A/N: This is the sequel to to soothe A Soul.
True Confessions
When Connie awoke early the next morning, she lay perfectly still for a while, simply reveling in the feeling of being in bed with someone, after sleeping in their arms for the whole entire night. This was something she so rarely did, that it was an experience she would always make the most of if given the chance. But, eventually deciding that she couldn't stay here for ever, she gently disentangled herself from Ric's still soundly sleeping form, left the cosy haven of his bed and put her clothes on. When she was dressed, she leaned over him and softly kissed his cheek. When Ric lazily opened his eyes, she said, "I've got to go." Turning onto his back to look up at her, Ric stretched luxuriously. He'd had such a deep, sound sleep, in spite of the events of yesterday. "Why?" He asked, sounding so childishly petulant that it made her smile. "Because," She told him, as he gently pulled her to lie against his chest, putting his arms round her to hold her in place. "I have no desire whatsoever, to destroy my professional reputation, by turning up to work in the same clothes as yesterday. There are those, Mr. Griffin, who would undoubtedly notice such a display of impropriety." "If you say so," He grudgingly agreed. "And I suppose I'll be receiving a summons by the head mistress, to account for my actions involving Professor Khan." "Well, let me be the one to tell him, but I'm going to give you both a few days to calm down before doing that." "That's unusually charitable of you," He said as she detached herself from him and rose to her feet. "Enjoy it while it lasts," She said, picking up her handbag and making for the door. "I'll see you later."
A good while later as Ric strolled into work, he wondered how he was going to react to working with Zubin. They couldn't simply avoid each other, that was impossible, but he didn't really want to share any air space with him if he didn't have to. His feelings were still so raw about what Zubin had done to Jess, and in truth, he really had no idea how he was supposed to deal with them. Jess was his daughter, his little girl, and all he had ever wanted to do was to protect her, but it seemed that even that utterly futile wish was now out of his grasp. As if his thoughts had somehow conjured her up, Jess came walking up behind him, as he made his way along the ground floor corridor towards the lift. "Dad," She said, coming up to him. Turning to face her, he could see the shadows of worry under her eyes, a sign that she really didn't need all this at the moment. "Are you all right?" He asked, laying a brief hand on her shoulder and scrutinizing her face. "Shouldn't it be me asking you that, after yesterday?" She replied, hoping that he wasn't about to be too angry with her. "Oh, I'm fine," He said very dismissively. "I'm probably due for a slap on the wrist from Cruella the Commandante, but I'll cope." Jess just stared at him. If she didn't know better, she'd have said that he looked almost fond of Connie as he'd talked about his upcoming warning, but no, that couldn't be, not in a million years. "Zubin really isn't worth it, Dad," Jess told him gently. "I really thought he was once, but not any more." "It happened while I was in Paris, didn't it," Ric wanted to know, though at the same time not wanting to know. "Yeah," Jess said regretfully. "I felt pretty bad about that," She added after a moment. "Donna saw me and told me you were there, or I'd have probably walked straight up to you, before realising you were with Zubin." "Jess, I feel as though everyone knew about it but me." "Very few people knew, really, Dad. Sean only found out yesterday." "Just tell me one thing," Ric said, stopping for a moment and pulling her into the side, away from the bustling traffic of hospital staff. "Why couldn't you tell me? Not just about this, but about Leo's baby, about anything important that's ever happened to you?" "Are you seriously telling me you don't know the answer to that?" Jess asked him, thinking that he ought to be able to work this out for himself. But when his reply didn't appear to be forthcoming, she spelled it out to him. "Dad, I didn't tell you about this, or about Leo's baby, because I didn't want you to start gambling again." Ric stood and stared at her, a whole rush of feelings surging through him from pain, to humiliation, to anger, and finally resulting in the most intense feeling of failure he'd ever experienced. His daughter was standing here, telling him that she hadn't felt able to confide in him about one of the most important events of her life, because she didn't want him to revert to his old ways. "Don't look like that," Jess told him gently, seeing every emotion playing across his face. "Ever since you stopped, well over a year ago now, you've done really well to stay away from it, and I am so proud of you for that. I know I've never said so, and I probably should have done before now, but I am, because I know just how hard it was for you to give up." "I'm sorry," Ric told her with such sincerity that it brought brief tears to Jess's eyes. "I'm sorry that I've been such a useless and unreliable father." Jess was about to say something, though in truth she couldn't entirely contradict his assertion, but his pager saved her the trouble. "I have to go," Ric told her, after reading the display. "Dad, just be careful," She said, calling after him as he walked rapidly towards the lift.
