Author's Note: This is a momentous chapter in the story and I loved writing it. I hope it reads well! Just a bit of mush really after the gloomy path the story began to take...Please R&R – desperate to know your opinions.


Chapter 9 – Epiphany

I was still lying in the same bed, in the same ward, in the same hospital as I had been three days ago... Everything was the same. Nadia was taking extremely good care of me, not that I expected she wouldn't, Michael had spent almost every waking moment at my bedside without knowing my diagnosis, none of my family had a clue where I really was – they still believed I was on a spa vacation. But, I knew my time to keep secrets and to hide the truth was running out fast and I needed to think of something to do.

A new day was just dawning, I could see the sun start to shine over the world through the musty window and I thought it was divine, nature's way of telling me to begin again. I had never been amazed by sunrise or any such event, probably because I had never been dying before now, but since Nadia told me the news, each small miracle of nature had seemed the most wonderful and beautiful thing on earth. I thought about what I would have been doing had I not been lying in the hospital at this time and as I closed my eyes to imagine and dream, I pictured myself in the on-call room at Holby, just waking up to a brand new day on AAU and finding my makeup bag to begin my daily ritual.

To please Michael, I had started wearing the clothes he had bought me from Gucci – only the nightdresses, mind – but they were the most gorgeous nightclothes I had ever worn – I must have been the most overdressed patient in the entire world, but it helped to keep me perky. As my thoughts rested on Michael, I glanced up at the clock and I saw that soon he would be arriving at the hospital, as he had every day at the same time, just like clockwork. Since he would not be here for a while though, I decided I could float back off to sleep until he came...

I woke up later, when the hospital was in the rhythm of a full working day, but I did not spare a passing thought for any of the people who were now in the ward. The entirety of my mind had focused on the limp form of a man who was sprawled across my legs...fast asleep! I smiled to myself, as he must have arrived some time ago, but did not want to rouse me. I knew that Michael's efforts to do things for me and get to the hospital very nearly at dawn was taking its toll, but equally I was aware he had made his mind up to be with me and nothing I could do or say would ever change it. I would have let the man who was deep in sleep remain so, but unfortunately, one of the reasons I had woken up was that my legs had begun to feel funny, as I was getting pins and needles in them, so it was necessary to revive him.

I shoved him, "Michael!"

He let out a moan, "Please, ten more minutes..."

I held back a laugh at this grown man's childish, sleepy request, "No, Michael! Michael, you've made my legs go to sleep. Wake up!"

Upon hearing that he was actually causing me physical discomfort, he sat bolt upright and smoothed down the covers of the blanket over my legs. "Sorry!"

I smiled, relieved that normal feeling was returning to the lower half of my body, "Michael, it's fine. But thank you for waking up and I'm sorry I had to." I gave him a warm grin, "you looked so peaceful."

He chuckled lightly at my kind words, but gripped my hand in his warm one and squeezed as thanks. We sat in that arrangement for a while, until another sensation took hold of my body. Making sure my nightdress was guarding my modesty; I excused myself and got out of bed, about to walk to the toilet.

Suddenly, Michael said "Frieda! Don't forget your IV!"

In my still sleepy daze, I had forgotten that I was connected to the IV drip and I was about to trip over it, so Michael had saved me from an embarrassing and painful accident. I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity, gripped the metal stand and continued on my way, saying to Michael with a wink, "Don't go anywhere...I'll be right back!"


When I got back to my bed, I found a distressing and alarming sight. Michael was sitting on the bed, facing me with a confused and...furious expression. The reason for his rage and agony was plain to see – my medical notes were lying open before him on the bed. He knew! I stopped abruptly, not knowing how to deal with this unexpected, new turn of events.

"Frieda..." his voice was tinged with suppressed outrage and disbelief, so much that I was frightened by his tone.

I knew that I was close to bursting into tears in the middle of a thronging ward, but I restrained myself. That didn't change the fact that I had no clue how to deal with Michael knowing that I didn't have much time left – much time with him left... That was the truth that was heartbreaking, not that I wouldn't have enough time to go back to Holby, not that it would be a miracle if I saw Sonaya married...but that I had only just started something genuine and real with Michael and it would never lead anywhere because I wouldn't be around.

I collected myself and slowly made my way back to bed, pushing aside the paperwork so that I could sit facing Michael, my face within inches of his. I laid my hand gently on his cheek. "Michael?" I asked nervously.

He just looked at me, staring into the depths of my eyes for a long time. I gazed back and noticed a coat of water cover his beautiful brown eyes as tears formed. He took shallow, heaving breaths and eventually, he asked with a breaking voice, "Why? Why, Frieda?" he grabbed my arms strongly, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

The resentment permeating his voice, directed wholly at me for not keeping him in the loop and making him deceive my mama, was truly heartbreaking. The intense feeling that he projected at me weakened my own resolve and the only thing I could do with my own feelings of disappointment and grief was to cry, so I cried and went to the only place in the world where I now felt safe – Michael's arms. I threw myself into him with such force that you would never have suspected I was so sick. He, momentarily forgetting his own anger, allowed me to rest my head against his shoulder and to cry tears into his shirt and quickly pulled me closer as his arms wrapped protectively around my failing body.

