Ollie looked across the body of the boy at Tyler. As far as he was aware, she had neglected her patient, he had deteriorated and it was his job as her mentor to sort her problems out for her. Resentment echoed in waves between the two of them. Tyler was standing as quiet as ever, looking at him with calculated politeness. She was waiting for him to take the lead. He took a deep breath, and began.

The dropping BP was not getting any better, despite the clamping of several arteries and the fact they had almost got to the closure stage of the leg wound. Ollie couldn't believe that she hadn't sent the patient to surgery before the problem had got this sever, but he suspected that she had wanted to do this procedure all along. He glanced up from the leg for a brief second, a tiny blip in his concentration and looked at her. Her face was fixed in concentration, but beneath the focused, bright eyes, there were dark bags. Despite himself, he almost asked after her, but then checked himself. If she wanted to push herself to the limits, she'd have to learn the consequences.

The leg was closed and the child's BP almost looked to be stabilising when a frantic alarm filled the theatre. Ollie saw Tyler's eyes immediately flick to him and hated her for her dependence. Nothing had ever gone wrong in their surgery before; he didn't want to admit it, but they had made a good team. Tyler immediately pressed her hand on Harry's chest.

'Good bilateral air entry- no respiratory damage. There must be something wrong with his heart!' The way she said it was a direct suggestion that this was his problem to solve. Ollie felt a tiny prickle of anger.

'OK, Dr Tyler, what do you think another issue could be?' Not only was he embarrassing her a little, which gave Ollie a little spike of savage satisfaction, but he was stalling for time.

'I don't know, sir,' Tyler said, her voice still measured, despite the panic he could see glimmering in her eyes. Ollie's anger increased. He didn't know either! But, she was the clever one, the golden whizz kid, why could she not throw him a life line? Anger bubbled as he struggled with his embarrassment.

'Do we have a chest and abdo CT?' Ollie asked, annoyed to find his voice much less controlled than he would have liked. Tyler's face paled.

'I- I didn't do one, sir,' she stuttered. Ollie felt his anger break its flood barriers.

'OUT!' he roared. Tyler jumped back a pace and threw her arms up as if to defend herself and Ollie's anger only grew. How dare she be weak? He wanted to shout at her. 'I can't work with you. Get out of my theatre NOW!'

Tyler burst through the doors and leant against the sink, tears reaching into her vision. She looked, panic-stricken, back through the glass. The beeping was getting worse. Tyler washed her hands and tore off her scrubs. Her breathing rate was accelerating. How had she not done a scan? How could she have been so bloody stupid? She wanted his condition to worsen so she could do the op, but now- had she killed a man? The beeping reached a crescendo and three separate alarms echoed in the theatre. She could see Mr Valentine looking down at the body as if it were a map and he didn't even know where he began in the first place. The anaesthetist was gesturing at him, but he just shook his head. The alarms stopped all at once. Tyler covered her face. She felt horribly, desperately alone.

The doors banged and Mr Valentine burst into the room. Tyler dropped her hands and watched as he ripped his scrubs into a bin and turned to face her. His fury was palpable and it was all she could do not to run away. She somehow managed to hold his gaze.

'To be honest, Tyler,' Mr Valentine snarled. 'I didn't expect anything better. That was a mess, Tyler. A MESS!' Tyler took a deep breath and managed to control the tears. Mr Valentine took a step towards her and they we nose to nose. 'Just remember, none of this would have happened if you were a better doctor. This-' He gestured at the boy's body. Harry's body. 'Is all your fault. You killed him. And now,' he added, with a sort of savage satisfaction. 'And now, you'll have to tell his father.'