Disclaimer: Whatever you can recognize, is not mine.

Warning: English is neither my first, nor second language. Proceed at your own risk.

They stay like that for a long time, until Louisa motions Martin to put her down, which he carefully does. He doesn't, however, let go of her completely, and she also keeps holding on to his arms.

"Louisa," he says softly and leans in for a kiss. Her hands move to the back of his head, stroking his short hair, drawing him closer. A tender kiss turns into another, more passionate one. Martin's hands, touching her back lightly at first, become more and more confident, sliding up and down.

The mobile starts ringing.

"Bugger," with an effort Martin manages to sufficiently separate himself from Louisa to get the phone from his inner pocket. "Bugger," he repeats, throws a longing glimpse at her upturned face, and, finally, barks into the phone, "Ellingham."

"Yes," he says, a bit calmer, after listening for a few moments. One of his hands, which is still on Louisa's back, slides up and down one last time, before with a sigh, Martin takes a step away from her.

"Yes, Pauline, I'll be right there," he snaps into the phone and rings off.

Dejectedly he looks at Louisa, "I…hmm…"

"Surgery?" she asks with a small smile. "You have to go?"

"I…hmm…" Martin nods.

"You'll come back for dinner…" she looks at him expectantly. "Will you?"

"Yes," he pushes the word through his clenched teeth, as if it costs him dearly and ducks his head. He looks away, and his gaze trips over the pool of blood, still congealing on the kitchen floor. "I should clean that," he mumbles, quickly moving his eyes away from the spot, "you shouldn't be touching it, it's a medical waste."

"It is fine, I can do it," she strokes his arm. He peers at her hand on his sleeve, swallows, and moves away from her touch.

"Martin?"

"Erm, right, there might be some small pieces of glass, be careful. I'll leave you.…" He crouches by his medical bag, gets a pair of gloves out, and hesitates, "they might be slightly big for your…" He looks up at Louisa. "Here…" and hands her the gloves. The brush of their fingers sends him scrambling for words. "Hmm…" the only thing he can manage. He quickly gets up, forgetting the low set ceiling beam, and hits his head against it.

"Martin!" Louisa exclaims, looking at his twisted face, as he hisses, "Bugger."

Both, the medical bag and the defibrillator, in his hands, Marin lingers by the door.

"Would you like… Should I bring anything for… dinner?" he finds an excuse to linger some more.

"No, just come." Her hand is on his sleeve again. "Does half past six work for you?"

He nods stiffly, staring at her hand, then offers, "I will call the hospital to get the update on your… friend."

"I think I should go see her," Louisa considers. "I…"

"No need," Martin cuts her of, "she'll be heavily sedated." He glances at Louisa and adds softer, "I can take you there tomorrow."

Louisa nods with a smile, pulls him down a bit, and gives him a peek on the cheek. Martin's mouth quirks slightly, as if he is fighting his own smile.