Missing scene from Series 1 Episode 2, answering the prompt:The first time Richard realises he wants more from his relationship with Isobel.

As he was accustomed to doing with all guests to the hospital- particularly her,though it was debatable now whether or not she was really a guest, she seemed to be installing herself quite firmly as part of the fixtures of the place- he escorted her to the front door when she announced that she thought she had better be getting along. They stepped out together into the coolness of the afternoon air, the breeze brushing them both sharply around the face. He heard her give the slightest intake of breath, but her face showed no sign of discomfort. For another moment they stood there in silence.

"Well," he began, a little hesitantly, weighing his words very carefully, "It seems I have a lot to be grateful to you for, Mrs Crawley."

"Nonsense," she replied, a little sharply but smiling, "I pursued the only course that I could justify taking in a professional capacity. I don't require any gratitude at all."

"You saved Drake's life," he told her, and then, turning a little more towards her, and in a lower voice, "You saved me from losing Drake's life."

Her eyes narrowed a little and a small smile widened on her lips. He wondered for a moment if she thought he was joking, but when she spoke it was without any tone of jest.

"I don't believe that," she replied, "I don't believe you couldn't have saved him without me. You said yourself, my way was riskier."

"Your way proved much more effective," he returned.

She bowed her head a little; there was no arguing with that. She did not respond to his praise. Her eyes cast down at the grey paving stone at the top of the step. Some of the loose blonde-brown strands of her hair fluttered in the breeze; buoyed by the air, half naturally curling. Then her head flicked back upwards.

"Still," she told him, her voice firm, "I don't require any gratitude, Dr. Clarkson. More than anything it's me who ought to be thanking you."

"Oh?" He could not deny that this surprised him.

"It does me good to feel like I can be of use," she confided in him, "That sounds very indulgent, perhaps, but it's-..."

"A lifesaver, at times?" he finished for her.

She smiled, gave a little laugh.

"Well, if you like," she replied, "I was just going to settle for true, to be honest with you."

There was a brief silence.

"Well-..."

"Tell me if I'm being too forward, Doctor."

He inclined his head, his curiosity most certainly piqued.

"Certainly."

"Does this mean that my help might be welcome in the future? That I could come back?"

"Oh, Mrs Crawley," his voice was low, he wondered if she noticed, because he had a feeling he knew why, "You may come back and come back. As often as you like."

She smiled, though a little uncertainly at his reply. But a second later she extended her hand for him to shake.

"Well, then," she told him, "I shall come back. Gladly."

Her smile widened consolingly as he took her hand and shook it. Her grip was firm, not too much but enough for him to feel her fingers very definitely through her glove. Unless he was mistaken their hands lingered together for a moment as their grips loosened, holding close for a last second.

"Goodbye, Mrs Crawley," he forced himself to speak, trying to make his voice come out normally.

"Goodbye," she replied smiling again as she descended the steps, "But I shall see you soon."

And the only thing he could think as he watched her retreating figure was, resoundingly, Dear God I hope so.

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