Thank you so much to all the lovely people who keep on reading and reviewing, eventually it keeps me writing. Real life has kept interrupting this week with things I simply must deal with, hence the long gap between updates. I hope you enjoy this part.

2. Stranded

Sam hurried into her bedroom to change. Knowing Dylan's aged and draughty car of old and remembering she'd heard on the radio that there was snow further north she made a quick decision to go for warmth and comfort rather than smartness and layered up in boots, thick socks, tracksuit, hoodie and fleece. It was hardly an attractive look but it was practical for driving all night and it wasn't as if the company she was keeping appreciated glamour anyway.

She stared at herself in the mirror and cursed her ill fated decision to drink rather than wash her hair, she was a total state and her hair was lank and it wouldn't take a very observant person to notice that a hair wash was long overdue. She'd just have to plait it and hope for the best. She wondered what she could do about her red eyes and swollen nose. She did possess some make up but as she was less than expert in its application she doubted she'd have any success concealing the ravages her earlier tears had caused and anyway he'd already seen what a mess she looked. So it was probably a pointless exercise.

She could hear Dylan crashing about in her kitchen presumably producing coffee. At least she had proper coffee she wasn't sure his nerves and therefore hers could have taken it if he'd been reduced to instant coffee.

"Make sure you pack enough for a couple of days" Dylan called loudly enough to inform next door and downstairs of their plans.

"And there was me thinking I'd get it all in my handbag," she said sarcastically.

She grabbed a holdall and shoved in several changes of clothes and her wash things. Thinking about the predicted snowfall in the North she added extra socks and jumpers, spare gloves and her dressing gown. Finally she picked up two lightweight fleece blankets and her travelling pillow and stuffed them on the top of the now bulging bag. If they were stranded in the car overnight, a distinct possibility if you combined snow and Dylan's ancient vehicle; she had no intention of dying from exposure.

"That was quick" he remarked when she was in the kitchen barely 10 minutes later. "You look better,"

It was amazing she reflected what changing your clothes, washing your face, brushing your teeth and tidying your hair could do. With luck the mouthwash had removed the lingering scent of Johnny Walker and Dylan would forget that he'd caught her drinking alone or at least not drag it up again. It was not a discussion she wanted to have with him now or ever.

"Doesn't take long to put a few things in a bag," she said dismissively. "Radio said there was snow north of Sheffield is there a snow shovel in your boot."

"Of course and wellies, grit, de-icer and hypothermia blankets"! He said smugly "Have you got a flask we could take some coffee with us."

She rummaged in a cupboard wondering why Dylan was always so bloody organised. At least she had a flask she might not own much but that was the kind of thing an outdoor type of girl like her did own.

"Here you are," she proffered the flask.

Rummaging in her rather empty cupboards, she added some snack packets of dried fruit, chocolate and bananas to a carrier bag. If they were stuck on the road somewhere, sustenance might stop a murder being committed. Dylan was appallingly bad tempered when he was hungry. She hadn't been shopping for ages but a bit more digging around produced 2 bags of crisps, some Kendal mint cake, a packet of crackers and one of ginger nuts, a few elderly grapes and some babybel cheese. Almost a picnic!

"What are you doing?" he asked clearly puzzled.

"Packing a few snacks. We might get stuck on the road and you're impossible when you're hungry." She said calmly.

"If that's the best you can manage we'll have to stop somewhere," he said ungratefully "When did you last go shopping?"

"Two weeks ago, maybe three," she replied vaguely. Supermarket trips were never her favourite thing to do.

"When did you last eat?" Dylan asked her suspiciously.

She considered when had she last eaten? "I had a Danish on my way to work this morning." She told him.

"And when was your last proper meal?" he continued in that dangerously calm tone of voice.

"What constitutes a proper meal?" she enquired hoping to distract him from the truthful answer which he wasn't going to like.

"You know protein, carbohydrate, fat, vitamins, and minerals all together on a plate." He said slowly and clearly rather as if talking to an imbecile.

