Sorry for the delay, I'll blame school, my life :P yes I have one rolls eyes and general laziness, this part comes with a warning about disturbing content, my warped mind playing tricks once again.

9. Faraway Voice

"Then unfortunately ladies and gentlemen I shall have to accept Connie's resignation, I'd like to formally thank Mrs Beauchamp for all the hard work she put in during her short stint here" the resounding 'here, here' bore too much of a scary resemblance to that of in Holby, biggest difference though would have to have been one voice was missing, Ric had at least put feeling into his remorseful regret. She smile weakly as they all rose from the table, each one passing her a solemn nod on their way out of the door, all except Michael. He'd clearly been waiting for his moment all day, she'd appeared first thing in the morning, choosing to spend the day cooped in her office, supposedly sorting out paperwork, avoidance by any other word. Only emerging with her purple notebook in hand and a wicked smile to match, she'd dutifully followed him into the room. Sitting opposite him on the elegant mahogany table, facing him directly, close enough for piercing stares, far enough away to quell the urge to hit him.

Fury was quantifying itself by the rising bile thrusting up her throat. The first time had been bad, the second attack was supposed to make her immune, have a stronger response; it wasn't. Her body was indecisive, tearing between falling into Michael's arms, forgetting the fact he'd near enough orchestrated her redundancy, returning home to Holby and regaining power or doing neither and drinking herself into a state, lower than low.

As she slipped into the unfamiliarity of her office she was aware of his footsteps behind her, able to at least provide an iota of sense to check that she was actually ok, rather put up a front that he cared, they were both vehemently aware of the fact the point of infatuation with the other had been lost years ago, the point of caring for the other was fast drifting to the noted abyss. In all honesty if he were to die tomorrow she wouldn't be terribly upset. As she came to sit on the desk chair the faint tinkling of glass, his ideas similar to hers, drinking themselves out of discussing, out of having to face the harsh truths of passing more than a polite conversational word between them. If she were in any a better mood she'd start talking to him, purely for the entertainment of watching him squirm violently. Talking, rather counselling was something Michael didn't take kindly to, unless it was of a nature that required sexual interruption.

"Look I'm really sorry Connie, it was out of my hands,"

"I'm sure it was Michael, but a little support wouldn't have gone a miss," her fury was missed by no one, the casual stun she added to it, venomous with the gentle force of a cat purring, silent rage boiling over intensely.

"Connie we needed to act in the best interests of the trust, after all a bad hospital doesn't get many patients, does it? Without patients, no funding, no funding no hospital,"

"I'm not two years old" came her spitting response; it was one thing to deny her of support in the board room, that much was known and commonplace, but to continue his pride bashing speeches out with was grating at best. At worst it annoyed so much as to tri fold her anger, on severe occasions spiralling out of control. Combining his lack of interest in the health of her soul, neglect of satisfaction in the bedroom department and the general sleaze ball manner he was rapidly adopting, she was pushing the limits of acceptance.

"But you do know it will benefit the greater good of the hospital, right?" coming from the one man-lets save the hospital machine it was normal, she'd never married that person, she'd married the strong caring tower of wisdom, even if it had been for a bet. No matter how much she avoided that thought it remained tremulous in her mind, tormenting her when all other ideas were absent, the quiet moments.

"Michael is that all you care about, your hospital, does it not cross your single tracked mind that you have a wife, the possibility of a family, a life outside this place"

"You're hardly angelic yourself, Connie, I know you're playing away too," he smiled coyly, taking pride in watching her squirm, another one of the silent games that they played with each other, neither willing to admit it.

"Says he who got caught pants down on my ward,"

"Hardly, I was merely reassuring her that you weren't as bad as she thought you were"

"Michael you were screwing my registrar, just like you rode the bike in Holby, Michael you never change, never have done, never will do," her voice lay heavy in the tumultuous idea of uneasy defeat, the idea of a long walk in the park, thoughts in hand of little comfort.

"Connie I love you, they, they mean nothing to me, trust me" and how many times had that been said, Ric had been right, he used her, dropped her, took her back, used her… it was a vicious cycle which was about to started all over again, start the monotonous dance, sway from right to left, as per usual, have the ultimate make up sex, usually involving him going at 100mph turning over and collapsing into a deep slumber, unlike the way she wanted it, the way she enjoyed it, having fun yes but it was more to her, a power tool in given circumstances, a beautiful sacred bond to be cherished in others, the latter supposed to be with your husband, your soul mate, the problem she was facing was attempting to decide which she preferred, her soul mate or her husband.