Later that morning, Connie and Zubin were in the Darwin theatre, operating on a pregnant woman to repair one of her heart valves. They were maintaining an icy silence, except for the routine demands for an instrument, or the reports on the patient's vital signs. But when the woman began to go into premature labour, Connie curtly told Zubin to get Owen down there immediately. "Anything you say, Mrs. Beauchamp," Zubin replied with forced sweetness, barely suppressing the urge to tell her to do it herself. When Owen appeared, he could feel the undercurrent of their argument immediately, though he wasn't remotely acquainted with the subject of it. "So," Zubin asked conversationally, as Owen began preparing to deliver the baby. "Are you going to enlighten us all as to how you swayed the board yesterday?" "It's hardly my fault that they all have a lot more sense than you give them credit for," Connie replied stonily, her eyes bent to her task. "Or did you simply seduce Joanna Hopkins onto your side as well as most of the men." "Well, seeing as women weren't my cup of tea, the last time I checked," Connie told him blithely. "I'd say that was something of an impossibility, wouldn't you?" "Connie, I wouldn't put anything past you to get precisely what you want," Zubin said bitterly, with Owen looking on in bemused curiosity. "Ah, well, there you and I appear to differ," She continued, ignoring Owen's presence in favour of her growing row. "Because I don't happen to make it my pastime, to seduce those who are not in a position to know better. Registrars who are perfectly capable of making their own mistakes are fine, but student nurses who are young enough to be my daughter, and who still haven't grown out of the ideal world of adolescent infatuation, definitely not." Owen gave her the ghost of a smile over his mask, being well and truly aware of her brief dalliance with Mubbs, and more than a little curious to know what Zubin had been up to in his spare time. "That is absolutely none of your business," Zubin hissed in rising fury. "Oh really," Connie drawled menacingly. "So, you wouldn't care to put in a complaint about the black eye you are currently sporting?" "Yeah, I was wondering who gave you that," Owen put in, finding their antics for the moment amusing. "Go on," Connie encouraged. "Why don't you enlighten Mr. Davis as to just how you managed to acquire your most recent facial adornment, because I know that with his past liaisons having often been the subject of hospital gossip, Mr. Davis will be delighted to hear how you've upped the stakes in entirely unrecommended sexual behaviour." "Connie, don't you ever take no for an answer?" Zubin demanded hotly, not wanting his private life to become as publicly discussed as Owen's had been in the past. "Not when I'm well and truly in the right, no, I don't," She replied with a smile, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. "Then why are you doing this? Is this your first crack of the whip, following your momentary reprieve of yesterday?" "Well, seeing as I'm not into that whole mistress slave scenario thing, no, I'm not cracking any whip. Though if necessary, I suppose you could always find some road side tart to do that for you." This last jibe was uttered so sweetly, but with so much bite, that Zubin felt sure Ric had told her about his once having been to a prostitute. Feeling the flaming blush suffuse his face, he desperately tried to think up a retort. "Is this a private argument between friends," Owen asked conversationally. "Or can anyone join in?" "Oh, nothing remotely friendly about this particular argument," Connie told him without hesitation. "Professor Khan is simultaneously trying to play the games of hospital politics and of righting one night's mistake, and is sadly failing at both." "Then do the two of you mind leaving it outside?" Owen asked, having had quite enough of their persistent sniping. "Because I think this baby would appreciate being born with a little peace and quiet." "As you wish," Connie replied, not wanting to get Owen's back up as well. "But you will see me immediately following this operation, in my office, Professor Khan. Is that clear?" "Crystal, Mrs. Beauchamp, crystal."