She thought before replying, wondering how best to diffuse the outburst that might follow her response. "I don't really cook you know that. I had soup last night and a ham sandwich yesterday lunchtime."

Dylan made a rude snorting noise. He never missed meals. She'd never really been fussed about shopping or cooking and almost always went for the easiest option which when she was stressed or upset was all too often a chocolate bar or nothing.

"We'll stop somewhere. Last thing I need is you fainting along the way," he retorted in disgust

"I never faint." She told him irritably.

"Always a first time," he said.

She glared at him crossly, she was a trained army medic damn it. She could go for days with virtually no food if she had to. It was him who needed regular refuelling and just assumed that everyone else should too.

"Drink your coffee, it will get cold." She reminded him wondering whether she should just pour her own over his irritating head and be done with it.

She slurped at her own and had to suppress a cry of pain it was hot and she'd burned her mouth but she was damned if she was going to let him know that. The hot drink and the caffeine revived her a bit and she decided that she could easily travel all night; after all she'd often worked for 24 hours or more at a stretch when things were really crazy in Afghanistan

We'd better get a move on it's a nearly six hour drive without snow," Dylan remarked finishing his own coffee. "We won't be up there until the early hours as it is."

"Will you be all right to do the driving after a shift," Sam asked him tentatively "would we be better to sleep for a few hours and leave at 3 or 4 to arrive first thing? You could kip on the sofa or I could. "

"I'll have to be all right won't I since you've rendered yourself incapable of doing half the driving, he retorted and she wished she hadn't mentioned it because he was harping on about that disastrous drink again.

"I'm sorry but it's not as if I knew you'd want me to drive today." Sam apologised wondering why she felt she had to. "I might be all right to drive in a few hours."

"And you might not." Dylan's response was implacable "and you know as well as I do might isn't good enough. You're in enough trouble already without drink driving too."

Sam bit back the furious riposte that sprang to her lips. She would never ever drive a car if she was incapable and he knew it. How could she possibly have known Dylan would want her help or that he'd be counting on her to drive? Drinking alone might not be the wisest course of action but it wasn't a crime. Obviously she would have stayed sober had she had any inkling at all that she might be needed to drive, hell she probably wouldn't have had a drink if she'd known she'd have a visitor. Just because he had a drink problem there was no need to assume that she did too. She could stop in fact she couldn't remember the last time she'd had reason to open the Whiskey bottle. She rather thought it was before Holby. No she had had one good big shot after the ED burned down just to calm herself down but that was at least two months ago.

"Let's just get a move on Grumpy," she hoped the nearest she'd ever had to a pet name for him would improve his mood but knew it was doomed to failure almost before the words left her mouth.

"Good God woman do you think you're going to the Antarctic he asked as she shrugged into a large padded down jacket and put an enormous scarf cum shawl over the top.

"Have you mended the door and window seals on your car yet," she asked as if talking to a small child.

"No, the garage wanted to charge me a perfectly ridiculous amount. I'll do it myself when I've got time," he explained

"Or sorted out the heating?" she continued in the same patient tone.

"Not yet," he said.

"Well than as I've no plans to get pneumonia or hypothermia I'm wearing plenty of clothes." She told him checking she had gloves in her pocket and picking up her hat and wellies.

They headed downstairs for Dylan's decrepit Land Rover which Sam knew from sad experience was one of the draughtiest methods of transport known to human kind. It might have been all right for transporting sheep on a Welsh hill farm but as conveyance for people it fell far short of the mark. She'd not actually set foot in it for well over a year and it had not improved with keeping she decided looking ruefully at the large patches of rust and the debris in the front passenger well. It had never been carpeted and now the rubber mats in the foot wells appeared to have vanished leaving nothing to insulate her feet from the elements. There were several more interesting tears in the upholstery and the dashboard had a crack in it. She wondered anew how the car ever made it through its MOT but she was sure it had. Dylan had his faults but he wouldn't drive the car if it wasn't roadworthy.

