The sun basked him in its warmth. The crashing of the waves against the shore were music to his ears. A cream parasol partially covered as he wanted a nice tan but not one that made him a lobster. Rose's letter was by his side, recently stained by his tears. He had been a bastard to her. A complete and utter fucking bastard. She loved him dearly and he pushed her away. He felt so angry with himself. He treated her in a way that he detested. He understood her decision. He would never hold it against her. He knew that Rose was trying to help him but in his stupid pride, he thought that she knew nothing about what he was going through. He couldn't even try and fathom out what the hell possessed him to punch her. Perhaps it was a sign. A sign that his mental state was getting out of control. Maybe he, like Rose suggested, should get help.

The imposed leave in Gozo turned out to be beneficial to him. It was nice to take a break from the dreariness and death from Malta. He removed his dark sunglasses and glanced at the crystal waters of the pool. It looked very inviting. The hotel wasn't heaving with visitors but there were people around. He stood up from his deckchair and finished off the remains of the ice-cold lemonade he got from the stand on his way to the pool. It was quite refreshing. He grabbed a pot of Glacier Cream from his holdall and applied to his arms, chest, face and legs. The lotion felt cool against his hot skin. He was careful to not get any on his blue swimming trunks. They were a little more snug than he liked but he got them at a good price. He walked to the tempting waters, being careful not to slip on the tiled floor. As his foot hit the icy water, he let out a small yelp as the cold liquid began to freeze his nerves. However, he conquered the frozen beast and went further into the depths until the water was up to his Grecian God sculpted chest. He glanced over at the horizon. He felt so small, compared to the deep spa pool. He felt so much better in himself. Instead of harming, he chose to write music as he had a stint in the local tavern as its piano player. It had been a while since he played but he was excellent. He hoped that a child of his would have the same interest.

The Colonel telephoned him to say that his plane would be coming at 9:00 am sharp tomorrow morning so he had better be ready. Patrick was looking forward to it. All of his anxiety and worry were washed away by the sea. He felt like a new man. Earlier, he had noticed the raven-haired beauty that he saw when he first arrived. She was still bewitching as ever, wearing a light-blue low-cut top, long white skirt and golden bandana. The fire in his loins was stoked once more. She walked past him and smiled, which aroused him further. Before the fire got out of control, he placed his book of medical mysteries over it, to avoid embarrassing the young lady.

After a while in the ocean, he walked out, feeling chilly as the wind blew over him. As he went to collect his things, he couldn't help but feel that something was coming. An ill omen. He pushed it aside. He always seemed to find the worst in things. He headed back to the hotel to pack his things. Tomorrow would be a fresh start.

….

"Ah, Captain Turner. Back to join us, I see?"

The booming of the Colonel's voice welcomed Patrick as he headed down to the ward. He noted that the nurses looked as gorgeous as ever. He saw some new faces, which was delightful. There was nothing better than new blood on the ward. The Colonel was chatting to one of the doctors. As he dismissed the doctor, he offered Patrick a handshake.

"So glad to see you again, Turner. How are you?"

"Never been better, sir. It was just the thing I needed."

"Excellent. Now, I hope we don't witness your temper again, Captain."

"You won't, sir. While I was away, I found something to help with my feelings."

The Colonel smiled. Patrick had an inkling of what the Colonel thought the something was. Alas, he would be sadly mistaken.

"And what was it, Captain?"

"Music, sir."

"Music?"

"Yes, sir. Back in Liverpool, I played the piano and wrote my own music. It was wonderful to have the time to do it again."

"That is wonderful news, Turner. I'm glad to have you back.

Patrick nodded. Even though he had been gone for a week, he missed the work and banter with the other staff. Of course, there were many in the hospital that reminded him of Rose. The flowers in the windows, the green grass, even the music playing in the background. He deeply regretted his treatment of her, not to mention the spite he used against her. He wrote to apologise and that he was wrong to treat her in the way that he did. He told her that he completely understood her choice and asked her if they could still be friends. She agreed and they both promised to send each other letters. It uplifted his mood even more. He also told her about his feelings, not all of them as he didn't wish to overwhelm her. She empathised with him greatly and told him that he was a brave man. She told him about the devastation in London and Liverpool. She was seconded to Liverpool as they had enough workers in London. Tears streamed from Patrick's eyes as she mentioned that the street he lived with his parents had been destroyed entirely. However, she had seen his father and told him that his son was doing alright.

She ended the letter by saying she was due on duty any minute. Patrick could breathe easy. He felt a huge weight being lifted when he started to write to her. It felt as if nothing could bring him down.

Anyway, he had a job to do and patients to treat. The first one on the list was a young mother carrying triplets. He was quite excited as there was nothing more heart-warming than welcoming new life.

