Hey guys, this is the first time I've updated twice in such a short amount of time. This chapter is quite a bit longer than usual because I had a a bit more time stuck on a train to write this one. I worked really hard on it though so I hope you enjoy it. Thank you so much for the reviews that you keep leaving, I really do appreciate them a lot and they inspire me to keep going :) It's Charlotte's birthday in 23 minutes woooop! Please leave a comment if you have the time :)


Zoe had poked her head round the guest room door a couple of times to check on Sam but mostly she had just tried to do what she would usually do on a day off. Falling asleep was off the cards because she was far too wound up with the morning's events even though she was tired. She paid her electricity bill, nagged her landlord about the leaky toilet and made lunch, well reheated yesterday's takeaway in the microwave. She considered waking Sam up to get her to eat but decided that rest was the most important thing and that she could have some food later. It was only when she had sat down later in the afternoon, mindlessly watching a repeat of a daytime soap that she found herself scrolling through the contacts in her phone to one name.

Tom Kent.

As much as she understood Sam's reasons for not wanting Tom to know, she also knew that Sam couldn't stay at her flat forever. He would be back on Monday anyway and where would they be then? She had no doubt that he would be angry, both at the situation and at being kept in the dark and she wasn't sure if she wanted to be in the middle of that. Too late Zoe, she thought, you're already involved. She was also aware that this wasn't a situation that was going to be sorted immediately. Sam needed time to recover, not just physically but mentally, and judging from her panic attack earlier, it wasn't going to be a simple process. As her partner and as the one who was going to be dealing with the effect of the attack on Sam on a daily basis he had a right to know.

Her finger hovered over the call button and she bit her lip. Bleep… Bleep. She cut the call off as quickly as she had started it, hoping that it hadn't connected.

Don't be an idiot. Zoe remembered as soon as she pressed the call button that for some reason Sam had decided to trust her. Calling Tom and telling him without Sam's permission would be breaking her trust and Zoe couldn't afford to do that. She put her phone back down and sighed, trying to refocus her attention back to the TV.


6pm

*Buzz buzz* Zoe jumped slightly as she heard the buzzer for her flat and frowned. She wasn't expecting any visitors.

"Hello?" she said into the speaker

"Hi Zoe it's Fletch,"

Zoe frowned again, "How do you know where I live?"

"Looked it up in your staff file didn't I," he replied, laughing slightly, "Look can I come up, the ED has sent some flowers for Sam," he added, before Zoe had a chance to tell him off for looking up her personal details.

"Come on up," Zoe said.

She greeted him at the door. He was holding a beautiful bunch of purple and white flowers and an apologetic grin on his face.

"Sorry for being a bit of a stalker, I wanted to come round and see how she was doing," he admitted as he walked in.

"She's not doing great if I'm honest," Zoe replied, pulling a face, "and I haven't even thought ahead to tonight or tomorrow. We're kind of doing it one step at a time. They're lovely," she said, pointing at the flowers.

"Robyn picked them," Fletch smiled, "Can I go and see her?" he asked hopefully.

"She was fast asleep the last time I checked Fletch, I'm not sure if she's really up to visitors," Zoe replied.

"Please, I'll just take a peek, if she's asleep I'll just leave them with you,"

Zoe knew that Sam and Fletch were good friends and who knew, maybe she would welcome the sight of a face different from her own.

"Okay but if she's asleep don't wake her up," Zoe reasoned and Fletch nodded, "third door to on the left," she directed from the living room.


Fletch knocked softly on the guest bedroom door before he entered. He could tell from the shuffling in the bed that Sam was awake but she didn't respond to the knock.

"Sam," he said softly as he entered, "it's Fletch,"

Sam groaned softly. She had been drifting in and out of a doze for the past half an hour, roused from her slumber by the pain igniting in her ribs. The room was darker than it had been when she went to sleep and she squinted to make out the shape of Fletch as he approached the bed. She had been right about needing to be alone and sleep, her anger had almost dissipated completely.

"Fletch?" she asked, slowly pushing herself up to a seating position in the bed.

"Yeah it's me, is it okay if I turn on this lamp?" he asked. He hadn't wanted to turn on the main light for fear of frightening her. Upon her agreement Fletch scrabbled around for a moment to find the switch. A muted click and the room was bathed in soft yellow light.