Poor Dervla who had clearly been banished to the chilly rear of the car leapt up at their approach her tail wagging wildly. Sam wondered why Dylan had left her in the car instead of bringing her into the flat. It wasn't like him and the poor dog hated being left by herself in the car. She walked over to greet her and the dog pushed her cold wet nose into Sam's neck the moment she opened the door.

"Hello darling," Sam automatically patted the dogs head and rubbed her soft silky ears "I've not seen you for such a long time."

The bright doggy eyes were shining and Sam flattered herself that the enthusiasm was for her. She couldn't help being pleased by the affectionate greeting. It was nice to be wanted even if the one living thing who wanted you was a slightly dopey dog.

"Get a move on. It's eight already and we haven't got all night." Dylan's irritation was all too clear.

"OK," Sam rolled her eyes at the dog "Sorry Dervla but Grumpy wants us to leave now."

She removed one empty sandwich packet, two chocolate wrappers and four coffee cups from the passenger seat and checked that there were no wet coffee stains on the seat before sitting on it then arranged her bags around her feet for extra insulation. Dervla had obligingly curled up on an old quilt behind her seat obviously understanding that if Sam was back in the car she would not be riding in the front. Sam lent behind her and tucked the dog up in an elderly blanket as if she was a baby, she didn't want her to get cold and the heating was useless. Dervla submitted willingly enough to the extra fuss she'd always liked being cosseted. Dylan might be an indulgent owner but it was Sam who had really pandered to their pet.

Dylan was so impatient to be off he barely waited for Sam to put on her seatbelt before roaring off into the night. She found herself devoutly hoping she wouldn't need to stop and use a loo before he was ready to take a break because like all men he seemed to see stopping at the motorway services as some sort of insult to his pride rather than a simple necessity.

For the first part of the journey, the battered old car ate up the miles, for all its aesthetic and structural defects it was actually relatively mechanically sound and did a steady 90mph all the way up the M5. They travelled more or less in silence. Dylan drove like someone possessed his hands held the steering wheel in a death grip and his face was taut. He never once took his eyes off the road to look at her or Dervla. She was glad conditions were good because she wasn't at all sure he should be driving but it was equally clear that right now she couldn't take over much as she might like to.

Sitting quietly in the passenger seat Sam cursed the momentary weakness that had led her to decide that a nice Scotch was the way forward and would make her feel better. If she hadn't had that damned drink she could help him now but she had drunk the alcohol so there was nothing she could do except sit beside him and hope he could feel the unspoken support. It wasn't as if she had any words there was nothing she could do or say that would make this any better. He hadn't said anything more than the bare facts but she knew her husband and she knew he cared desperately that his only sister was dying.

She wondered what was wrong with Mollie? How could she be dying and why had Dylan not been told she was ill before now. Surely it was all some terrible mistake and they'd arrive in Northumberland to find that it was some other Mollie Keogh. She didn't think she'd mind the wasted journey then it would be worth it. She thought back to what she could remember of Mollie Keogh, she was Dylan's older sister so she must be 36 maybe even 37 – too young to die anyway. The last time she'd seen her had been at their wedding where she'd upset Dylan by turning up with her long blonde hair in dreadlocks and wearing a long silver and turquoise dress in some sort of muslin with silver sandals and a long floaty shawl with bells on. It was rather chilly attire for a December wedding and not Sam's kind of thing but it had been harmless enough. She'd been so happy and so in love that day she wouldn't have cared if the guests had shown up in bin bags.

Mollie hadn't looked fragile, she was built like Dylan so rather on the sturdy side and she couldn't ever recall Dylan saying his sister was ill. Well physically ill anyway. She'd heard him question her sanity more than once but Sam had always had a suspicion Mollie's greatest offence had simply been to refuse to conform and to dare to hold different opinions to her brother.

Sam risked a quick sideways glance at Dylan, he was white faced with a grim set expression and greatly daring she risked reaching out to rest her hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze hoping it said all the things she couldn't begin to put into words. He relaxed slightly but still didn't say anything.