…..

The trees were swaying violently as the wind was picking up. Patrick sensed that a storm was coming. He was outside in the designated smoking area, having a puff of his Henley's. The birth went quite well. The firstborn was quite stubborn as it refused to budge but, with some help, it came out of the canal with ease. The second came out with no trouble but the third was breached so Patrick had to do an ECV by applying pressure on her abdomen. After a while, the baby was turned the right way and was delivered safely. Both the woman and her husband were overjoyed that all three were healthy. There was two girls and a boy. Patrick placed them in the trolleys and placed them near the mother's side. To Patrick, it was the best feeling in the world.

As he finished the cigarette, he reflected on his recent experiences. Some were good, others were quite bad. But they were all shaping him as an individual. He had the knowledge of things that he had never known before. He walked up back to the ward, leaving the blustery wind behind. A metallic scent offended his nostrils. It smelt like blood. So bitter. The first thought to cross his mind was that some poor bugger was bleeding out somewhere. He sprinted towards the ward. He pushed back the doors to find that the room was completely clean. Where was it coming from?

"Excuse me, Nurse?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Can you smell blood?"

The nurse shot him a puzzled look.

"There's no smell of blood, Captain."

"But there must be. I can virtually taste on my tongue."

Patrick looked around, panic stricken. There was no blood on the wards, no spillage anywhere. He was certain that he could smell it.

"Are you alright, Captain?"

Patrick was unsure on how to answer that. Physically, he was alright. Mentally, he had no idea, Surely his mind wasn't playing tricks on him?

"I'm... I'm alright, Nurse. Just a little tired."

Patrick looked at the nurse. For some reason, he couldn't see the nurse's face, for it was all twisted and distorted. He took a step back, worrying the nurse.

"Is everything alright?"

The Colonel had witnessed the conversation between Patrick and the nurse. He was fearful for Patrick's mind.

"I think there's something wrong with the Captain, sir."

The Colonel could see that Patrick was on the verge of collapse. Patrick's feet gave way from underneath him, the colonel lunging forward to catch him.

"I'm alright, sir. It's just the nerves from the flight.

"As well as that may be, Turner, you're coming into my office."

"But sir …"

"But nothing, man. That's an order."

The Colonel and the nurse helped Patrick back up on his feet. The Colonel placed Patrick's left arm around his neck and placed his other hand underneath Patrick's right arm to keep him upright. He dragged Patrick to his office and dropped him on the leather couch, placing a pillow underneath his head. He poured a glass of the finest brandy and gave it to Patrick to drink.

"It will help with your nerves."

"Thank you, sir."

The Colonel grabbed a chair and placed it opposite Patrick. He wasn't the type to leave things unsaid.

"Are you alright, Turner?"

"Yes, sir. Just shaken."

"We both know that isn't true."

Patrick understood. He had a feeling that nothing would escape the Colonel's all-seeing eye. He looked down at the glass of amber nectar. He didn't want to talk about it, but he soon realised that the Colonel was going to make him.

"It's better to get things off your chest, Turner. You would feel a lot better for it..."

"I know, sir."
"Well?"

Patrick sighed. He wasn't one to divulge how he was feeling. It was the pride in him. No man wants to tell anyone that they are suffering and that they couldn't cope with what was expected of them.

"It's just, there's so much death. I mean, occasionally, we have a birth or two, but the cycle of death never ends. It just gets me down."

"And causes you to hurt yourself?"

Patrick stared at the Colonel in disbelief.

"How did you know?"

"Nurse O'Beirne told me. She was worried to death about you. She just wanted to help."

Patrick went silent. He felt even worse about her. She was looking out for him and he had no idea. The guilt of hurting her didn't lighten his mood.

"I see. Don't worry about me, sir. It's just a phase. It will go in time."

"I hope, for your sake, it does, Patrick."

Patrick smiled. He had always regarded the Colonel as a friend and colleague, rather than his boss. The Colonel felt the same, seeing Patrick as more of a younger brother. Patrick gulped down the brandy, feeling its fiery taste burning down his throat and hitting his stomach.

"That brandy was just what I needed, sir. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Are you feeling much better?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, take it easy. If anything like that happens again, inform me immediately."

"I will, sir."

"Good. If you feel up to it, you can resume your duties."

Patrick lifted himself from the sofa and placed the glass on the Colonel's desk.

"Right, I'll go back now, sir."
"Alright, Patrick. Just be careful."

Patrick moved to the door and left the room. The Colonel's heart was filled with dread. To him, Patrick was barely hanging on and could go off at any minute. He could easily remove him from duty permanently, but he saw how dedicated Patrick was to his job and to his patients. He just hoped that Patrick would hold on to his sanity long enough so that he wouldn't harm others.