As Sam blinked her eyes to adjust them to the relative brightness Fletch looked at Sam's face. The light here was kinder than the harsh fluorescence of the hospital strip lights, she didn't look so pale, the bruises didn't have as much contrast to the surrounding skin but he could see it in her eyes that she was feeling worse than she had this morning.

"From the ED," he smiled, presenting the bunch of flowers to her, "Robyn assures me that they're your favourite,"

Sam's eyes lit up briefly as she saw the flowers. They were her favourite. "They're beautiful, thank you," she said, before she processed where they had come from. She looked up at Fletch sadly, "I suppose everyone is talking about what happened?" she asked, feeling sick at the thought of the ED gossiping and speculating behind her back.

"Only out of genuine concern," Fletch assured here, "Tess put a stop to any rumours and you know what she's like," Fletch said pulling a face, "Scaaaaary,"

Sam broke into a small smile again. Fletch had this uncanny ability to make anyone laugh, and Sam wasn't immune to it.

"Mind if I sit?" Fletch asked, wary of how she had flinched away from him earlier, though he could tell from her mood that she was less jumpy, more quietly sad.

"No go on," Sam replied, patting the side of the bed.

Fletch sat down carefully to avoid jarring Sam's ribs and he put the flowers on the bedside table.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, as if he was autopilot and as soon as it slipped out of his mouth he started apologising to Sam, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's okay," Sam cut in, "I'm sore and not feeling very good," she said honestly, "But I am alive," she joked feebly, finishing with a smile that Fletch didn't quite believe.

Fletch returned the smile anyway even though he was all too aware that Sam was putting on a show of strength for him. That was Sam Nicholls, determined and strong.

"Look at my good work," he remarked, indicating the cut which had reopened on the side of Sam's head.

Sam looked guiltily at Fletch, "I'm sorry, I forgot, in the shower," she explained.

"Don't worry, I just want to make sure it doesn't leave a scar," Fletch said, "Is it okay if I have a look? The wound edges might still be fresh enough to suture,"

"Okay,"

Fletch gently prodded the edges of the wound. It wouldn't be as neat as before but he was sure he could at least make it so the scar was a bit neater, "I'll redo it, if you want, Zoe'll have a suture kit," he offered.

"If you're sure you don't mind," Sam replied in a quiet voice.

Fletch grabbed the flowers off the table and stood up to leave, "I'll get Zoe to sort these out and I'll be right back."


Fletch returned to the kitchen to find Zoe inhaling the aroma of an extremely strong coffee, "I'll have what you're having," he joked as he put the flowers on the side.

"Sam's awake then?" Zoe asked.

"Yeah, actually do you have a suture kit?" Fletch asked, "I'm gonna redo her stitches,"

Zoe smiled, impressed with Fletch. He was born to be a nurse his bedside manner was so good. You don't get taught that at nursing school, it's an inherent characteristic.

"The door down from the guest room is the bathroom, in the cupboard under the sink," Zoe instructed taking a sip of her coffee.

"Cheers," Fletch replied, "Oh by the way chuck those flowers in some water for me will you?" he said with a grin.

Zoe couldn't help but smile at him as she reached over to get the bunch of flowers.


As Fletch opened the cupboard under Zoe's sink he was taken aback by how many medical supplies she had in there. Not just suture kits, but gloves, gauze, bandages. "You got enough kit in here Zoe," he called out, "looks like you've brought half the store cupboard home,"

Zoe appeared in the doorway behind him, "Perks of being the boss," she replied, "Got what you need?" Fletch nodded and washed his hands thoroughly in the sink, "I'll bring the flowers in in a bit with some dinner. Thanks Fletch," Zoe said. She was glad he had come over and even more glad she'd let him in. He was obviously doing Sam good and she didn't feel so clueless any more.

"Not a problem,"


"Sorry you have to go through this again," Fletch apologised as he snipped through the remaining stitches on Sam's head.

"No it's my fault," she said quietly, watching as he drew the lidocaine up into the syringe and pushed the plunger slightly to expel any trapped air,

"No it's not," Fletch said firmly but gently, "it was an accident, and we're going to fix it right up. This is going to sting a little bit," he warned, even though he knew Sam knew what was coming next.

Sam winced as the needle punctured the edge around the wound. She definitely felt it this time.

"Sorry," Fletch apologised, "All done. Just wait a couple of minutes for that to work," he smiled.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before Fletch reached up to check the wound. Sam gasped and flinched back like she had from Zoe earlier, but she was less tired and more in control than last time and she managed to take a deep breath and force a small smile at Fletch.