She leant back in her seat and stared unseeingly out of the window lost in her own thoughts. She'd put her own nerve-racking difficulty out of her mind for now. There was nothing she could do about it at the moment and Mollie's predicament was far more immediate and would have to be addressed first. It didn't seem that there was anything she could do for Mollie the best she could hope for was to be able to help Dylan while he dealt with this crisis. Even if the only help she could provide was silent sympathy and support.

Sam still couldn't understand why Mollie had wanted her to go too. She could definitely count the number of times they'd met on one hand and presumably she knew that her brother and his wife had separated. Maybe Mollie was more perceptive than Dylan had ever given her credit for and she knew Dylan would do his utmost to grant her last wish and she wanted her brother to have someone who cared with him. Except that Mollie could not possibly know that Sam still cared.

Sam persuaded him to take a break somewhere north of Birmingham only by insisting that she needed to stop. He had grumbled but agreed and they had a hasty meal. Dylan actually made quite a good meal consuming two courses and three coffees stolidly. Stress and upset had never appeared to affect his appetite in the slightest – she'd always wondered if that was a man thing very few soldiers lost their appetite however appalling the situation. Sam was surprised to find that she was hungry after all, and managed to dispose of a large plate of bangers and mash with onion gravy followed by a large piece of sticky toffee pudding. Equally unsurprisingly she spent the next fifty miles feeling more than a little nauseous as the dilapidated car wobbled and shook its way north east.

The predicted snow hit them at the edge of the Peak district. The conditions grew worse the further North they went, Sam had been chattering away about inconsequential things even though she knew it would annoy him purely because the irritation would keep Dylan awake and feeding him squares of chocolate but now they sat in silence because it was taking all his concentration to keep going and she didn't want to distract him. Dylan was tired and tense his eyes fixed unswervingly on the road ahead, visibility was dropping and the snow fell in a dizzying swirl all around them. The road was covered in a thick layer of snow with only two tyre tracks showing the road ahead. They slowed to a crawl.

"You Ok." she asked tentatively

"Just tired, can't see far enough ahead. I don't want to drive in these conditions. Do you mind if we stop at the next services and see if it eases off a bit?" he replied.

"Of course not you're the one who's driving." Sam said at once secretly relieved he'd decided to stop. She found the roads absolutely terrifying and there was absolutely no way she'd have been capable of driving in the current blizzard. She had been convinced that either they'd slide off the road or one of the huge lorries still heading north would skid on the ice plough into the back of them and annihilate them for at least the last hour.

The next services were another twenty miles and by the time they got there she was stiff with cold and fear and almost fell out of the car. Dylan automatically grabbed her arm to steady her and kept hold of it as they stumbled and slid across the car park. The services were safe brightly lit and warm and that was all that mattered to her. She slumped into an armchair at the coffee concession and let Dylan get her whatever beverage he liked, she didn't care so long as it was hot. The coffee was execrable and the cake dry but she didn't care they were inside out of the elements and off that ghastly road.

An hour later it was clear that the weather was not going to ease off and reluctantly they decided that they'd have to make a move as they still had a good 170 miles or so to go.

Once they got outside however it was obvious that the weather was even worse. Sam viewed the car park with the buried mounds of snow that were once parked cars in horror. Surely Dylan wasn't proposing to carry on. She tried to muster a decent argument that he'd listen to.

"Dylan," she began tentatively "You can't drive in this. It's madness. We'll have to sleep in the car for a bit."

"Too cold to sleep in the car, we'd freeze." he replied. "How do you feel about going across to the Travel Lodge and seeing if we can get a room? We can go on in the morning."

"Fine by me," she agreed relieved.

She hadn't thought he'd give in with so little argument. Perhaps underneath that pig headed stubbornness he had retained a modicum of common sense. He didn't actually have a death wish and must be aware that they'd be no use to Mollie if they killed themselves en route. He was probably tired too and the weather had at least given him the option of giving in gracefully. Realistically unless she was very close to death, the hospital would not want them arriving to see Mollie much before 8 the following day anyway. It was much more sensible to rest and wait for the weather to improve.

