Connie revved her bike above the speed limit in her desperate and reckless search for Grace. In the darkness, every body under five foot resembled her eldest child and Connie racked her brain to picture the clothes Grace had worn to their earlier therapy session. Her memory faltered, not unlike the first time Grace had disappeared. Connie indicated onto one of the darker side streets near the city-link. Hopeless, she momentarily contemplated the option to return home and contact the police - she abruptly tabled the possibility when she noticed the sullen shadow curled up on a wooden bench, knees clasped to her chest. Grace...

Connie swiftly removed her helmet, once she pulled up beside the child. "Gracie." The adolescent lifted her tear-stained face and battled to catch her breath between each sob. Her mother audibly winced, "Oh, sweetheart." Her sympathy only served to inflame Grace's emotion, who promptly leapt to her feet and thundered down the pavement. "Grace." Connie hurriedly hopped off the bike and chased her on-foot.

"Leave me alone." Grace had succumbed to the kind of fury that rendered everyone in the world her victim.

"Gracie, stop," her mother desperately ordered, as Grace strayed further from her physical reach. "Grace." Connie sprinted toward the child and enveloped a reluctant Grace into her embrace. "Don't run away from me. Don't ever do that," her mother pleaded, yet her panicked tone resembled that of a scold. "I was so worried about you." After minimal and exhausted resistance, Grace collapsed into her mothers arms and cried until it seemed there were no tears left.

"He lied," Grace spluttered, preoccupied by her fathers betrayal. "He told me it was all your idea; that I would be better off with him in America. He took me away from you and you let him." She wrenched herself free of Connie's physical hold and stared her mother down. Her mother was the most formidable woman Grace had ever known; it would be a cold day in hell before Connie Beauchamp ever compromised - except when it concerned Grace, or so it seemed. She wondered if she was destined to forever play second fiddle to her mothers work, or her perhaps third since the arrival of her baby brother and her mothers obvious devotion to him.

"Grace, that isn't fair. You were so happy in New York," Connie defensively recalled the FaceTime they had shared, when she had finally reached Grace and had been forced to stifle her own sadness. "You said were thrilled to be back with your friends," she shook her head. As she stumbled over spluttered words, "… and your old school."

"Because I didn't think you wanted me here." Sometimes, Grace wondered if her mother wanted her at all.

There was a moment of silence, as her mother reflected back to the last time Grace had been under the impression she was unwanted, unloved. Her heart ached with the memory of the visceral panic attack Grace once succumbed to in her office. "Grace, I have always wanted you here." Connie suppressed her own tears, "Sweetheart, if I had any idea how unhappy you were, I would have flown you home in a heartbeat." Grace seemed mildly placated by those words. Connie softened her entire approach and cupped Grace's face in between her hands, "I was so miserable without you." Had it not been for Henry, Connie didn't dare to envision the pit of despair she could have fallen into. She curled her arms around her body and softly patted Grace on the back, "Come on, babe, come home with me."

Grace physically resisted her mother's direction, "No, I don't want to." Grace shook her head, "Not while he's there."

Connie attempted to brush off the comment, with a small smile. "Gracie, your dad loves you -"

"I don't care, I hate him," Grace furiously spat the cause for her decision to flee her home. "He deliberately kept us apart. He stole me away from you." Connie forcibly suppressed the resentment that Grace's own fury threatened to resurrect. "If it wasn't for him, I would never have left for America. I would have been here in Holby with you all this time."

"Your dad made a stupid, silly mistake, Grace... but he did it out of love for you. He had the best of intentions for you." Connie calmly defended Sam, even if she hadn't quite allowed herself to reconcile the betrayal on an internal level yet.

"He only cares about himself," Grace vehemently dismissed her mothers defence. "I hate him."

Connie internally reconciled the stubbornness of her own child - she was every inch the mini-Beauchamp. "Sweetheart, believe me, I don't like it any more than you do but what's done is done. He's still your dad and he will always love you." Her words of wisdom were for herself, as much as Grace. "It's time to move on. We're a family and we need to learn to live with one another." Grace's heels were firmly planted and Connie realised she was fresh out of options, as she calmly repeated her request. "Gracie, please come home."

"Mum..." Grace's attention had quite clearly been captured and Connie followed her line of vision to the dimly lit footpath built across the dual-road that linked the city for daily commute. "There's someone there," Grace confirmed her mother's suspicion. Even from their distance, it was obvious the individual had somehow climbed the safety barrier and they appeared so small.

Connie swallowed the fearful lump in her throat and held Grace in position. She pulled Grace's coat taut around her body to protect her from the chill, brushed her hair from her forehead to plant her kiss and softly murmured her instruction, "Stay here." Connie cautiously inched up the concrete steps that elevated into an arch shape. "Hello. Can you hear me?" The late-hour traffic below drowned out any hope of an audible response and Connie proceeded toward the individual. "Hello?" She had been privy to too many moments like this in her life and had become eerily accustomed to the kind of calm and assurance required to resolve the situation safely for all. With ease, she delicately reached inside her coat pocket for her mobile phone and readied herself for the inevitable 999 call. Her heartbeat quickened, as she looked toward Connie and the torment in her eyes was plain to see.

"Mum..." Grace beckoned her mother and had visibly strayed from the position which Connie left her in.

"Grace, wait -" Connie's attention momentarily strayed to her child, who as usual had failed to follow instructions. By the time she returned her focus back to the overpass, a blur of yellow descend into the traffic stream below and Grace's panicked scream was lost within the screech of multiple tyres and eventual clash of metal.


Multiple casualties, two fatalities and immeasurable trauma to all their psyche - Connie almost collapsed with relief at the days end.

"Mum," the voice enticed her into the protective sphere of her office. Grace circled her arms around Connie's waist and rested her head on her mothers chest. With no option but to observe her mothers heroics from within the safety of an ambulance, Grace became overwhelmed with pride; her mother directed an entire army of first responders and saved the lives of nearly all involved.

Connie squeezed the little body to her own. No doubt, the aftermath of the incident would hit them all hard in the months ahead. She wondered if there would ever be reprieve - sometimes, it seemed like her life travelled from one catastrophe to the next. Sam - and Henry, in his car seat - lay in wait on the sofa. "Hi," she awarded Sam the smallest of smiles, uncertain if she failed to read the tension between him and Grace, or if it really had dissolved in her absence.

"Gracie and I talked it out," he confirmed, his hand steady on her shoulders.

Grace looked assuredly at her father and repeated her mothers earlier words, "It's time to move on. We're a family and that's all that matters." Sam enveloped their embrace with his own and Connie resolved to bask in her bittersweet moment of happiness, until the next disaster destroyed it, as so often the pattern of her life insisted.