A/N: I imagine both 'The Doctor is In' and 'Expectation and Assumption' would continue pretty much along the same lines, which is why I only intend to continue one of them. On top of which, I'd rather commit to something I have the time and resources to complete. Whichever you preferred, imagine its continuation is as follows...

From Chapter 3 onward, I will only be posting under 'The Doctor is In' (it won by a fraction, but its my favourite).

They walked toward the lake without speaking, both nervous, afraid even.

David stopped at the far jetty, turned, looked back. "I never expected this place to feel like home."

"It's strange isn't it. Sometimes I think I am an entirely different person from that girl who stumbled up the steps in a storm."

"And into my arms." He looked at her, searching for the answer to the question he was about to ask. "You made it home. You could make anywhere home, for me."

She swallowed. This was going to be even harder than she'd expected.

"Will you?" He fished in his pocket and pulled out a velveted box, hiding it in a clenched fist. "Here or anywhere, will you come home to me, share my home? These past two years, working together, living together; I can think of nothing I desire more than to share all of life with you, Christy."

She sighed, turning slightly so as not to face him fully.

He held the ring box open, offering her much, much more than a ring, and waiting.

"I don't think I'll ever want to leave this place." She began.

He waited.

"These past two years have been the most difficult and most rewarding of my life. I have known friendship and purpose and I never could have remained this long if not for you, David."

He nodded, and waited.

"We would be content together, maybe happy. But David, I'm not in love with you. You deserve much, much more."

He snapped the ring box closed and walked away.

She watched him go then turned back to the lake, breathing deep. He would be all right, she hoped, God, let him be all right. Be his comfort. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt him, I just don't know what to do. She knelt down on the rough wooden boards. They reminded her of the chair at Neil's that easily-surmountable obstacle. The thought of Neil and she was racked with guilt. She pressed her fists into the gnarled planks. The pain felt right, deserved. She groaned in frustration and let herself cry. There was no avoiding it, and better here than in the mission house, overheard by Ruby Mae, or Alice, or even David.

When she returned, she'd missed Dinner. Alice was sitting outside, waiting for her.

"I was beginning to worry." She confessed.

"I'm sorry."

Alice shook her head. "You're not in trouble, Christy."

"Oh, Miss Alice."

Alice stood, reached out.

"Is David all right?" Christy hesitated, feeling unworthy of the comfort Alice offered.

Alice lifted her eyebrows. Of course David wasn't all right. She needn't even say the words.

"I am certain I've made the right decision, and yet I feel so guilty."

"Ease is no indication of virtue. I'd venture the opposite is more often the case."

Christy sighed and stepped into Alice's embrace.

"Give it time. Give David time, and yourself."

Christy nodded into her shoulder, clinging to her as the tears returned.

Miss Alice rubbed her back and kissed her hair. "Oh, my dear girl."

"Thank you." Christy sobbed and gradually calmed down.

Without another word, Alice led her up to her room. "Try to sleep."

Christy nodded. "He's not going to leave, is he?"

"David?"

Christy bit her lip.

"Perhaps it is what God wants. But David's path is out of thy hands, Christy. Leave that burden in the hands of one who can hold it." Alice backed out of the room and closed the door.

Christy sat heavily on her bed, then flopped back. Her head and eyes ached from crying, her legs ached from kneeling on cold, hard ground. Laying back on her bed felt so good. The tension seemed to seep out of her and she slept.

David disappeared into his work, barely appearing for meals. Christy followed suit. It was all she could do. Come Friday she was exhausted, but classes had gone ahead without any major dramas, had distracted her from thinking of the two men in her life, for most of each day, and now she tidied the classroom, trying to stretch out distraction for just a little longer.

Once that was done, she took out her planner and started writing up monday morning's first lesson on the blackboard. She could turn it around and put it out of the way for church on sunday, but it would be such a good start to next week.

She heard a horse approach, and a minute later, familiar footsteps outside the school. Too familiar. She didn't even turn from her work.

Neil walked up the aisle. "You're working awfully hard for this late on a Friday."

