A/N: Just something I came up with while I have the cold and I can't talk and therefore cannot go to school. I got into registration yesterday and at the end, Miss Grenet said to me, "Take the register to the office for me and go to the sick bay while you're at it." School was a waste of time then. Oh well. Doesn't get me out of housework though.

Sarah x

Jac heard her name being called from the top of the stairs, by the one man she knew would see through her today. She was hurting, and she was well aware that Henrik Hanssen was possibly the most observant person in the hospital. Slowly, she allowed herself to turn around to face him. She did not want to, but she knew she had to. Otherwise, he would know for sure that something was wrong with her.

Hanssen approached Jac slowly and stood directly in front of her on the landing. "I have a major heart surgery later today and I would like you to assist me," he told her matter-of-factly. It took her by surprise; normally Sahira would assist Hanssen. And then she remembered seeing them talking in the corridor, Sahira looking defiant and Hanssen looking surprised. She must have refused. Jac knew why: Sahira's patient had been due for surgery tomorrow and hers was supposed to be today, but Sahira's patient deteriorated so they swapped slots. It was as simple as that.

"Yes, of course, Mr. Hanssen," she agreed emotionlessly. She caught his piercing stare and trued her best to keep her cool with him. Losing her temper with this man was a very bad idea. "Something else?" demanded as politely as she could.

"You," he accused gently, "have been crying, Miss Naylor." She was taken aback by his simple statement, and the way there was a strange layer of concern hidden within his tone. She looked at him, demanding to know the reasoning behind that claim. He seemed to realise this because he added, "There are red marks under your eyes, probably because you have been wiping them all day."

Hanssen sat down on the stairs and waited for Jac to join him. When she simply stared at him, he told her firmly, "Sit down, Miss Naylor." She obeyed and hesitantly paced herself next to him, leaving a fair amount of space between her and the Swede. This was an unusual thing to happen, and both of them knew it. In many ways, they understood that they were almost identical: the sarcasm, the guardedness, the inability to form any kind of relationship. "So, what has reduced the Ice Queen of Darwin Ward to tears?" he asked her quietly as she gave a small smile at her 'title.'

"It's nothing," she deflected quickly. He knew nothing of her past and she would have much preferred it to stay that way. She noticed the similarities in personality that they shared and she knew better than anyone that that kind of persona did not happen without the aid of some kind of emotional trauma. It struck her that maybe he would understand her irrationality. But then, maybe not. What if he sneered at her and told her to stop being an idiot? She wouldn't blame him if he did.

"Jac," he warned her, using her first name for the first time. It took her by surprise that he would do that. He knew she was lying. 'Nothing' meant it was unimportant, and insignificant things seemed to have no effect on Jac Naylor. "Why were you crying?" he asked her again.

"This is the one day of the year that I let myself cry," she revealed, almost silently. She was still unsure of whether he ought to know about what had happened to her years before. He was, however, taking an interest and that had to count for something. Why would he ask if he didn't give a damn? "When I was twelve, my mother abandoned me. I was placed in foster care. Then, last year, she needed a kidney and she came here and made all these promises. She broke every one of them and deserted me all over again," she explained, trying to fight back the tears again. For some reason, the anniversary of that day had always brought her an almost unbearable pain. She had no explanation for it and she knew it was unreasonable, but that's what this day did to her. No other day had that effect on her. "I couldn't understand what it was that I was meant to have done wrong." The tears started rolling freely again.

"It's hard to feel that way," he agreed with her. Her head snapped around and she was ready to challenge him. A vague statement like that told her nothing and suggested everything. And she honestly believed that he didn't understand what he was talking about.

"How would you know how it feels?" she demand sharply. She didn't like that he had said that to her when he probably didn't have the first clue of what she was on about. "You have no idea, do you?"

Hanssen sighed and assured her, "I know, Jac. Believe me, I know." The genuineness in his answer threw her; was he saying that he'd been through something like that as a child? Was the defensive, cynical Swede about to open up to her about something? She didn't think so, somehow. The person closest to him was Sahira and even she seemed to know little about him. She watched as he put his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He looked…defeated. "I sometimes think that other people's actions define who we become," he stated. She was slightly shocked now. He had lost all of his arrogance, and it had been replaced with a form of dejectedness she hadn't ever seen in him.

"We are what we are because other people made us that way," she concurred slowly. She turned to him and spoke gently. "What happened to you?" she asked him, sincerely concerned. Like her, he wasn't a sarcastic pain in the neck over nothing. That much was obvious to her. She waited for him to tell her, figuring that he would in his own time. She doubted that he had told anyone, even Sahira.

"When I was nine years old," he began with his eyes closed. "My mother died. My father became intolerable and started drinking until he was a full-blown addict. He then proceeded to sent me to a boarding school in England. Even at nine years old, I knew that he did not want me there, and he made it clear every time I had to go home. I actually looked forward to the start of term after a couple of days with him," he explained. He looked round to Jac, who, for once, had lost the power of speech. Her eyes looked sympathetically at him. This was why he never told anybody. He did not want to be pitied, and he was sure that Jac felt the same way.

"I won't tell you that he did want you, Mr. Hanssen, because he probably didn't," said Jac. "But I will say this: he missed out on a lot by sending you there. He might not have been able to regret it, but you shouldn't regret being sent out here. Can you imagine if you stayed with him? It would have destroyed you," she told him. "No, you were better off away from him. That's you silver lining," she informed him, placing a hand on his leg as a comfort. She was unusually kind to explain this to him.

"And, Miss Naylor, I will not delude you into thinking that your mother really did want you," he returned. "Because she likely did not want you. But just remember how far you've come without her. What you lack in social skills you make up for in surgical talent," he reminded her, placing his hand on the back of her head, putting his fingers in the bright red locks. "You never really needed her. That's your silver lining." They gave each other a smile and just sat for a few minutes, contemplating each other, with the same thoughts. They were both cold, hard and distrustful because a parent had made them that way. It was not their fault.

Jac stood up and Hanssen followed suit. "See you in theatre, Mr. Hanssen," she bade him goodbye. He smiled and stood directly in front of her.

"I will see you there," he returned. As she walked away down the stairs, he called after her, "Keep your eyes dry!" He was sure her heard a small laugh come from her. So he wasn't alone then. Someone else had been hurt so badly that they shut everybody out. And he seemed to have made friends with the unyielding Jac Naylor. That was definitely something.

Hope it was alright!

Please review!

Sarah x