When Zubin dutifully appeared in her office some time later, Connie leant back in her chair, stretched her legs out in front of her, and regarded him with total contempt. "What I ought to do," She said, gazing stonily back at him across her desk. "Is to read both you and Ric the riot act, tell you to take your pathetic, schoolboy squabble somewhere else, and to warn you both as to your future conduct. However, I think we both know, that this goes an awful lot deeper, than some pathetically puerile punch over a pencil case. So, I am going to give you both a few days, to calm down, and cool down, before issuing you both with a written warning, as I would prefer that you both take the threat of dismissal seriously, rather than casting it into the nearest bin. Now, would you care to tell me your side of the story? Understand that I do not wish to hear it, but that I must, if I am to keep in line with hospital policy." "You know why he did it," Zubin replied bitterly, feeling as though he were fourteen again, and being summoned to account for some minor indiscretion. "Ric is somewhat unhappy, that I am the father of his grandchild." "According to him," Connie said disbelievingly. "You say you love Jess Griffin, so perhaps I ought to be dealing with this as if you were still an adolescent child, determined to keep the toy that you want no one else to have. But then, in the eyes of someone who used to sleep with high class call girls, I suppose that a silly little girl who doesn't know what she wants out of life, would appear to be the embodiment of that feeling that most of us never actually find." "How do you know about that?" Zubin asked, a feeling of abject embarrassment crawling over him. "I know a lot of things, Professor Khan," Connie told him sweetly. "Well, I'm certainly learning a lot of things anyway, and do you know something, most of it only makes me despise you even more." "So, what else did he tell you?" Zubin asked dejectedly, thinking that Ric was achieving the perfect revenge by doing this. "Ah, now wouldn't that be interesting," Connie mused with a smile, getting up from her chair and beginning to prowl round her office, giving Zubin the feeling of being stalked by a particularly vicious cat. "Well, if you're not going to enlighten me," Zubin continued, desperately trying to regain the upper hand. "Precisely why are we both being issued with a written warning, when Ric was the only one to raise his fists, because I promise you, Connie, that if I get so much as a sniff, that you are being remotely unprofessional about all this, you'll be writing out your resignation for real." "That threat didn't work last time, Professor Khan, so I'd say it was getting a little old hat now, don't you think?" "What are you getting out of this, Connie?" He asked her, changing tack to try and throw her off course. "What I may, or may not be getting out of a gradually developing friendship, Professor Khan, is absolutely none of your business," She told him firmly. "Well, I'll tell you one thing that might successfully put a spoke in your wheel," Zubin said almost delightedly. "If there's one thing Ric hates, it's being the last to know something. Precisely how do you think he'd feel, to realise that a so-called friend, had known about myself and his daughter, since last August, barely before it had even begun, in fact." Connie was extremely careful not to let her face betray the sense of foreboding she was feeling, because this would have made him triumphant with the prospect of winning. Walking very slowly up to him, Connie stood almost nose-to-nose with him, taking in every angle of his face, as well as every inch of his body that she could see from this position. "If I had the time, Professor Khan," She almost purred. "I would feel more loathing for you, than I ever have done for anyone else in my life. God knows what Jess Griffin saw in you, because it couldn't possibly have been the lust for an attractive older man, that most of us feel at some point in our twenties. Now, while I have your attention, let me get one thing straight. I am no longer willing, to put up with your continual assassination of my character, whether that be in front of colleagues in theatre, or in private. Your feeble attempts to inhabit the moral high ground, have patently failed, and I would urge you to desist in your belief in yourself as a living angel beyond reproach. I am well aware of my faults, and it is about time that you became aware of yours. Both you and Mr. Griffin will be receiving a formal written warning, as a lesson to you both to leave your arguments and prejudices at home where they belong. Yes, I will be giving the pair of you, the most humiliating rap over the knuckles that you'll have ever had in your lives, and to make it all the more memorable, you will endure this together. Now, until I decide that the time is right for that little confrontation, I want to hear no more of this in my hospital. Now get out." All this had been delivered in such a cool, calm, and deadly quiet tone, that Zubin found himself taking in every word, almost as though she had hypnotised him. Without further delay, he turned on his heel, and slunk out of her office, feeling every indignant hackle rising to her threat.
When Zubin had gone, Connie sat back down behind her desk. She'd knew she'd done her damnedest to maintain her dignity in front of Zubin, but she was now forced to admit to herself, that at least one thing he'd said was right. Ric did need to know that she had already known about Jess and Zubin's affair. She hated to have to do this to him, especially while their friendship was still so tenuous, but she resigned herself to the fact that the longer she stayed silent on the matter, the worse it would eventually be. Last night, all she had wanted to do, was to be there for him, to listen, to talk when necessary, and above all, to care. That's what was different about her, about this, the fact that she actively wanted to care, to care how someone felt, to care about what they were going through. The massage she'd given him, plus what had come after, was simply a part of that, an extension of her caring in the only way she knew how. She didn't want to feel as though she'd betrayed his trust, but she did, and she knew this was ridiculous. It hadn't been her place to tell him about his daughter and Zubin, and even if it had, he would never have believed her. This is what she would have to tell him, she supposed, but she couldn't possibly admit to looking forward to the exchange. In a moment of blind, incandescent irritation, she picked up the nearest, heaviest book from her desk, and swearing violently, hurled it hard at the back of her office door.