They rescued a cold and disgruntled Dervla from the car and headed across the car park to the Travelodge. Predictably it was heaving but much to Sam's relief they were able to get a room and persuade the distinctly disapproving receptionist to allow Dervla to stay but only because Dylan suggested he would have her charged with animal cruelty if she made him leave the dog in the car on a night when it was -15.

"I'm sorry there's only the one room left," Dylan told Sam "Do you mind?"

"It's 2am, I'm cold, I'm tired as long as it's a warm room with a horizontal surface for me to pass out on I don't care." She replied wearily. "I've slept in far worse places. It's not as if we haven't shared a room and a bed before."

She was sure he'd think she was referring to the conditions she'd slept in Afghanistan but actually she wasn't. In the last disastrous months of their marriage they'd been accustomed to sleeping in the same bed but as far apart as possible on the extreme edges of the bed. That had probably been the lowest point in their relationship, she thought sadly, tonight couldn't be worse than that.

The room was tiny and probably only used in emergencies. The bed could just about be described as a double but it was definitely only just the 4'6" that merited that term but it had clean sheets the room was heated and there was a bathroom. It would do for what was left of the night.

Dervla was convinced to curl up on a blanket beside the radiator but she gazed at them both balefully from moist sad doggy eyes. She clearly felt her place was on the bed with them and not sleeping on the floor. Sam found herself wondering if in her absence Dylan had given way and allowed the dog on the bed. She wouldn't have put it past him. It was only the implacable firmness of her resolve that had kept the dog from sleeping on their bed.

"Which side do you want?" Dylan asked her.

"Doesn't matter you choose," she responded dully. She wished he'd be less considerate and she wasn't sure why except that it wasn't like him and it unnerved her.

She hadn't the energy to shower and wash her hair and settled for removing most of her outer clothes and pulling an outsize t-shirt over the top to sleep in. Dylan was already in bed with the covers up to his chin by the time she left the bathroom a disgruntled Dervla sulking in her corner. She clambered into the other side of the bed stretched out and promptly kicked him.

"Sorry," she apologised at once.

Clearly she'd got more used to sleeping alone than she'd thought. Certainly she had noticed that she'd taken to sleeping diagonally across the bed in the last few months. She switched off the light, turned onto her side and lay motionless with her back to him. It was just like old times she thought without nostalgia for those miserable months, her on the far left of the bed and Dylan on the far right sharing a bed without touching or speaking. Dylan fell asleep almost at once but although she was exhausted but try as she might sleep just would not come. She was fretting about the GMC case and anxious about Mollie but most of all she was heartbreakingly aware all over again that lying in bed beside someone you still loved but could not communicate with was the loneliest place on earth to be.

She was almost overwhelmed by a sudden longing to turn over, wrap her arms around her husband hold him close and force away the fear that was threatening to swamp her but she'd lost the right to do that long ago. Tears trickled noiselessly down her cheeks burying her face in her pillow she stopped trying to suppress the silent sobs shaking her body. She'd learned to cry quietly and unobtrusively in Afghanistan. It wasn't the done thing to show your feelings and weep in public but when it all got too much she had shed the tears she dare not let fall during the day at night when no one would know she wasn't sleeping.

She was deep in a storm of soundless tears when Dylan suddenly reached out and pulled her to him. She was so startled she almost stopped breathing in shock. He didn't say anything at all just gathered her in his arms and held her tightly against his chest, she could hear the reassuring thump of his hart under her ear and he was stroking her hair soothingly. Despite her astonishment Sam relaxed into his embrace. She didn't dare say anything for fear of breaking the spell that held them but it occurred to them that neither of them had ever been very good at talking or expressing their feelings and maybe Dylan needed the comfort of the close contact as much as she did. He'd had a lousy day and probably needed a hug too. They'd always been far better at non verbal communication and for now he'd said all she needed him to.

Hope you enjoyed this, if you did please feed my fragile ego and let me know. Thanks.