Thank you for the nice reviews. This part is up quite quickly because I've already written a certain amount over the past week. It was simply a case of having the time to get the pieces to hang together. The idea came when I was reading Walking Away by C. Day Lewis, the final two lines are:

"How Selfhood begins with a walking away,

And love is proved in the letting go."

Chapter 2

Twenty-four hours later and Sam had put half a world between herself and Dylan. Afghanistan was as inhospitable as ever. The harsh sun seared her skin and hot, dry air hit her like a smothering blanket the moment she emerged from the plane. Dust blew in her face filling her eyes and mouth with grit and she wondered what she'd been thinking of when she asked for this transfer.

Yesterday she'd been in a quiet West Country city – surrounded by gentle green landscape and even on the dampest grey chilly days it was more congenial than Helmand. Now here she was in one of the most hostile places on earth and she'd chosen to come here. She must be mad.

She did as her orders said and went straight from the airstrip to the base hospital to report to the senior medical officer – Brigadier Worth. She wasn't sure how she felt about working for Worth – she didn't know him but she knew of him and his reputation was that he was something of a Tartar. She'd got used to Nick Jordan's informal, firm but friendly rule and she had a horrible feeling that a return to Army discipline was going to come as an unwelcome shock. She'd never been good at being told what to do.

"Major Nicholls, Sir" Sam saluted smartly as she entered the Brigadier's office and introduced herself to the man who would be her boss for the next six months.

"Ah Nicholls – you've arrived. I was expecting you two hours ago."

"I'm sorry Sir – the transport flight was held up."

"Can't be helped I suppose. Those RAF boys are hopeless at timekeeping."

Sam longed to snap at him that those RAF boys had come under heavy sniper fire on their way in and the way they'd kept that plane in the sky was nothing short of miraculous but said nothing. It wouldn't help and would only get her off to a bad start with the new boss.

"I'm here now. When would you like me to start?"

"I think we can give you the evening off," Worth said as if he was conferring a huge favour on her. "I trust you found your sojourn with the NHS useful."

"Of course Sir," she smiled brightly. She was damned if she'd let him or anyone else know that her "little sojourn" in the NHS had left her desolate. "Mr Jordan is an excellent clinical lead. I've learned a great deal from him."

"I'm sure you did. I knew Nick Jordan when we were both senior house officers. He was always destined for great things. He sent me an email – apparently he's very sorry to lose you so soon but his loss is our gain. There is one thing," he paused.

"Yes Sir," Sam stiffened. Here it was the bollocking was on its way.

"I've heard all about that unfortunate contretemps with a patient, although not from Jordan. He was very reticent about that in his report on you. It's plain to me that you showed very poor judgement on that occasion Nicholls. I never want to see or hear anything like that out here do you understand." Worth was waggling his finger at her as if she was a naughty toddler.

"It won't Sir." She said stiffly hoping she did not sound as sullen as she felt.

Who'd been telling tales? It wasn't Nick and it wouldn't have been Dylan. Some stuffed suit in management perhaps. Worth didn't have anything to worry about. It wouldn't happen again. There'd be no need to do anything like that out here because there was no Dylan to protect. Did that fool think she'd do something like that for just anyone?

"You see that it doesn't. Now go and get settled in. I'll expect you on the recovery ward at 7am tomorrow morning. You can have a few weeks in the hospital to settle in, do a few clinics with the locals and let me see what you're made of. If I am satisfied that you are up to it, then we'll have you back on Cas Evacs."

"Sir," she saluted and marched smartly away fuming. Who did he think he was? She wasn't a green newcomer. This was her second tour of Afghanistan and she'd spent all those months in a busy City ED did he think she'd learned nothing at all.

The tiny bare room she'd been allocated in the hospital was as unhomelike as it was possible to be. Not that it really mattered, it wasn't as if she was used to a lot of home comforts and the room was only a place to sleep and perhaps do some studying. Sooner or later she'd have to start sitting specialist exams and she might as well be as prepared as possible. She was quite surprised Dylan hadn't nagged her about that in Holby. He'd always pushed her hard enough before but now he obviously didn't care enough about her to bother about how well her career did or didn't progress.

Clearly he didn't care at all or he would have come after her last night even if only to say goodbye at the station but he hadn't. She'd watched from the window hoping he'd come but knowing he wouldn't. By the time the train pulled out of the station she hadn't been able to see the platform for the tears. It was all over bar the paperwork.

Sam reached into her backpack removed a small paper wallet of photographs and selecting two favourites carefully propped them on the small locker beside her bed: one of the two of them taken on one of the rare happy days in their marriage and a more recent one of Dylan with Dervla. God she missed that dog almost as much as she missed the man. She'd minded Dylan keeping Dervla away from her in Holby but she'd understood why.

The traitorous lump was forming in her throat again and she swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to avoid the sudden rush of tears. She wasn't going to think about either of them now. She couldn't risk the emotional fallout. She'd blown her chance of love and happiness and she would have to learn to live with it or rather without it. She'd made her mistakes and now she would have to pay for it and go on paying probably until she died.

She hoped fervently she would be frantically busy out here and not have any time to think. That had been the only good thing about her previous stint here. There'd been no time to brood over past mistakes and she'd found she was less inclined to wallow in her own misery while all around her comrades were fighting and all too often dying.

