Sam lingered in the staff room after the shift long after everyone else had left. They'd asked her to join them in the pub but the invitation had been half hearted. No one actually expected her to accept because she never socialised with her colleagues and she hadn't joined them this time either. Instead she took advantage of the deserted staff room to empty the contents of her locker into her backpack in peace. She wanted to catch Dylan before she left and she knew he was still treating a patient. He wouldn't hand over to the next shift until he was sure his patient was stable.
She was growing impatient an hour later when he still hadn't finished. She'd read a BMJ that was 2 months old, a Nursing Times from a fortnight ago and a rather disgusting men's magazine featuring scantily clad females that someone probably Lenny had left lying around. What was Dylan doing? Surely Dervla was waiting for him. The poor dog was probably desperate for a walk and a wee. If he didn't hurry she'd have to go without seeing him and there were things she wanted to say before she left.
"Still here," Dylan said when he walked into the room ten minutes later.
"I needed to speak to you?" she moved to stand closer to him only stopping when she was near enough to reach out and touch him if only she dared.
"Couldn't you have spoken to me earlier rather than hang about after the shift," He sounded puzzled rather than annoyed.
"Not really no. There were too many other people around." Sam said quietly keeping one eye on the door in case someone tried to come in. She really didn't want to be interrupted now.
"Well spit it out then. I'm tired, hungry and I want to go home." Dylan replied testily.
Sam sucked in a deep breath and willed her voice to stay steady "That was my last shift. I've been posted back to Afghanistan – my flight's tomorrow."
She was guiltily aware that she'd made it sound as if she didn't have a choice when actually she'd asked for a new posting – knowing that the powers that be would almost certainly send her back to Helmand. But even Helmand - hell on earth though it was – was better than being an unforgiven technicality in Holby.
"You kept that quiet." His voice was expressionless and as usual she didn't have a clue what he was thinking.
"I didn't want any fuss. Thought I'd just walk away. It's easier that way," she said hastily
"Why change the habit of a lifetime" Dylan retorted "It's what you always do isn't it – walk away."
Sam swallowed hard fighting the sudden urge to cry. She really didn't want to leave it like this. She wasn't expecting any kind of reconciliation – that hope had died months ago but it would have been nice if they could have come to some sort of understanding.
"I didn't want to leave without telling you." She said steadily "and to say that if you're tired of having a technical wife. If you want to get a divorce, I won't stand in your way." She didn't give him a chance to speak before continuing, "I have to go now. I've a train to catch. Be happy."
"Bye Sam, look after yourself." She barely heard his response it was so faint and she was already turning and walking quickly away aware of him staring after her.
Drawing on all her army training she kept her head high, shoulders back, spine straight and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other because no one must know. No one must ever know what the words had cost her, not even Dylan - especially not Dylan. She had her pride after all.
He didn't call her back and he didn't try to follow her. She hadn't really expected him to. That wasn't Dylan's way but she didn't realise until that moment just how much she'd been holding on to the frail hope that he would. He was probably relieved to have got shot of her with so little bother. He hated emotion after all. She walked on towards the station ignoring her burning eyes and aching throat. This was it she realised the end of Holby. She didn't feel the relief she'd expected to feel, just a bone deep sadness that there was nothing left to stay for.