"Grace Beauchamp, 8 years old… mother is Connie Beauchamp, former Cardio-thoracic goddess up on Darwin ward… now Clinical Lead in A and E. Connie spotted unexplained bruises down her daughter's spine six weeks ago, and thought she looked a bit pale… Grace complained of shortness of breath at school and unexplained right shoulder pain. Blood tests and bone marrow tests confirm Acute myelogenous leukaemia… also known as AML… we need to start chemotherapy, but at the moment she's too unwell… The shoulder had a fracture just above a tumour, we've plated that and movement can start at two weeks post op…"

Michael listened carefully in ward round. Connie had been declined the chance to go, and found herself allowing Michael to attend on her behalf. He raised an eyebrow as the ward round continued, "So what's the plan?" He asked sternly, his eyes on the Consultant who stood before him, "We can't just tell Connie we're sitting and waiting… I hope you have a plan…"

"We can do nothing but sit and wait… once her bloods show sign of improvement; we'll consider chemo Mr. Spence."

Michael nodded, shaking his head, before excusing himself from the busy room. "Well that was a waste of time," he uttered to himself, leaning back against the wall and running his fingers through his hair. He stopped outside Grace's room and watched Connie as she tended to her daughter. She looked so far removed from the bolshie, confident clinical lead he remembered so vividly.

"How is she?" He asked quietly, placing his hand on her shoulder blade, wondering when it was she became quite so slim,

She looked over her shoulder and shrugged, "Fallen back to sleep," she whispered, looking up at him, "How was ward round?"

He shrugged, "Didn't find out anything we don't already know, sorry,"

She looked back down at her daughter, "I feel so useless Michael… sitting, waiting and wishing… that's never been natural to me,"

"I know," he nodded, his dark eyes searching hers, "But you're far from it… she's glad you're here."

"I'm sick of these four walls," she uttered,

"Sam's here now… will you come and take a walk with me? We can grab a coffee… you don't even have to talk to me, but I think you could do with some fresh air,"

She took the cup of coffee from him gratefully, the strong smell of the coffee beans making her feel slightly more like herself. He wrapped his scarf around her neck, before walking close to her as they left the hospital,

"Where are you going?" Sam asked, an unreadable expression on his face, "Are you leaving her on her own?"

She shook her head, "I saw your car drive in… sit with her for a while, I need to take a walk,"

Sam nodded, "You two are spending a lot of time together," he commented. His voice was laced with jealously, and something Michael couldn't quite figure out,

"Call me if you need me," she found herself replying, unable to muster the energy to react to his words.