All she had left was medicine so she'd have to throw herself into the job, grab every opportunity that came along to learn and develop so she could become the best trauma doctor she possibly could be and do her best to forget the sweet, brilliant, infuriating man she'd left behind. She could not - would not allow losing him to define the rest of her life.

The first ten days slid by in a daze of familiarisation, daily P.T. (she hadn't missed that at all), work and studying. She worked hard, every hour there was and then a few more, absolutely determined to show willing and prove that she'd put the unfortunate incident in Holby behind her. It helped too if she worked until she was so exhausted that when she went to bed she passed out as soon as her head touched the pillow – she didn't want time to think.

There was nobody left she remembered in the base hospital they'd all done their tour of duty and returned to calmer climes for a well earned rest. She was relieved to discover that a certain medical officer had departed for Germany. She couldn't blame him for her fall from grace, she'd been the engineer of her own misfortune after all but that didn't mean she ever wanted to see him again. She had no wish to be continuously reminded of her mistake.

There was no word from Dylan and for all she'd known that he wouldn't contact her again it still hurt. She'd been touched to receive a good luck card signed by Dixie, Jeff, Noel, Big Mac, Scarlett and Lloyd. Lenny had also sent her a postcard of Holby which he'd scrawled a few words on but there was only silence from the one person she wanted to hear from and the disappointment was almost overwhelming. Doubtless sooner or later she'd receive a cold formal missive from a solicitor and that would be it.

It was barely dawn and Sam was busy in the hospital preparing medical packs so she could go out with some of the nurses and run an outpatients clinic for local children in one of the schools when she heard Brigadier Worth calling her name."Nicholls!"

"Sir?"

"We're shorthanded. Davis has gone sick with Bastion Belly. I need you to go out with a Cas Evac team and do a retrieval. Think you're up to it?"

"Of course Sir," Sam smiled it would be good to get out and do something worthwhile and prove that she was more than up to the job. "What is it?"

"Roadside bomb and a tank patrol. One of them managed to radio in and ask for assistance. There's at least one traumatic amputation. The retrieval team is already waiting for you on the helipad. They were all set to go when Major Davis became indisposed."

"I'll get my kit and go." Sam rushed off to locate her body armour and find the helicopter wondering what she'd discover when they arrived on the scene.

The helicopter was loaded and ready for the off, it was quite clear that all they were waiting for was a doctor. Sam hurried over to it taking care to avoid the spinning rotors and hauled herself on board, grateful for the helping hand one of the medics extended to her. They were moving before they'd finished closing the doors because they were all painfully aware that every minute counted with major trauma and they'd already been delayed by Major Davis' sudden violent illness.

The pilot was an expert and had them over the site in less than 20 minutes. While he hovered looking for a good place to land, Sam stared down at the cracked sun-scorched earth below scanning the wreckage looking for signs of life in the ominously still crumpled forms she could see below.

"Aw shit, this ones going to be a bastard. Oh God I'm sorry Ma'am," the pilot apologised almost at once. Clearly he was one of those soldiers who didn't believe in swearing in front of a lady.

"Forget it," Sam said quickly. "Just get her down quick. You're right it is going to be a bastard."

She was sure two of the soldiers below were dead already it didn't always need a through assessment some things were dead giveaways but she might be pleasantly surprised. The two men furthest from the tank could be salvageable. One of them appeared to be trying to move one arm. They might be able to help him.

"Ma'am I've a really bad feeling about this," the pilot spoke again. "I know you Docs like to stabilise them at the scene but I reckon there are snipers about just waiting for us to come down. So do you think you could do this quickly?"

"I'll see what I can do." Sam agreed.

Officially she was the officer and the one in charge and it went against the grain to take advice from one of her team but she was also aware that she was a doctor albeit one with some army training and he was a proper and very experienced soldier. If his instincts said they should go in and go out he was probably right. She certainly wasn't going to risk all their lives to make a point.

"Right" she turned to her team and announced as if it was her idea rather than Sergeant Collins. "I'm worried about snipers so we won't hang around on the ground. We're just going to scoop and run. Any stabilising we need to do we'll do in the air on our way back. Sergeant Collins will stay with the helicopter."

"Yes Ma'am," both the young medics agreed meekly.

They both looked painfully young and she wondered if they were even old enough to shave let alone be sent thousands of miles away from their Mums to fight a battle that wasn't even theirs. She had no clue what the Army was doing in Afghanistan so she was damn sure they didn't.

Sergeant Collins' nervousness had infected her and Sam was out of the helicopter and running towards the casualties barking orders at her team before it had quite touched down. She was anxious to pick up the casualties and depart quickly. She knew what Sergeant Collins meant - there was an indefinable sense of menace here and every instinct she had was on the alert and screaming that they should get out. She'd learned to listen to her instincts on her last tour.

Both the young medical orderlies drew ahead of her before she'd run fifty metres and she was mildly irritated that they could both run faster than she could – she'd have to work out more. The two boys had just reached the crumpled heap of metal that had once been an armoured vehicle when she was vaguely aware of a thumping sound, something was ringing in her ears, the men in front of her seemed to evaporate and then she was flying backwards through the air.

"This is it," she thought confusedly "I've really gone and blown myself up. Dylan always told me I would. He's going to be so cross with me."