She sat on the examination table in her office, her head resting on Gordon's shoulder, her face pressed to his neck as she savoured the feeling of being close to him. His hand stroked her back, the feeling familiar, yet new; it seemed so long since he had shown such tenderness towards her.

She'd eventually calmed in reception, offering no resistance as Gordon helped her to her feet and guided her to her office, making her lie on the bed at the far side of the room. He stood next to her, running a hand through her hair, his eyes holding such concern as he assured himself once again that she was indeed uninjured. She sat up, coaxing him to settle next to her, allowing her to close the distance between them as the tears started once again.

She was utterly embarrassed at her show of emotion in the full view of her colleagues and patients in reception. It wasn't even the fall that was the reason. She wasn't injured, merely winded. It was Gordon. The concern, the tenderness he had shown her, it was as if the past few weeks hadn't happened and their relationship was as close as it had ever been. She'd felt such a rush of emotion as Gordon held her; upset, confusion, hope, relief. It was all so powerful, she couldn't hold it back, despite the crowd of people standing over her, and it only intensified as Gordon pulled her closer.

She raised her head from his shoulder as she felt him shift. His hold was suddenly different, his arms looser, his body tenser. No longer did he rub her back soothingly, his fingers, too, were tense. "Gordon?" She questioned quietly, fearfully as dread suddenly filled her.

"I, er..." He cleared his throat, releasing her from his arms. "I have to go..." He refused to meet her eyes as he stood up, putting yet more distance between them.

"Please Gordon, stay." She gripped his hand, her eyes desperately searching his as she chocked out the words through threatening sobs.

Still, he refused to meet her eyes, his instead fixed intently on the carpet. But for a moment, just a moment, his thumb glided over the back of her hand in a gesture he so often used as comfort, or relief, or just to form some connection between them.

"Please." She implored, placing her other hand on his chest. "Gordon..." She sobbed, giving in to the emotions once again as his slipped his hand from hers, and moved away, towards the door, creating a distance between them that wasn't just physical. "Gordon!"

The door clicked shut.

"Doctor Ormerod."

Gordon sighed and stopped, turning in Matron's direction with the politest expression he could muster.

"How's Doctor Weatherill?"

"Erm..." He struggled, he couldn't very well tell her he'd just left Doctor Weatherill sobbing in her office. "No injuries, she was just a little winded I think." He chose the safe option, stick to his professional capacity, it was the truth, at least. He took a step backwards, towards his office, hoping to signal an end to the conversation, but Matron seemed not to realise.

"The man who hit her, Mr Bernadette, he was fairly drunk and very much in pain. He just swung his arm randomly, Jill just happened to be in the way, I don't think there was any malice in it."

"Thanks Matron." He said, taking another shuffling step towards his door. He began to feel uncomfortable as she continued to stay, looking at him. "Well... I must get on. Patients..." He trailed off, gesturing randomly behind him in the vague direction of his office door.

"Of course." Matron said, still looking at him as if she had something more to say.

He flashed an awkward smile at her and quickly retreating to his office and shutting the door firmly between him and the rest of the hospital, relieved to be away from the older woman's penetrating gaze. He'd had the strange feeling she knew more than she was letting on, more than he would have liked her to know. Panic of being found out had crept upon him as he had stood before her. The guilt that had begun as soon as he'd released his distraught wife intensified as he realised the impact of his actions through the fact that Matron would be thoroughly disgusted in him, to put it mildly, if she found out. But it came nowhere near the level of disgust and hatred he felt of himself. Still, he couldn't bring himself to return to Jill, apologise to her and give her the comfort and love she so desperately wanted.