'There's more?' he enquired weakly as finally she tore her eyes from where her gaze was fixed on the cup of coffee in her hands and looked up at him.

'Feel free to leave at any point' she told him dully, her misery so intense that it was almost palpable 'I won't think any less of you'

'I told you, I'm not going to leave' he stated firmly, despite a small part of his mind screaming at him to run for the hills and never return. Once again, he was faced with a woman devastated by one man's sick perversion and lack of self worth and once again, he hadn't the first idea how to deal with any of it. Despite the similarities in the crime that had been perpetrated against them, Connie and Diane couldn't be more different. Connie was as destructive as Diane was sensitive; as strong as Diane was fragile and as bitter towards herself as Diane was towards her attacker. The crimes may have been virtually identical but the effects on the victims were entirely different and he felt as though any small amount of experience he may have gained through trying to support Diane was worthless when dealing with Connie.

'Yet' Connie sighed ominously and his suspicion that this story was going to get worse before it got better, grew. It seemed eminently possible that Connie believed that he would hate her, simply because she believed that she had held the power to stop Diane being attacked – to halt Dominic Fryer before he was able to hurt any more women – but he couldn't shake the fear that there was something else that caused both her own self loathing and her unwavering conviction that once she had finished speaking, he would hate her.

'Go on then' he encouraged gently, sighing as she tensed as he reached out and placed his hand on top of hers. Clearly offloading the massive burden of guilt and bitterness that she carried was not delivering her the catharsis that he had hoped it would.

'After what happened, I went rather off the rails. It was a bit like a late teenage rebellion; I was always drunk, stoned or hungover and my grades took a nosedive. Ironically despite my fear of being thrown off my course for reporting Dominic, I took myself dangerously close to being thrown off for never going to classes or handing in essays. Strangely though, I think I almost wanted to be thrown off; at least then it would have been my doing rather than something inflicted on me for doing what was right and once I was off the course, nothing stood between me and reporting him. In fact, I suspect that the only reason I was asked to defer the year instead of being told to leave and not return was that Dominic panicked and pulled whatever strings to make sure that he still had a hold over me' eventually she paused for breath, snatching her hands from beneath his and cupping them shakily over her face for a moment, attempting to calm herself.

'So you took some drugs and drank a bit when you were at Uni' he shrugged, feeling that dismissing her behaviour as no big deal was probably the best way to deal with her revelations 'We've all done that'

'My drinking and drug taking was hardly in the same league to your liking for a bit of cannabis very occasionally' she paused for a moment, as if debating the merits of continuing 'The difference is, I didn't stop at vodka shots and a joint; that's how it started but after a while my search for an artificial high and something to blot out the memory of what he did drove me to substances much stronger than alcohol and cannabis'

'You mean…?'

'Coke, ecstasy, opiates; you name it, I took it' she exhaled a shaky breath, looking at him as if she was waiting for him to react in some way. He didn't, instead merely gazing back at her, waiting for her to continue with her story.

'What stopped you?' he asked eventually as it became clear that she wasn't going to continue until he reacted, even if it was to stand up, walk out of the door and not return. Clearly she found his silence as unnerving as he found the look of bewilderment on her face.

'I uh…' she froze, taking on the expression of a rabbit in headlights as she tried desperately to find a way to answer his question. Apparently for all that she wanted to, she couldn't find it in her to share with him the last vestiges of her past. Part of him wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, whispering that she didn't have to continue if she didn't want to. That she, like everyone else, was entitled to some secrets, but equally it had taken him so long and so many nights of arguments and tears to get to this point, he was reluctant to stop her now. In the end she took the decision out of his hands, pushing her chair back from the table and standing up, her usual impassive mask returning to her face.

'Connie?' he gazed up at her, bemusement oozing from every pore as she made her way briskly to the sink and poured a large glass of water, sipping it slowly as if trying to calm herself. Despite the fact that outwardly, she appeared as steady as a rock, he knew her well enough to see past the façade and know that inside she was still churning.