He comforted me until my sobs waned, stroking my hair and hushing me, but once I had calmed down, he pushed me away from him, but kept his hands on the sides of my face. He looked at me once more and in a less riled voice, asked me, "Why?"

I wiped away the last of my tears and began my explanation, "Michael...Michael, I didn't have the strength to tell you. I didn't have the strength to tell anyone! But it was harder for me to contemplate telling you that I have a few weeks at most to live than my family." I looked at him sadly, "You have become so important to me and I care about you so much and we've just started something special and I didn't want it to end, so I decided not to tell you."

He interrupted me, part of his anger returning, "So you thought you'd let me know by you just dropping dead one day while we were out?"

I peered into my lap, ashamed by my response, "Yes. I know that sounds bad, Michael, but I just didn't have the words and I thought that at least if you had no idea just how ill I really was, then we wouldn't have a shadow hanging over us...we could just be together."

Michael immediately pulled me closer and laid his lips gently but full of passion on mine, then said, "Frieda, we are together. But you never should have even thought that not telling me was a good idea. I want to try and help you – I think Nadia's given up your time too quickly." He began to flick through the notes, "You could have more time, with the right operation and treatment. It's not as hopeless as she let you think, Frieda."

I had already read and assessed my own notes, so I knew that Michael was desperately clutching at straws. Not only that, but I knew that chemotherapy would have been the only option to win back more time were we in the United Kingdom, but we weren't and I couldn't – and wouldn't – undergo chemotherapy in Kiev. I wanted the remaining time I had to be spent with Michael and fully aware of who and what was going on, even if I spent it in this bed.

"No, Michael." Now it was me holding his hands firmly, "I've seen the notes and I know what I want and how I want to spend my last days. I do not want to be a ghost of Frieda while I'm still here, suffering from chemotherapy – I want to be me Frieda."

Michael's face betrayed his frustration at me for refusing treatment, but he didn't know that chemotherapy in Ukraine was an incredibly unviable option and I wasn't well enough to travel home. I did feel sorry for Michael for having to deal with all this when he only came here for a holiday... I did now have to make something crystal clear to him, "Michael, I still do not want my family to find out about all of this. There is still Sonaya's wedding and her future is more important than anything to do with me now."

He looked at me aghast, "Frieda! How can you say that? You're right, Sonaya does have a future, but your time now is more important because they...we won't ever be able to get this time back. Sonaya can get married anytime!"

I was moved by his concern and my being his priority, but I would not let him have his own way in this – no way! "Michael! It is one of my last and final wishes that I die knowing Sonaya is married. Please, don't fight me in this – I haven't got the time!" I was being overly harsh to this caring and feeling man, who was just trying to do what he thought was best for me, but I was not about to let him sabotage my sister's wedding for me. "You'll have to ring my mama again and tell her I extended my break...she'll be angry, but there's nothing else to be done."

Michael's shoulders fell as he gave into my desires and requests. I knew I was asking something unforgivable and inhuman of him, but I had to do this...for my own peace of mind. Michael hesitantly removed his mobile from his pocket and dialled my number. When he told my mama what I had just said, I could hear her shouting at him down the phone. I stroked his hand gently as he received her rage and tried to calm her down unsuccessfully but then mama hung up the phone and Michael laid his hand upon mine stopping my ministrations.

He took my hand from his, but then opened his arms for me to scuttle into his warm embrace. I did not falter for a single moment. I clambered into his lap, sitting with my back pressed against his front, his arms around mine and I could feel his warm, comforting breath down my neck. He held me tightly, not willing to part with me, as he knew he would have to eventually, but not yet...

We sat in that attitude for hours on hours. From time to time, I cried but Michael pulled me even closer to him and rocked me gently, laying tender kisses on my neck. I knew in that moment, if I didn't before, which I suspect I did that Michael was the man I loved. He was the man I loved with all my heart, all my soul and all my being. He was the only man I had ever loved, aside from my father, but he was the only man who made me feel whole and complete. We were such an unlikely pair that somehow we had become a perfect pair. In a split second, without actually deciding to, I declared myself, "Michael, I love you."

He turned me round in an instant to face him, understanding the gravitas of my confession. He stared, searching my eyes, at me for a moment but then pressed his lips powerfully to mine and kissed me with such fire and passion that my heart once again melted. He withdrew after some time, pulled my head from his so our faces were once again almost touching and said, almost in a whisper, "I love you too, Frieda."

I smiled, so glad that he returned my love that no words were adequate now. So, there was nothing to be done except to kiss him once again with renewed strength, strength I really didn't have, but strength which his love had given me. We kissed in the same bed, in the same ward, in the same hospital where I had been for three days – but now, Michael Spence loved me...