A/N: I've been re-watching some old episodes, and I think these two need a little love and attention. My time is limited, so I apologise for any errors!
Ric jabbed at the lift button angrily, but the doors continued to belligerently close at their own pace. He felt his irritation levels first peak, then subside slightly as he took a deep breath. One more word out of the mouth of that irritating little F1 and he would blow. His dislike of her had reached a pinnacle, such that every little habit she had, twisting that lock of hair round her finger, her little sighs, even the tone of her voice, was driving him crazy.
The lift stopped with a ping and he strode out into the dimly lit corridor, jogging up the last short flight of steps to the roof access door, anticipating the cool air that awaited.
A thought flickered through his head that he might not be the only person up there, but he didn't care. If there was someone else looking for solitude he would surely be able to send them running fairly quickly in his current state of mind.
As the refreshing breeze broke over his skin, he saw with relief that the space was empty.
He paused for a moment to enjoy the new sensation and closed his eyes.
It had been a long day. Every day was long at the moment, and not just in his imagination. With no one to go home to he had been allowing his shifts to drag on, sometimes rolling right over into the next. No one had noticed, or if they had they hadn't said anything. Hanssen would be pleased to get so much value for money out of his consultants, he thought bitterly.
He walked slowly to the familiar metal rail at the edge of the building and looked out across the city. A pang of regret that he hadn't called Jess for a while threatened to induce some guilty feelings, but he suppressed them. She didn't need him anymore, not really. He half smiled when he remembered the last conversation they had had. Jess had broached the subject with her usual lack of subtlety. "You need a woman, dad, come on, gone a few dates or something."
As if Mr Eric Griffin needed yet another woman to mess up his life. He couldn't bear the idea of it, meeting someone new, the chase, the excitement, the eventual heartbreak when they ran off with someone else or turned out to BE someone else… No, he did not need a woman. He just needed to keep his head down, keep working, and get on with his life.
A movement in his peripheral vision caused him to turn his head suddenly towards to the opposite wing of the hospital. There was a figure standing right on the other end of the roof, her long hair blowing a little in the wind. Probably just a nurse on her break. He turned back to his own view of the world, but something made him look again. Just his luck if she was an escaped psych patient about to launch herself off the edge. He sighed and headed towards her, navigating the pipes and ladders that lay between them.
As he drew closer he noticed a few things that he hadn't previously registered. Her long legs in those skin-tight trousers, her narrow but perfectly contoured hips. And finally, her shoes. Her very high, very expensive looking heeled shoes.
He stopped suddenly, but it was too late, she turned, having heard his approaching footsteps. She looked at him, and for a moment there was such emptiness in her eyes that he wondered if she even recognised him, ridiculous as that may be.
"Mrs Beauchamp." He muttered, making the final steps towards her, expecting a response, but she turned away from him.
"Connie?" He asked, louder, a little confused.
She sighed and turned to face him, and he could see that she had wiped away the tears that were falling, but hadn't done a very good job. A little smudged eyeliner was giving her away. He fought the urge to reach out and touch her, to comfort her, but that was not wise with Connie Beauchamp. The best way to tackle this situation, as he had learnt from experience many years ago, was to let her get whatever anger she had out of her system, maybe ask a couple of gentle, pertinent questions, and then let her breeze off on the understanding that their conversation had never happened.
"I hear you work in the ED now." He said cautiously, trying to find some safe ground.
"Come on Ric, you know I work in the ED, I have done for 2 years now. We've been in meetings together."
He pursed his lips thoughtfully.
"We haven't spoken in that time though. I did invite you for a drink when you came back. You didn't reply to my email."
"I assumed it was a group thing." She said flippantly, though they both knew it wasn't true. She turned away from him again and Ric knew that he needed to make a choice between getting involved in whatever she was upset about or walking safely away.
"Ok, Connie, I can see you're upset. So what is it? What's wrong?" He said finally, taking the plunge. He regretted his confrontational approach almost immediately, cursing his earlier irritability.
She turned back to him slowly, her eyes shining but her face taught with anger.
"I don't need your pity, Ric. Save it for yourself." She snapped, walking sharply away.
The words cut him like a knife, but Ric tried to shake them off. He knew her well enough not to be offended. Connie Beauchamp's iron-clad defensive walls were up, and she was retaliating. He considered his next move. He would wait for her to go back to her office; there was no point rushing after her when she was like this. He could probably get most of the answers from the hospital grapevine; that would give him some advantage in dealing with her.
Ric checked himself mentally. Why did he care how the Ice Queen felt? It didn't matter to him anymore. She certainly didn't give a damn about him. A little voice inside his head disagreed. It did matter, somehow. Since Connie had come back to Holby, she wasn't the same person. After everything that had happened to her over the years, the ups and downs, Michael nearly destroying her, nearly losing Grace, every adversity had seemed to make her stronger, but that wasn't the case now. It didn't sit right with him. It wasn't natural.
If he was honest, he might also acknowledge that this was a pretty good distraction from the mundane routine of his own tired life. He headed inside to call in a few favours.