'I don't want to discuss that' she stated firmly, placing her glass down beside her and making no move towards him as he stood in bewilderment, wondering what to do next 'I don't want to discuss any of it. Now you know why I'm such a…' for a moment she groped around for a suitable term to describe herself but found none 'Why I'm me' she finished firmly 'you can leave'

'I don't want to leave' he sighed sombrely, reaching out and touching her, watching as she snatched back her hand as if he had somehow burnt her.

'I'd like you to go. I'd like to be alone' her eyes were pleading but he noticed the way her fingernail ran, almost involuntarily over the dressing on her wrist, as if she'd dearly love to prise open her wound once again and he knew that he couldn't leave her. For all the truth that had been aired in the past couple of hours, still she was far too unstable to be left alone and he suspected that taking all potential weapons, from the kitchen knives to the contents of the medicine cupboard with him would only serve to antagonise her further.

'If I stay it doesn't mean that we have to talk' he tried tentatively, feeling his heart sink as her face remained cold and expressionless 'we could get a take away. Hire a film. Do all of the things that we usually do at the weekend'

'Ric, it's Tuesday and I have a shift in eight hours. The only place I'm going is to bed' she stated wearily, looking at him with contempt, as if he was stupid. Suddenly he felt how it was to be Michael Beauchamp, the only other person who he had ever witnessed receiving the look which she now gave him; a look of disappointment and irritation, verging on hatred, mingled with an expression of exhausted affection. It make him feel almost unbearably small and immediately he felt an all too familiar impulse; a desire to seek out the nearest casino, bookmaker or online poker website and blow a months salary. If he left now, it wouldn't only spell disaster for her; there was every chance that he'd waste nine hard months of abstinence and disappoint all of those people who believed that he could beat his own addiction. He couldn't take the risk.

'I have a shift in eight hours' he stated with a false smile spreading across his face; happiness that he did not feel 'We can go in together…'

'You need a new suit' she gestured towards the crumpled shirt and trousers that he had been wearing for well over twelve hours 'you need a shower and you need a shave or people will talk'

'Connie, I really couldn't care less what Donna Jackson thinks…' he began but she silenced him with a single glare of contempt, the kind normally reserved for incompetent nurses and mechanics who fail to fix a piece of machinery and announce after several hours of trying that they need to call someone else in or send the machine away. He wasn't used to receiving it himself – for all that they'd had their differences, she did at least hold some respect for members of the senior surgical staff that was missing from her dealings with lower members of staff.

'Ric, if you don't leave then I will' she stated icily and he felt his heart rate quicken with panic. If she left it would have much the same effect as if he walked out of the door; she would more than likely to something drastic involving her car and a lamppost and he would be straight on her computer, assaulting his credit cards at any number of online casinos and poker sites.

'Connie, my head's pounding and it's late; I really don't feel up to driving halfway across town at this hour, especially when I have to be at work early tomorrow' he tried, a note of pleading in his voice; he knew how she loved to watch a man beg and if that was what it took then he was more than happy to oblige 'I'm asking for a sofa to sleep on, not marriage or sexual favours. After tomorrow if you want me to stay away from you then that's fine but for tonight, please…' he trailed off, both of them knowing that if she turned around in the morning and told him that she never wanted to see him again it would be anything but fine. It would be beyond suicide; more like double murder.

'Fine, sleep on the sofa, be gone by the time I get up in the morning and don't even think about coming upstairs' she stated in clipped tones 'Goodnight'

'Goodnight Connie' he stated wearily, watching as she swept past him and up the stairs, her façade already beginning to crumble as she disappeared from view, her shoulders trembling slightly.

Fatigue was evident in his movements as he moved the collection of cushions that littered the black leather sofa to one end and extracted a thick woollen blanket from the hall cupboard, throwing it over the sofa forming his makeshift bed, before crawling beneath the covers and closing his eyes wearily. Upstairs he could hear her moving and, he was almost certain, crying, but strangely this didn't bother him. As long as she was making a noise above him he didn't feel the need to tiptoe upstairs and check that she was still alive. It was when she fell silent that he began to panic and crept stealthily to the foot of the stairs, beginning his silent ascent before retreating briskly away when he heard her moan in her sleep. Returning to his bed he barely stifled a sigh; it was going to be a long night.