Isobel looked at the mess in front of her and inhaled... "Damn it." she cussed as she exhaled, tears stinging.

She truly felt like crying and it's been bubbling inside her since this morning. Nothing was going right, the romantic breakfast in bed was rudely tossed aside as her husband was called to tend to an elderly patient miles from where they lived and she has not seen him since. At least he knew how to cheer her up. Then she was bulldozed over by Milena Marks, a barrel-like ox of a woman who called herself a nurse and came from Yorkshire county hospital with Dr. Vetts to assess the current situation in the cottage hospital and ruin her life, finding fault in everything she did, from rosters to treatments. She made it clear that regardless of what Dickie said, her position would be filled by someone else once the takeover was complete. Dickie might have contacts but it would mean nothing once three quarters of the committee in York outvoted his stooges.

This was all her fault and not once did her husband blame her, not once did he point a finger at her. Probably because he understood what was about to happen and knew that watching her plan crumble was enough punishment which it was. As a military man he already had a couple of contingency plans. One was retirement, they where more than comfortable financially if such a move was required in absence of work. The second one was Thirsk Hospital which had not been taken over and Richard was owed quite a few favors, he was sure they'd take them.

It was the guilt that was eating away at her, knowing that she, blinded by money and machines of all things had set this wild animal lose. She and her friend Dickie who was nowhere to be found now that she had become a Clarkson. He left her and her husband carrying the can to pursue other interests in London while Violet, although surprisingly not saying anything - probably on orders from Richard - had never stopped glaring at her since the invasion started. She reserved her understanding glances to Isobel's new spouse and an old fellow warrior.

The nurse thought she'd put all this to one side and throw herself in household work. Not that Richard left her much to do, his independence made him a very congenial husband for a professional woman like her. Spotting the white laundry basket, she decided to do some ironing and everything was going well until, without even realizing it, she grabbed the the white monogrammed blanket and did not even look down until she heard the spark. Luckily she put the fire out but her relief was short lived when she realized that the blanket was a birthday present from Matthew when they first came to Yorkshire 'something to keep you warm up here mother!' he said with that smile of his. And she managed to ruin that too she thought, a sob escaping her lips.

She was so taken with her own sadness that she never heard the key turn in its lock.

Richard took a deep breath as he hung his hat and coat and tossed his bag near the sofa before shaking his wet hair and putting his hands out facing the fireplace. His relaxation was interrupted by the sound of sobbing coming from the kitchen. Covering the distance in about four steps, he opened the door to see his bride of three months sobbing into her hands behind an ironing board, of course he forgot she had the afternoon shift today! Something had clearly gone wrong if she was in this state. Placing his hands on her delicate shoulders he turned her around and let her wordlessly bury her face in his neck as he engulfed her in his arms. Glancing at the ironing board, he winced as he realized it was her very favorite blanket - the one Matthew had given her. Rubbing her back, he realised she must have been very upset if she was so distracted as to inflict such damage to an object so near to her heart.

"Hush, it's okay lass...the most important thing is that you're not hurt." he whispered soothingly in her ear.

"I'm so sorry." she sniffed.

"Not at all, darling." He guided her to the sofa, placing a kiss on her nose "Let me pour you a whiskey..."

That made her smile "whiskey would be nice, but do add water Richard, I cannot stand alcohol as well as you. You'll end up carrying me upstairs and if today has been any indication, I'll probably knock off and oil lamp on a rug with my foot."


AN: This will only be two chapters long as it is only a snapshot of what I envisage might happen late s6 or post s6 - hope you enjoyed the first chapter and let me know if you want the second :)