Can't believe how long it is since I updated this - sorry! Also, once again whilst writing I have been taken in another direction - so (time permitting) there will be a third (and I promise final) part with the original idea I had contained within it. Am not sure this all makes sense but hopefully you'll see what I was trying to say. As ever, please review - I really do like to know what everyone thinks

Jac had retreated to the Prayer Room again and her shift wasn't even halfway done. 'Twice in two days' she thought to herself, 'you'd better watch yourself Jac or you'll end up becoming a believer by default.' This thought reminded her of Jonny's assertion at Christmas, 'It's ok, you can't catch religion' which caused her to smile, until she remembered what had happened after that shift, and how different everything was now.

And suddenly she was filled with a longing to be back there – on Christmas Day, when everything had, magically it seemed, been resolved between them. A Christmas miracle, her Christmas miracle. For the first time in as long as she could remember, 'maybe' she thought, with a hint of bitterness, 'maybe ever' she had been with someone at Christmas and felt like she belonged. And when she had woken up on Boxing Day, way past her normal internal alarm time, and had found herself lying in Jonny's arms, that sense of belonging remained, was magnified even, and she had gone back to sleep, safe in the knowledge that he would be there when she woke again. And he was – but then there'd been Sean, and Japan and their all too short reconciliation until the endometriosis diagnosis which had, unbeknownst even to herself, knocked her far more off kilter than she would have thought possible. She knew Jonny wanted children and had surprised herself by saying and meaning that she could 'do that' – Jonny's whole shebang. And although Jonny hadn't thought she was capable of it, she KNEW with a certainty that hadn't wavered that she could indeed do 'that'.

And then there was the diagnosis, and that certainty which she had begun to treasure as a promise of good things to come, was shattered. And Jonny's words spoken, she knew in anger and only after extreme provocation from her, had broken it entirely, causing her to lash out in a completely uncharacteristic demonstration of her feelings. And when, as soon as she had done it, and she had seen the extent of Jonny's hurt and quiet fury, she wished she could take it back – wished briefly, even, that she had lost the use of her hand rather than do it. But still, even then, when he asked her if she had everything she wanted, she couldn't, wouldn't admit that she didn't. Instead, she had hoped, desperately, that he would see through her 'looks like it', even though she knew he had no reason to question it.

Perhaps Jonny was right, maybe she was incapable, perhaps she would always push the self-destruct button when she had a chance of a normal life, a hope of happiness. She had certainly done a pretty good job of proving his words right on that day. And even now she wasn't entirely sure why. Why she had let him believe that her career was the only thing that mattered; that he, that them, wasn't important to her; that she could walk away from it, from him just like that. She had thought about it, tried to explain it, perhaps even to justify it, to herself but still didn't believe she had the full answer. She knew her pride was a factor and her fear of being thought of as weak, and that her reluctance to ever admit she was wrong and even more to apologise, played a part. And she also knew that she'd been scared, because if she had said something then she would have had to explain, and run the risks such an explanation would have engendered. She would have had to explain the reason for her actions – why she had slapped Jonny; why his words, hurtful to hear at any time, had hit her so hard, affected her so deeply on that particular day. And she was scared what such an explanation would do – the risk of rejection was too high. At least this way she had the control – it was her decision, even if to 'decide' such a thing would cause her heartache, at least it was her choice. And she also knew there was an element of hope in that three word answer. Hope that Jonny would see through her pretence, would realise that it was a façade. A hope that he would continue to batter down her defences, to knock down the walls that she'd built around herself; that he would keep trying to reach her, to find the heart he'd been so sure, earlier in the day, was inside of her. And even though she knew, even then as she said it, that it was an unfair hope to hold, it was still there. But even that, even all those factors didn't seem quite enough to explain the enormity of those words, or rather the absence of the words she didn't say – the effect she knew they would have.

So maybe Jonny had been right, perhaps the self-destruct button was too big of an attraction for her, perhaps she was destined, doomed always to press it whenever she had a chance of happiness. She had to admit it certainly seemed that way, and she was sure that from an outside's perspective, from Jonny's perspective it would appear that that was what she was doing. Repeatedly self-sabotaging herself for a, to them, to him, unfathomable reason. But though she could see how they could think that, how it appeared, how she might even view it that way if she anyone else acting that way; perhaps might have explained it that way herself a few weeks ago, but not now, now it just didn't feel right. Because now that certainty, that promise of good things to come was slowly being repaired; was, like the baby growing everyday. And though things were far from how she wanted them to be, she was also sure that that didn't mean they wouldn't work out. She wasn't sure how that would happen, or when, or why but she was prepared to wait and see. And she was strangely hopeful once again, feeling again the possibility that good things were coming, knowing in fact, that if everything went well, possibly the best thing that could ever happen would be there.

'IF everything went well'

And there it was – the thought that seemed to run round her head, in the background, on a loop. The thought that would them loom large in her mind as she lay in bed trying to sleep. She knew that because of her endometriosis she had a higher risk of complications during pregnancy, which was why she'd been so sure when she'd had the bleeding early on that she miscarried, that the baby was gone. Why she'd been so determined not to take the pregnancy test she'd been thinking about for the whole day and Jonny had asked her to take (a decision she knew he'd found inexplicable at the time, although she thought he might understand her initial refusal a little better now, since she had told him about her diagnosis, if not the fears it engendered). She hadn't wanted, couldn't bear to have her fears confirmed, to know that what she'd had was lost, and unlikely to ever be replaced. Not that the baby could be replaced but she knew it was as close to a miracle as she'd get that she was ever pregnant, so to have the feat repeated seemed, to her, an impossibility. Things like that, she'd long ago accepted, didn't happen to her. Although, although this had…the baby was not lost, her miracle had continued to be miraculous, but for how long?

Surely her luck would run out at some point. The 12 week scan was next week, booked as far away from Holby as it was possible to get, not only because she was trying to avoid the gossip that would ensue if she was seen as a patient in the ultrasound clinic (Although she knew that would only buy her a few hours if Jonny had his way – he'd made his intention to let the world and his wife know the news after the scan very clear, although she still hoped she'd be able to persuade him to let the news out her way rather than via a round robin email or an announcement, complete with baby scan picture, on Facebook.) but also because she couldn't bear to be somewhere that she knew if there was bad news. She'd rather be somewhere she didn't know and would never have to return to, surrounded by people she would be extremely unlucky to ever see again, if she was to receive bad news, the worst news.

So whilst the hope of good things was still there, she was also scared, terrified even, that it would all go wrong somewhere along the line. And sometimes she wasn't sure which was strongest – the hope or the fear. And she was also terrified that by letting the fear in, it would somehow become a self-fulfilling prophecy. That she would somehow, by thinking, by fearing these things, contribute to the end of everything. And though she knew it was irrational, it was still also still there and the hope could only keep her going for so long, it was only so strong, but like the baby, she hoped, still growing. 'Everything will be fine' she thought to herself, trying to feed the hope. 'Everything has been fine and will continue to be so. It will all be OK'. "Everything will be ok" she said out loud, in the quiet of the prayer room. "Everything will be ok" she repeated. And before she had a chance to tie herself up in anymore knots, she heard someone – Gwen? – call out for help and then the alarm sounded. She was at the door in no time at all, not even stopping to take a breath before opening the door and stepping out on to the ward, leaving the quiet of the Prayer Room without a second glance but calmer than she had been when she entered it.