Nikki

I didn't know before Mexico. Ok, maybe I did, but I never knew how much.

It was only then, the time I nearly lost him, - or rather when he nearly lost me in Mexico, that I realized. And then again, today, when I thought I'd lost him

There he was, lying helpless at my feet. And he's such a cute guy – always has been, and with a bewildered look on his face, frightened even.

He'd been unlucky so many times before,so have I. I've always known that what he told me isn't true. He's not a bad man - he couldn't hurt a fly!

He asked me once if I thought he was charming. Just a passing comment, out of humor more than anything else. I didn't answer – I couldn't. The truth is, he is charming, but I've always thought it was wrong to think that about him. He's my best friend.

Mexico changed us – our relationship. I suppose that's not surprising. It was a pretty big thing – and I nearly died.

Then there was the way I tricked him. He's angry with me for that – even if he won't admit to it. He's equally angry for allowing himself to be tricked. He knows me so well, and he should have known better. Making him save the others instead of me was a very 'Nikki' move. We used to flirt all the time, but it's different now. It's like our relationship has taken a step forward – or back. I'm not sure which. Still, the one thing I know is – our relationship is like no other – and whatever it is, I wouldn't call it a friendship any more.

Most of the time we don't like each other.

Since I came back to work after Mexico – too early in his opinion, we've not been getting on. Today for example, he was so irritating, but it made me want him. It was as though he was deliberately trying to wind me up. He probably was.

It was making me so angry, but I couldn't help but feel attracted to him and all I wanted to do was kiss him. We spent all day winding each other up, arguing and flirting whenever we were alone in the room. It was like before in a way – but different. We didn't argue before – well, not as much, and not deliberately, to wind each other up.

I think Clarissa knows. She gives me a sly wink whenever his back is turned – he caught her once and had a go at her. I stood up for her – which started another argument, because he immediately complained that we were ganging up on him. We just keep arguing and flirting – it's kind of fun. I can tell he enjoys it.

And I've never wanted anyone so much.

It's strange – before Mexico, he'd give me little digs, jokingly. If anyone else did that I'd be in a bad mood for hours, but when it was him, I didn't mind. I do now. Sort of.

But back then when he had a dig , he smiled at me. It was all a big joke to him and I found it adorable.

I think when it started to irritate me, I was annoyed with myself. I didn't understand why my best friend made me feel like that.

I didn't understand the butterflies.

'Nikki, will you bloody hurry up – before I die of old age.'

A bad choice of words – possibly, considering how close I came to dying in Mexico. I really wanted to slap him. Is it possible to love and hate someone so much all at once? I never thought so – until now.

We argue and flirt all the time and I particularly enjoy the arguing. He's incredibly sexy when he's challenging me. It gives me another reason to flirt with him.

I think Thomas knows too – despite his dry comments along the lines of 'Can you two just get on with each other for a few minutes?!'

We were at a scene when it happened – Simon Laing had jumped over the balcony at the hospital – jumped or was pushed. Or it could be neither.

Jack was heading upstairs - looking for evidence. I heard him cry out. He must have slipped in the water someone dropped on the stairs. I was still angry with him, but I heard him yell from outside, and I couldn't ignore it. I knew it was him.

I ran to him as fast as I could – pushing away the people who had crowded around him.

I called his name, stroked his face.

Kissed his closed eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his forehead.

Nothing.

I kissed his lips, he stirred.

Slowly, but stirring from his fall-induced slumber, nonetheless.

'Nikki' he mumbled.

I was so happy to hear his voice, I burst in to tears.

'I'm right here, Jack, I'm not going no where.' Ok, so that was bad grammar, but grammar isn't high on my list of priorities right now.

'Anywhere'

It was another mumble, but I heard it. If he hadn't been lying helpless in my arms at the time, I would have probably slapped him. Instead, I whispered softly, 'Shut up'.

There was a pause – and then a further mumble.

'I'm not dead then?'

'No,apparently not - unless I'm dead too.' I answered and kissed him again.

'Are you sure you're not?'

'Pretty sure' I replied, 'Why?'

'Thought I might be in heaven' he reasoned.

I thought about it and asked 'And you can't be in heaven when you're alive? Anyway, I thought you didn't believe in heaven.'

'Guess I do now.' he answered, and for the first time since he woke, smiled at me.

I thought that was it – nothing could break us apart again. I was wrong.

It's been a few weeks since Jack fell down the stairs. He was lucky in that his injuries were minor and he's back to work now. Like I said, I thought this would bring us closer – but then I thought that about Mexico as well. It didn't work then – and it hasn't worked now. We're arguing worse than before – and I've threatened to leave on more than one occasion. He just laughs at me – it's infuriating and I want to slap him, but it doesn't stop me wanting to kiss him – which makes me furious at myself to.

He rubs me up the wrong way and he's horrible. I don't understand it. He's taken to staring at me when I'm not looking directly at him. He thinks I haven't noticed. It's a kind of longing stare. Longing for me. And I love it. I love it.

So why does he shout at me all the time?

I want him to smile at me. I want him to hold me. I want him to kiss me, but most of all: I want him to tell me.

I want to hear him say it. Say how much wants me, how much he loves me.

And I want to be the only one he sees.

Something happened today. One of the assistants was carrying some heavy machinery we use for postmortems. It's meant to be on a trolley – but the trolley had a broken wheel, so he decide to carry it into the cutting room instead. Anyway, he wasn't concentrating and he dropped the machine – which smashed – and it hit me as it fell, knocking me off my feet.

I'm not gonna lie, it hurt when it hit me – and again when I hit the floor. I was a bit winded, but otherwise just bruised. Luckily for me, Thomas was paying attention and he grabbed the head saw off me, when I lost my balance – otherwise, that could have been nasty.

Jack was leaning against the window in the viewing room, watching the postmortem and enjoying a cup of coffee with Clarissa when it happened. He dropped his drink and yelled my name when he saw me falling. Clarissa dropped hers too, but I think that was Jack suddenly yelling, she had her back to me and was poring over her laptop at the time.

I overheard them being ticked off by Thomas for the coffee stains on the relatively new carpet afterwards. Jack's responded was that I was 'more important than the bloody carpet' – which Thomas had to agree with.

After I fell, he was by my side in seconds. He'd gone very pale, kept stroking my back and asking if I was okay. He barked at the assistant to phone an ambulance – which I immediately stopped. I didn't need one. I was fine.

He was so sweet though - and I admit that when he insisted on carrying me back to our office, once I'd persuaded him I was ok, I might have snuggled up to him a bit.

I love being close to him and I think he liked it too.

He went back to being rude and unpleasant when he'd accepted I was ok. Still, its progress and I know why he keeps shouting at me. He doesn't want to admit his true feelings – they scare him.

It's called denial.