"Michael, Michael just leave it, I'm going home," the smile subconsciously telling him not to bother returning home in the near future, picking up her bag she stalked from his intimidating hunch, taking her coat as she glided out of the room, the click of her heels moving down the linoleum clad floor. Turning the corner and drifting off towards the door with deep-seated anger and force he winced as the door to the ward slammed shut, staff's fearful footsteps in its wake.

A momentary pause and he was still stood there, swithering like she often did, daring his soul to go after her, hiding behind his conscience. Decisions with Connie needed to be made snap, quick, undeceive, straight to the point. Picking up his winter coat and brief case he made a point at trying to catch her before she started a strident walk home. If she were determined enough it were possible to do it in an hour, meeting her at home could at least be a surprise for her, nasty perhaps, but he was beginning to see through her initial façade, see through the shield she put up even to him, it wasn't a matter of comfort per say, it was more of belonging. His emotional intelligence stretched far enough to understand the subtleties of her being angry and her hurting; being in a mixture of both was not conducive for anyone, least of all him.

The car park was deathly still, only a few luxurious cars lining its outer rims, the sign of hard working consultants; his own a top line merc, its warming seats comforting him as he spiralled out of the car park and onto the equally quiet streets, following her logical path home.

Her solitary figure reflected in the headlights as he crawled along the street a few off their own, winding his window down as his car drew to walking pace beside her " Connie, look I'm sorry, I want to make it right, why not get in the car, its cold, your tired, I'm tired, a goodnights sleep will help"

"What part of no do you not understand, I want to be on my own," she spat contemptuously, unflinching from her hunched stance, slowing her pace so it was increasingly difficult for Michael to drive.

"Connie please, let me take you home,"

"No Michael, you go home, I want to walk, sod off before I…."

"Before you what Connie, I can tell your hurting, please just get in the car"

No," her pace grew to a standstill, he paused the car momentarily, soon speeding off, turning down the road and disappearing out of sight. With only a ten-minute walk or so to get home Connie tore off up the street, taking an unsafe detour along the roughest part of their neighbour hood, the shops at its entrance gathering up with groups of children, varying in age, gender, namely of the same race, all white. Swiftly passing them by she continued off up the street, unaware of the person following behind her, she couldn't care less, from the shadow increasing behind her she could vaguely make out the build of a man just passed the prime of his life, taking a stroll down the still street, she couldn't blame him, she was there for the very same reason. Escapism, leaving the thought of returning home to a turbulent relationship with a man she was positive no longer loved her, to sit for hours on end, wine in hand, thoughts in motion, inviting it most certainly wasn't. Taking the time to admire the tiny postage stamp gardens so lovingly maintained by people jaded and bored by retirement.

As she meandered down the least suspect side street the presence behind her didn't cease up, had the feeling of loss and distrust not been so strong she was convinced that fear would be overwhelming her, it wasn't. As his footsteps grew louder in her mind she quickened her pace, forcing the heels of her shoes harder into the tough concrete paths. She shouldn't have bothered walking faster, it was only leading for trouble, the man behind her had pulled off, instead another suspicious looking character stood in front of her, bathing in the unnatural orange glow from the lamppost. The shiny appearance of his leather coat concealing what was beneath, his jeans loose enough to perform any act, yet tight enough to conceal their secrets.

Stepping out in front of her his voice spoke in harsh, dim tones "You got a light," simple enough question to answer, yes or no but Connie couldn't help but keep silent, drummed into her by pensive parents the words I stranger danger /I rang out in her mind.

"Sorry I didn't quite hear your response there, what was that?" His gruff voice was too close to hers, his nose sniffing the tendrils of perfume that remained on her neck, his mouth whispering the words into her ear, attempting to be sweet, the dust from his breath unsettling her skin into goose pimples.

"No, I don't smoke, sorry," liar, she was still reeking from the cigarette she'd had before work, however distant its scent may have been. Her lips pursed tightly as his hand encased her arm, grabbing it tightly and dragging her out of the safety of light, pausing by a short cut between two towering flats, its eerie path fading out into darkening abyss.

"Hand over you god dam lighter bitch," his grasp around her arm loosened as he gripped her tiny neck, holding her body close enough for her to feel his heart beating, it was erratic, simultaneous to his behaviour, ferreting around in her coat pockets as she put up little struggle, the other man watching her carefully as her foot stamped in protest at the invasion, her trousers loosening as his hands wandered, encompassing her hips, her screams muffled by the hand holding it closed…

Intrusion

Dirty little slut

Secrets