow to adore her, just as I do. We would be a family and it would be much easier for one of us to always be there with her.

I told Rita of this fantasy when I called her that evening. It was much later there; she was on a break in her night shift. She laughed happily and told me how much she would love to meet Grace, properly this time, and I said that she would hopefully be coming over during the summer. I asked how things were there and she told me of how Lofty had tripped up whilst carrying a box of craft materials for a patient and there now seemed to be glitter in every corner of the department, and how Lily had taken it upon herself to fill my role of chief executioner during my absence.

"She gave him a right telling off," she giggled. She made an impression of the young doctor and I laughed fondly.

"What is she like," I sighed happily. "And Lofty."

I heard her nodding. "We must be the only department in the country that has to worry more about getting glitter everywhere than we do germs," she said. "The CQC would have a field day."

"They would," I laughed again, and we were silent for a few moments after that, until I spoke. "I miss you."

She let out a breath. "I miss you too," she whispered. "More than I anticipated."

We were silent again, contemplative. I wished that I could jump down the phone and hold her in my arms, pull her to me. My chest ached with longing for her company and I felt emotional.

"I love you," she said suddenly, taking me by surprise.

"What?"

"I said I love you," she repeated, her voice thick with feeling and my heart swelled.

"I love you too," I said softly. "And I can't wait to see you, then I can tell you in person."

"I'm counting down the days," she breathed, and I murmured my agreement, my lips turned up happily.

We chatted a while longer before she begrudgingly told me that she needed to get back to work as she had already exceeded her thirty minute break and still needed to pick up a sandwich. I told her I loved her again and promised to call her tomorrow around the same time.

Saying goodbye to Grace again was heartbreaking, and I spent most of my time in the airport sobbing. It was an overnight flight, so once I was on the plane and settled I surprisingly managed to get a fairly decent sleep, despite the turbulence. I must have tired myself out with all that crying.

When I had finally passed through the long customs queue and picked up my luggage, I made my way out of the arrivals gate, looking around for her. She was looking at her watch when I saw her, obviously wondering what was keeping me. My face broke into a large grin as I strode towards her, and when she spotted me she sprang at me, almost knocking me over as her arms wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me into a long, savouring kiss.

"I love you," she whispered against my lips, and I returned this with a deeper kiss. She laughed and pulled away with a quick peck on my cheek, taking one of my bags off me and leading me to the car.

We were barely through the door before I pounced on her, kissing her with all the energy I could muster. I needed to make up for all the kisses I had missed in the past week, and I was so desperate for her that we didn't even manage to get upstairs.

I made love to her on the sofa, the whole room glowing with the bright early morning sunlight that crept around the edges of the curtains, and all the time whispering 'I love you, I love you, I love you'.

We left for work around eight-thirty. Strictly speaking, I wasn't back in for another couple of days. However, I decided to go in to get some paperwork done as I knew that if left much longer I wouldn't be able to move for it in my office.

When we arrived at the hospital the sky had turned grey and I could sense a storm coming. I sighed, thinking of all the extra patients we would have do deal with should that occur. Fallen trees, RTCs and broken hips all tripled when the weather was bad, and I felt I didn't have the energy to help out should I need to.

I told her I loved her again before we got out of the car, leaning over and placing a tender kiss on her lips. I was so elated to have her back by my side that I didn't care who might be peeking. She told me she loved me too and that she would meet me here at two-twenty for lunch.

Two-twenty.

She wasn't wrong.

"Have you seen my patient?" Her head poked around my office door with a light smile.

"I have been in here all day. So no," I smiled back.

She grinned. "I know that. Just wanted an excuse to see you." She winked.

I looked at the clock. It was quarter-to-two. "Half an hour and I'm all yours."

"Can't wait."

"Mrs Beauchamp?"

"Yes?"

"We've got a major incident. There's a man threatening to jump off the hospital roof. Police are on their way."

I stood up with a sigh and pulled on my jacket, praying that it would be over in time for lunch.

When I stepped outside I was met with a sharp wind. The sky was near black now and I thought I heard a faint rumble in the distance.

I saw Cal and strode over to him pointedly, shoving my cool fingers into my pockets.

"What's the latest?" I asked.

I didn't hear his reply. I glanced up to the top of the main building and saw the man standing on the edge, looking like a ghoul with his long white gown and his skinny figure. But I didn't pay much attention to him. I looked past him to see a small figure in blue, blonde hair splayed around her face with the wind, one hand reached tentatively outwards towards the patient.

My stomach dropped.

I felt winded, panicked, and I screamed at her to come down. I saw her head turn towards me, and then hastily back to the patient who was so dangerously teetering over the edge.

What happened next went so fast that I barely had time to register it. But still I remember it all too vividly.

First there was a shout from the man. I later learned that he had schizophrenia, and was screaming at the voices telling him to jump, jump, jump.