"Sorry, I forgot what I was doing," Fletch said, "Can you feel it?"

Sam frowned as she felt the area around the wound, "No it's numb," she said.

"I'm going to start now alright?" Fletch asked, the suture instruments poised and ready in his hands.

Sam nodded and Fletch got to work, his gloved fingers effortlessly closing the wound. It took a couple more stitches than it had done previously to close the wound to Fletch's high standards and of course it was a little bit more jagged but with the proximity of the cut to Sam's hairline it would still be difficult to see it once it had healed.

"There you go," Fletch announced as he snipped the last stitch.

"Thank you," Sam said quietly and Fletch felt his heart drop when he caught the look in her eyes. They were pensive and fearful, two things he'd never seen in Sam before.

"Sam, I'm going to ask you something and you can tell me to butt out if you want," Fletch started, really hoping he wasn't pushing his luck, "but why won't you let us call Tom for you? Or you call him?"

He finished and paused, letting Sam process the question. Sam knew that this question was coming, that much was inevitable. At the mention of Tom's name images of him flooded her mind. The night before she had dropped him at the airport they'd gone bowling and she'd laughed at him in the stupid shoes. She'd worn ridiculous heels because they were going out for dinner afterwards and they'd hurt her feet so much he'd given her a piggyback all the way home. And then they hadn't really slept, just spent the remainder of the night wrapped up in the bed sheets and in each other's arms. The night had been perfect. And then she had ruined it by going running, she had ruined everything by not being stronger, by not fighting harder. She couldn't let Tom come home and find her like this.

"Because," she started, taking a deep breath, "because I ruined everything," she whispered, dropping her head.

Fletch shook his head, there was no way he was going to let her blame herself, that sort of thinking had to be nipped in the bud, "No, no way Sam. This is not your fault," he said urgently, though he was careful not to raise his voice.

But Sam was shaking her head, "But it is, I didn't fight hard enough-"

"Sam have you seen the bruises on your arms and your legs? You're a doctor you know what defensive injuries look like," Fletch pleaded, but Sam didn't appear to be listening.

"And I can't let him come home to me like this. All used and broken and jumping every time someone comes near me. I'm scared of my own mind Fletch. How can I expect him to deal with all that? He didn't sign up for that" she said desperately, tears brimming at her eyes.

Fletch gripped Sam gently by the shoulders, too quickly for her to flinch away and it forced her to look at him, "Because, he loves you Sam," Sam started to protest but Fletch started speaking again before she had the chance, "My God does he love you. And if you were Natalie, and I was Tom, I would want to be on the first plane back. And he will too. I can guarantee you that,"

Sam understood what Fletch was saying. She knew that Tom loved her and she loved him back dearly, she wanted him to pick her up in his arms and take her away from this whole awful situation but she just couldn't imagine him wanting to be with her now she was like this. She didn't even want to be in her own mind, there was no way she could expect him to tolerate her. She was terrified that he'd be disgusted with her. "W-what am I going to tell him?" Sam asked hopelessly, sounding so utterly defeated, "How do I tell him?"

"Zoe or I can give him a ring, tell him the basics and then when he gets back, you can tell him what you want him to know in your own time. But he needs to be here sweetheart," he reasoned, hoping that he had managed to make Sam see sense.

"If you call him, I don't, I don't want you to tell him about…just say that I was mugged…please," Sam begged, finally relenting.

"I told you that's up to you to tell him-"

"No. No. If I was only mugged," Sam started, "We can get past that, we've got past worse than that," Sam said, remembering the incident with the diazepam. She was working it out in her head as she spoke. She would try really hard to lock what had happened away in a little box. Just like she'd done with the stuff from her childhood, and from Afghanistan. She'd have to have one more box in her mind.

"But you weren't just beaten up Sam," Fletch said gently.

"Don't you think I know that?" Sam cried, a single tear slipping down her cheek, "I don't know what to do, I don't-"

Fletch gently placed a hand on her shoulder, realising he had pushed Sam too far. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for upsetting you," he apologised, but it was futile.