But when the door opened, to reveal the person of her thoughts, she watched in appalled fascination as the book continued to sail towards him. Ric had been walking passed her office door, and had heard her exclamation of fury, raising his eyebrows in a slight smile at her colourful vocabulary. But when he opened the door and just caught sight of the book whistling towards him, he reflexively put out a hand and halted it in its tracks. "Are you all right?" He asked, closing the door behind him and laying the book back on the desk. "No, not really," She said regretfully, wishing she could bury her head in the sand over this, and not have to face his inevitable feeling of betrayal. "There's something I need to tell you, something that I ought to have told you last night, but the right opportunity never quite presented itself." "Connie, you're rambling," He told her, seeing a look of intense uncertainty on her face. Getting up from her desk, Connie moved round it and sat down at one end of her leather sofa. When Ric sat down beside her, she took both of his hands in hers, gently chafing them between her own. Oh, for god's sake, she thought after a few moments contented silence, just do it, just say it and deal with the consequences afterwards. "Ric, you need to be aware, that I also knew about Jess and Zubin, long, long before you did." His hands went rigidly still in hers, but he didn't attempt to remove them. "That figures," He said a little coldly. "You know everything that goes on in this hospital, so I suppose I should have known." "I'm not omnipotent, Ric, at least not yet," She told him with a slight smile. "How long have you known?" "Since last august," She said quietly, realising just how much of a shock this was going to be for him. "Last August?" He repeated in astonishment. "I had no idea it had been going on that long. So, that's why he left for Paris in the first place." "Yes, I think so. I challenged him about it at the time, but he denied it." "So, is there any particular reason why you didn't tell me, or is this just becoming something of a habit with every single person I know." His voice had barely risen, but she could hear the anger resonating in every syllable. "Ric, this was absolutely none of my business. It had nothing whatsoever to do with me, and apart from the highly useful little tool of blackmail it gave me, I really would rather not have known." Then, when she saw his raised eyebrow, she added, "I used it as something to successfully hold over Professor Khan, to ensure his co-operation with the Working Time Directive." Ric laughed mirthlessly. "Well, I suppose there is some justice in the world," He said bitterly. "At least he didn't get away with it entirely unscathed. I admire your ingenuity, Connie, even if the reasons behind it leave a lot to be desired." "Ric, I've never pretended to have a moral scruple in my life, it's you, and everyone else who appears to expect me to have them. I'm not especially proud of using your daughter's involvement with Professor Khan to my advantage, but when the underhand methods arrived in my grasp, it seemed only fitting to use them." "I wish you'd told me this last night," He said, not entirely knowing what he was supposed to feel. "I know," She said quietly. "And I wish I had too. Ric, I... I don't want..." She stopped, unable to admit to her own, highly precarious feelings on what was slowly growing between them, and not knowing how to explain this to him. Getting up from the sofa, she began walking round her office, eventually standing with her back to him, looking out of the window. "I don't want you to retract the title of friend, just because of this," She said eventually, feeling her cheeks flush with the sheer inadequacy of the remark. "Connie," He said soberly. "I might take that wish a little more seriously, if you were to actually turn around, and say it to me, rather than saying it to a pane of glass." Whirling round just as he'd hoped she would, she said almost desperately, "I am trying so hard to get this right, because I don't have the faintest idea what being nice to someone on a regular basis, or really caring for them actually entails. I will get it wrong, no matter how hard I try, because I really do not know what I'm doing, and that is not something I admit lightly. Yes, I should have told you last night that I'd known, but I didn't, and I'm sorry." Her voice had risen, taking on that sharp, brittle edge that had become ever more familiar since Will's death. "I feel," Ric began, also having difficulty in formulating his response. "I feel as though I don't know what anything's supposed to mean any more." Connie knew that he wasn't talking about her, which gave her a sincere feeling of relief. "Zubin, and his at times fatherly interest in my children, has always been a constant, something that would never change, either for them, or for me. Zubin has, completely ruined that, and they can't ever go back to the way they were again. I feel as though everything I know about my children, and about my friend, has gone." "I know," She said, sitting back down beside him and taking his hand. "Which is why I am still here, which is why you are talking to me, and why I want you to talk to me. You won't feel remotely normal, for probably quite a long time, so unless you actively push me away, I'm not going anywhere."
Ric spent the rest of the day thinking about what Connie had said to him, and again and again the question arose of whether he really could trust her. Was Connie the reliable type? He didn't think so if he was honest with himself, but then who was he to talk. Connie wasn't really the issue though, merely the finishing candle on a cake already centre deep with feelings of failure, distrust, and rage. He needed to regain some normality in his life, to return to something he knew, something that in this desperate state of mind, he believed would never let him down. The craving burnt inside him like a particularly aggressive gastric ulcer, but it was a familiar sensation, something he had clung to for the greater part of his life. He needed that lift to the spirit, the blinding flash of clarity, the one, final act of desperate stupidity that would take him back to the Ric Griffin he used to know. Borrowing fifty quid from his soon to be son-in-law, and promising faithfully to pay him back next week, Ric left his shift at the end of the day, his entire mind focussed in on satisfying the dull ache, that only the roulette wheel might appease.