Then there was a foot dangling over the ledge, the bending of a knee, like the contracting of the spring.

And then there was the fall.

I still don't know how it happened. I go over that day in my head so often that I almost don't trust my memory any more. I suppose she must have reached out for him, to pull him back from the ledge, and missed, or slipped, or both.

She was my life, my light source, and she came down like a comet, all that life and all that spark blazing until she hit the ground with a sickening thud, and the light went out.

I instantly spring into action. There's no time for nerves, for emotions; she needs help now and she is going to get it.

We begin CPR almost immediately, shocking her right there on the tarmac. Her face is bleeding and her legs are twisted at an impossible angle. I stop my chest compressions momentarily to lift her lifeless form onto a trolley and run alongside it as we push her into resus.

A fast CT and ultrasound shows she has a pneumothorax and internal abdominal bleeding. They try to convince me otherwise, but I ignore them and continue to prep her for surgery right here and now.

Sliding the scalpel across the smooth skin of her stomach is one of the hardest things I have experienced, and I shock myself with how precise I manage to be. I go into a sort of shutdown mode. In that moment, I am a surgeon, and only a surgeon. I have no feelings, no attachments. Everything is numb.

It takes a couple of attempts to find the bleed, and even longer to stem it. Still Robyn pounds away at her chest, tears falling down her cheeks as she goes. We need to do the chest drain as soon as possible, and so I quickly finish up to give Cal better access to insert the needle.

We have been going twenty-five minutes now, and everyone is looking at me with grave faces. I refuse to give in to it, ordering them to continue.

Then Charlie takes over, and he tells them to stop. I yell at him to listen, to try one more shock. He looks at me through sympathetic, pitying eyes and tells Cal to charge the defibrillator one final time.

I hold my breath. My hard mask has fallen away now and I can feel everything. I sob loudly, unable to stop, my hand clasped against my mouth.

"She's back in sinus."

Everyone gasps, and I watch helplessly as everyone else begins to rally around her. All I can do is watch as her SATS and her BP rise, and a slight pinkish tint comes back into her cheeks.

Alive.

A miracle.

But miracles are the stuff of fantasy, of desperation. The hope that in one good event you can grasp on to the feeling forever by linking it to a higher power.

The sheets next to me are cold and empty, and so am I. I don't believe in miracles.

Especially now.

I was paralysed, unable to move as the world leaped into action and I stayed stock still. All my mind would stay on was her. The face that had once held so much life, so much beauty, was gone. She landed face down on the tarmac, and when they rolled her over I could barely recognise her but for those eyes, hauntingly open and staring towards the black sky.

They lifted her hurriedly onto a trolley. She was completely and utterly broken in a way that I had only seen once or twice in my career. It was as though the bones had disappeared from her limbs and her hips jutted out unnaturally from the impact.

I felt bile and acid rising in my throat and I swallowed forcefully.

She disappeared through the double doors and I still didn't move. I couldn't. My eyes remained on the large blood stain in the spot she had just vacated. I felt tears slowly begin to drip down my cheeks to my chin, the black of my mascara dripping down and staining my white blouse.

When I finally came to my senses I ran straight to resus, pushing and shoving my way through patients and staff and police. As I burst through the door I stopped dead.

The machines were switched off, and her oxygen removed.

My legs felt like jelly and I was cold all over. I saw Charlie step over to me as my vision blackened and my stomach lurched. He held me up firmly by the elbow to stop me falling as my knees buckled and my stomach emptied violently. I screamed and I cried and I fought, finding my feet just long enough to stumble over to where her empty body lay.

Her hair was matted with blood and asphalt, and the skin of her face grazed and raw. I kissed every inch of it. I tasted blood on my lips and I could feel it smearing across my cheeks and my chin but I didn't care. My chest felt as though it had been torn open and nothing mattered but her lying there before me.

They sedated me after that. Charlie told me afterwards that I was in such a state that I didn't even notice anyone else was in the room, never mind talking to me or pumping me full of lorazepam.

When I woke everything was numb.

It still is, really.

It has now been four months since she died, and I take Prozac every evening just so that I can get out of bed the next morning.

I still haven't made it back to work.

I imagine them talking about me, about how I had fallen apart. I would be the horror story they told all the new students, the whisper in the corridor, the one they all walked on eggshells around.

I couldn't handle that.

I hope to return one day, but for now it's too much. I want to focus on life, on my daughter. She's flying over next month and I hope we can come to an agreement and that she can stay for good. I have all the time in the world to spend with her now, and I want to.

And I savour the nightmares, the dreams where she is so hateful and so angry and so hurt but alive. Any sick image my dreams conjured up, any hateful words she spat at me, were all bearable because even momentarily I was under the illusion that she was still breathing, that I could still reach out and feel her standing there before me.

I love her.

And the world crashes around me as I realise again and again.

She's gone.

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