Still the tears kept rolling down her face, they were big fat silent tears, so different to the howling devastated sobs of earlier, these were tears of acceptance of a personal defeat. She had one arm wrapped around her ribs, supporting them through the sharp breaths she was taking. There has to be a way to keep this from Tom, her mind raced, to tell him that it would all be okay, that she wasn't broken, that she was just a bit bent out of shape, that time would heal everything. The thing was though, she didn't believe that time would heal what she was feeling. Not for her, not this time.

Fletch was caught in two minds as he struggled to deal with situation at hand. He considered going to get Zoe but at the same time it was him that had pushed Sam into this state and he should be the one to sort it out. Gently he reached around her shoulders desperately hoping that she would tolerate a hug. He didn't have anything else to give. She didn't flinch at the tentative contact and Fletch was encouraged.

"Sssh," he whispered, "it's okay," and she seemed to break at his words, collapsing in his arms and resting the uninjured side of her head on his chest. He brought his other arm around, entirely enveloping her in his embrace.

She sat like a child, her arms still wrapped around herself as she continued to cry those shaking, silent tears. It unnerved Fletch to see someone cry like that, almost completely silently. He couldn't remember a time when he had ever seen someone this broken. Fletch wasn't sure if he believed in a God but he prayed at that moment that Sam would get through this terrible ordeal.


When Zoe entered the room to bring Sam the flowers and dinner she was shocked to see her curled up in Fletch's arms. It looked like she was shivering with cold but as she came closer she realised Sam was crying.

"Zoe," Fletch said quietly, "Can you ring Tom, just, just tell him the basics. Is that okay Sam?" he asked the devastated woman.

She nodded against his chest. Zoe reached out and gently stroked Sam's hair. "You're doing the right thing Sam," she said kindly. She was relieved that whatever Fletch had done had convinced her she needed to let Tom know at least that she was injured. It was a start.


Butterflies fluttered in Zoe's stomach as the phone continued to ring. She just knew Tom would have a million questions and despite being friends with both Sam and Tom she had a responsibility to respect patient confidentiality. *2 more rings* come on Tom, she thought, though she had a picture in her head of him roaming the streets of Prague in a silly costume, too hammered to hear his phone ringing. It would be about 4pm his time, but it was a stag weekend, there was a distinct probability they had been drinking since yesterday. She shook her head as the phone rang again, it would switch to voice mail any minute and she wished it was Fletch out here making this call. She done this countless times, delivered bad news to relatives, but it always hurt worse when it was one of your own.

"Zoeeeee Hanna," a loud voice in her ear startled her out of her thoughts. There on the phone, was a very drunk Tom Kent. Before Zoe had a chance to speak Tom started blabbering away. "And to what do I owe this pleasure? Just a casual phone call? Checking up on me? No! No! I know, you're a spy, Sam's got you to spy on me. Am I right? Well you ca-"

"TOM," Zoe shouted down the phone immediately shutting him up.

Tom's stomach flipped at the tone of Zoe's voice and even in his inebriated state he could tell that something was wrong, "Zoe, what's going on?" he asked, his speech slightly slurred.

"Sam's been injured, she's out of the hospital, but you have to come home," Zoe informed him, almost shouting to get herself heard over the shouting and laughing in the background.

"What, how? Why? Where is she?" Tom asked, panicked, obviously not able to let his brain focus on one thing at a time.

"Tom calm down, she's –" Zoe paused as she searched for a suitable word to reassure Tom and realised she couldn't find one, "she's at my flat. She got mugged this morning," Zoe felt awful telling Tom a bare faced lie but she had to do what Sam had requested.

"No, no, she can't, where Zoe? Can I speak to her?" Zoe could hear the panic in his voice rising, being blind drunk in a country a plane ride away and getting this kind of news did not go well together.

"Tom, listen to me. She's safe at mine. She's asleep at the moment so you can't speak to her," another lie, "But she wants you to come home. Is there any way you can change your flight?"

She heard Tom shout to someone on his end and could hear snippets of the muffled conversation, a lot of swearing and some shouting.

"Zoe, Zoe, I'm going straight to the airport, getting the first plane home, I'll ring you when I know what time I'll get in," Tom was sounded more in control now. Nothing like the worst new to sober you up.

"Tom, be careful," Zoe warned, but Tom had already put the phone down. She found herself wishing that one, he would be able to get a flight considering the state he was in and two, that he sobered up big time before he got back. Zoe sighed. This was going to be a long night.


So there was a little bit of Tom in this & quite a lot of Sam and Fletch friendship because I love it! Thanks so much for reading xx