"I wanted to get a head start on next week." She turned ever so briefly, caught a glimpse of him, still approaching her, and turned back to the blackboard, only to find she'd completely lost track of what she was in the middle of writing.

He came right up behind her. She tensed. He kissed her neck. She broke the chalk.

"Someone will see." Her voice faltered.

"There's no one around. I checked."

Why was she out of breath? She put the chalk down and, determined to be cautious, to convince Neil to be cautious, she turned around.

He was so close.

She stepped past him and went to her desk. Something there might help her to finish monday's lesson. "Maybe we shouldn't do anything that requires sneaking around."

"I wasn't sneaking Christy. I just happened to notice the place was deserted. Accuse me of being an opportunist if you like."

She turned to face him, sighed, smiled. "I wasn't accusing. What brings you here?"

"I have a letter from Margaret, for Alice."

Christy hesitated, then nodded, fearing for Alice's peace of mind, or heart. It was much closer to heart when it came to her daughter.

"I'm sorry." He sighed heavily. "I just wanted to be sure Monday wasn't some kind of hallucination."

He was rarely less than entirely certain of himself. It was a testament to the turmoil and reassured her that her own struggle was warranted. "I keep forgetting." She leaned back on the desk, "and then remembering."

"And then stopping in my tracks." He added, stepping closer.

"And then fumbling to cover myself." She looked him in the eye. "One moment I'm so happy and the next in a panic of helplessness. I feel like a fool, and then more alive than ever, and then a fool again."

"You're not a fool."

"I told David I can't marry him."

He tried not to grin and his efforts were obvious. "That doesn't make you a fool."

She shook her head, closed her planner, and walked to the blackboard.

Neil moved to help her and they turned it around, placing it in an out-of-the-way corner.

"Thank you." She stayed holding the board.

"I can go if you want me to. I'll make myself scarce, if that would make it any easier for you." He stood at an awkward distance.

"What about you?" She let her hands drop to her sides, straightened her skirt.

"What's easy and what's right aren't very compatible are they?" He sat down on one of the desks.

She stepped toward him, stopping before she got too close, afraid of what she, or he, might do, given the opportunity. "Don't disappear Neil. I couldn't bear it."

He looked up at her, just out of reach, and swallowed. "Well, it's good to know I wasn't hallucinating. Very reassuring."

She smiled. "Unless we both dreamed up the same reckless..."

He stood and the space between them was no longer a safe distance.

"Neil," she warned, weakly.

"I won't." He looked at her like he very much would – would kiss her any moment.

"Because I'm not sure I wouldn't."

"That makes it easier." He glared at her.

"I'm sorry. I seem to have broken some kind of stop-gate between us and now I'm not sure that the tiniest nudge won't undo me entirely."

He forced himself to walk away, put some distance between them. "You've no idea how tempting the prospect."

"I might have some idea."

He couldn't help but smile at that, the ever-charming notion that she found him tempting. "I'd better go."

She almost shook her head, but stopped herself. A concise nod was beyond her.

He turned to go.

"Wait," She stepped forward, stopping at the first desk in her path.

He stopped but didn't turn back.

"Don't test me, Christy. I'll fail."

"I'm not. I only meant to offer the same courtesy you offered me."

He turned back, curious and confused.

"Would it be easier, for you, if we didn't see each other for a while."

He cocked his head to one side, an irrepressible smile on his lips. "It would be easier not to accidentally kiss you. But everything else would be more difficult. I don't think you realise the light that you've brought – I know I'm not the only one graced by it, but I think I must be the most affected. Perhaps I was further into the dark than everyone else, or perhaps you just shine brighter to me." He seemed astonished at his own openness, stopped himself, and then began again. "What I mean to say is that your friendship is more precious to me than any of these far off dreams of some kind of future together. I only hope that one day its safe to bet on the dreams, but for now I'll put it all on your friendship."

She was moved and didn't notice the tears spilling onto her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I should go."

She watched him go then realised she was crying. Swiping at her cheeks, she quickly tidied away the last of the school things. She sat on the school house steps and watch the last of the dusk fade into dark, until she heard Neil's horse depart. Picking up her lunch pail, she made her way back to the mission house.