Days passed and nothing got any easier – they just got better at coping. Michael spent every second of every day walking on eggshells, terrified of upsetting her, invariably managing to find the worst possible thing to say and say it. He wasn't sure whether she hated him for it as much as he hated himself. They were both utterly exhausted from a lack of sleep and a surfeit of emotion. On a nightly basis she would manage about an hour's sleep before retreating to the kitchen, terrified to fall asleep and relive the inevitable nightmare again, and he couldn't bring himself to sleep knowing that she was sitting beneath him lost in her own personal hell. Instead he sat with her for hours, saying nothing, just being there.

A week passed and her bruises had all but healed. Gradually she was sleeping for a little longer each night and each morning she would wake with more of her legendary defences built around her. She thought she was getting back to normality. Now only Michael could see beyond the façade to the pain that lay within. It was on the Monday about ten days following the attack that she surprised him by walking into the kitchen wearing her favourite Gucci suit and Prada heels, an outfit that never failed to put her in a good mood. He immediately knew that this was her way of telling him she was ready to place the final piece of the jigsaw that was rebuilding her life. She had clearly decided it was time that she got over the 'flu' she had been off work with for over a week and returned to her domain.

'You look nice' he said slowly, praying that it was the right thing to say. These days she would lash out at the most innocuous comment and he never knew what would provoke the next attack.

'I have to go back to work at some point' she snapped defensively, clearly finding some implied criticism in his comment although there had been none 'today is as good a day as any other'

'I just said you looked nice' he replied sadly and returned to his paper, wishing that she would stop being so defensive 'are you sure you're ready for this?' he added throwing caution to the wind. Since she was taking even the most innocuous compliment as an insult these days he couldn't see what he had to lose.

'I can't hide away forever' she replied dully 'the longer I leave it the harder it will be. He won't try anything at the hospital anyway'

'Do you honestly think you'll be able to make small talk over the triple bypass like you used to?' he asked and she stared furiously at him, amazed that he didn't seem to be able to understand her any more. This added fuel to her fear that her marriage would be the next casualty of the attack.

'I don't think that I have a lot of choice, Michael' she snapped angrily 'All my hiding away here for the rest of my days will achieve is that he will think he's won. He will have won. I won't have that'

'I suppose' he agreed reluctantly, knowing her well enough to know that she wouldn't be persuaded. All he could do now was wait to pick up the pieces because he couldn't believe that Zubin would be able to resist a quiet gloating word in her ear at the very least.

'Are you working today?' she asked and he shrugged. He had intended to take time off work until he felt he could leave her alone but if she was working there was nothing stopping him 'will you drive me in?'

'Of course' he sighed heavily, knowing that there was no point in arguing about it. It was a row he couldn't hope to win.

By the time they pulled up in their executive parking space the façade was in place. To anyone who didn't know better she seemed confident, she seemed arrogant and she seemed cold. Only to Michael did she seem broken.

'Are you sure you're ready for this?' he asked softly as he put on the hand brake and turned to her, concern burning in his eyes.

'As I'll ever be…' she took a deep breath and threw open the car door. For a moment she paused, her face glazing over as she laid eyes on the location of her nightmares and he thought she was going to throw up. Then, just as quickly, the haunted expression was replaced with a large, almost certainly false, smile and she greeted her approaching colleague with something that looked a lot like pleasure.

'Are you feeling better?' he heard Tricia enquire with an element of caring in her voice as they headed for the lift that would take them to Darwin. The doors closed before he had a chance to get in himself so he had no choice but to wait for the next lift to take him up to the executive floor. As he hovered he caught sight of the person he had hoped to hear had met an untimely end during their week off. Clearly he wasn't going to be so lucky.

'Michael' Zubin gave him a cursory nod as they waited for the next lift

'Zubin' he replied, barely able to disguise the hostility in his voice. This man, this pathetic little worm, was the monster who had destroyed his wife and now by some cruel twist of fate he had to work alongside him as though nothing had happened.

'After you' a smile crossed Zubin's face and Michael stepped in first, struggling to rein in his natural instinct to show the other man the true meaning of pain. He was certain that Connie wouldn't thank him for it but the mere idea of Zubin going unpunished made him feel physically sick.

'ITU?' he asked as the doors closed and he went to press the relevant buttons

'No, executive floor. I have a meeting with Joanna' Zubin gave a slimy smile as it occurred to Michael that he was going to have 8 floors one on one with Zubin. More than enough time to let him know what he thought of him