They stood staring at one another in the bright winter sunlight that dazed on the quiet London suburb. Beside them were respective suitcases, in their arms nothing but the yearning to be together. Ric smiled as Connie walked the two short paces to allow their feet to barely graze together. "I'll miss you," she smiled, lifting herself onto tiptoes so as to hug him. Ric caught her and used his strength to keep her upright for what only felt like a second, they knew this departure was going to be sweet goodbye, they knew that Connie had to go and settle things up with Michael and try to move on without Ric's support since he too had issues to sort out; back in Holby.
"You know that my door is always open in Holby, anytime of the day or night," he replied, gently brushing his lips on hers, it wasn't anything passionate or overwhelming, just a simple kiss that would tide them over till the next time.
"I know, I know but I owe Michael some time, if only to build up my loathing for him," Connie smiled, rubbing his arms affectionately.
"Yes, I understand, just don't leave it too long before getting in contact please, otherwise I definitely will worry, you understand," Ric sighed, shrugging his coat further up his folded arm.
"Of course, and the same goes for you, I don't want any news of you doing anything stupid or tormenting anyone, Zubin included,"
"But," Ric trailed off as she placed a finger to his lips, it reminded him of their antics the previous night, the many nights they'd spent in Nice, living in each other's pocket was blissfully perfect for a while but they both knew the separation would ultimately do them the world of good. As she gathered her belongs together Ric inwardly groaned at having to leave her, listening for the sharp footfall of her heels clicking on the uneven pavement, the way her backside moved in unison, her back perfectly positioned, another reminder of her dancing as a child. It wasn't until she was about to reach the corner and disappear from his sight that she turned around, smiling and winking at him. He smiled in return, waiting for any trace of her to go before making his own way up the opposite end of the street. It reminded him somewhat of the feeling he'd experienced as a boy, leaving friends after a long school trip, having got to know them so well, their routines merging with his. He missed her.
Connie stepped over the threshold of her somewhat alien home moments later, stuffing her coat, bag and keys on the side table in the hall, leaving the suitcase derelict in her wake. As she leant on the mule post to take her shoes off she heard footsteps coming from the kitchen, changing in register as they crossed from slate to carpet. "Welcome home sweetheart," Michael smiled as she moved over to him, lethargically letting her hands run over his back as he placed his head gently on her head, drinking in the familiar smell of her hair; the heady mix of her perfume.
They remained silent as he prepared her a strong coffee, the sunlight still dancing through the skylight of the kitchen; it crossed her path as she watched him work from the comfort of the sofa. She knew he would end up treating her like a princess for all of about a day, it worked the same way every time she came home, be it from a rift in the bedroom department, a personal secretary or her own inability to talk about issues affecting her. He would make her tea, they'd talk, go for a walk or pig out in front of a soppy movie, go upstairs make an odd reverently passionate love, sleep and wake up the next day, sinking immediately into the same old routine that caused the problems in the first place.
"How are you then?" he smiled, placing the cup of coffee in front of her before plonking himself down on the arm chair across from her, his feet rising up onto the low table, tapping to the soft music filling the background.
"Fine thank you," Connie replied politely, sinking her gaze into the hot tan liquid swirling before her. Placing the mug back to the table she brought her legs underneath her, sitting the mug back on her knee, balancing it gently as she engrossed herself in the music.
"I missed you," Michael told her eventually, flicking his wayward hair out of the way, bringing his gaze on to her eyes he could she the momentary glint and smile playing on her face, followed by the subtle blush. "Where did you go? What happened?" he continued, wanting to find out where he'd gone wrong this time, with each flit of her emotions he was left wondering what he'd done, what he'd said. In most cases it was obvious, the latest blonde to cross his dick or the latest idea to send her to boiling point, something he'd admit to few turned him on immensely.
"It was the anniversary of Will's death," she sighed, lifting the mug to her lips, savouring the taste before carrying on, "Ric was there, at the cemetery, visiting his grandson," she paused, releasing the information nugget by nugget so he would fully understand what was going on, without having to ask her to repeat herself. "We went back to his flat and talked for a while, he'd been so confused by my actions at Christmas, I couldn't explain it myself," She shot him a wary glance as he screwed his face up at the idea of someone else having his wife as only he should, "nothing happened there Michael so don't beat yourself up about it," she tutted, shifting her position on the sofa before going on, it was the first time she felt guilty about her trip to Nice, the fist time she'd felt anything other than pleasure from being with Ric. "I decided the two of us could do with a bit of cheering up somewhere away from all our troubles,"
"Where did you go?" Michael cut in, eager to find out where exactly his wife had been dallying.
"Nice, I took use of that boat your mother gave us for our wedding, we've never made nearly enough good use of it," she smirked, savouring the photograph she'd encrypted on her mind, of her and Ric both sunbathing naked on the deck of the luxury yacht, of the massage oil he'd packed coming into good use, of the way she'd relaxed with the gentle sway of the boat removing any trace of stress from her body.
"You do look rather too brown for having spent a few weeks in the depths of England," Michael mused, placing the empty mug to the table, leaving his hands free to support his head, it had been somewhat surprising to him that he'd been unable to sleep as well as normal since Connie had left, whether it had been waking up an empty bed or wondering where the hell she'd taken herself to he wasn't sure.
"I'll take that as a compliment shall I," Connie smiled, bowing her eyes as his nodding head paid her another compliment, "anyway you know the rest, when we got back I got your call and well, Ric insisted on sticking around to support me," her voice was unequivocal as he nodded again, not even he could deny that an extra helping hand was wrong.
"Well you're home now which is what matters," he smiled, carefully watching her as she sat clearly thinking as her eyes darted all round the room, making her way to meaningful statement that would impress on him for a lifetime.
"I must owe you an apology though, I should of let you know what was happening,"
"There was no need, Connie I understand, you've been going through hell these past months," he cajoled, giving her the trusted wink to let her know that everything would be fine.
"It doesn't mean I've got the God given right to treat you like s h I t though. Please understand that you've been a priceless tower of support," she trailed off, getting up off the sofa, she wasn't quite sure as to why she suddenly felt attracted to Michael, why she felt the need to apologise for getting over the rape and why she had to show her love for him, but she did, she was about to make a decision that would alter her approach to life.
Michael stood up in the same heartbeat, letting her fall into his arms, this time much more enthusiastically, her arms encasing him in a reassuringly tight squeeze, making him fizzle up with a warmth long since gone as her fire of life had extinguished itself, soaked by the shower of disgust all those month ago, taking another beating the day before, yet she seemed to be coping with it all. She finished the hug with a kiss, pressing her lips into his, twisting them into a contort of love.
As they moved back from one another he took her hand, twirling her round like a dainty ballerina, reacquainting his eyes to her body, "do you fancy something to eat?" he asked as she came to a standstill, leaning her back on the breakfast bar.
"Why not?" she smiled, walking over to the fridge to consult what he'd actually managed to buy in. Amazed she lifted the small mound of steak and various vegetables onto the work surface, removing the griddle pan from the rack and setting it to heat on the stove. Michael moved round to join her, lifting the chopping board and setting to work, carefully watching her move mischievously around the kitchen, reminding him of when they were newly wed, childishly making food for one another on the rare occasion they'd been off together, the precursor to love making he hoped. As she forcefully flung the meat on the pan he watched her tap it down, fiddling with the tongs in a manner he could only describe as a turn on, the way she flicked her hair out of her eyes with a coy smile, glint of the eye and gentle side step to distance herself from him.
It didn't take long for the shards of meat to grace the plate, sidelined by a pile of lightly steamed vegetables. Both proud of their creation they lifted the plate to the table, sitting across from one another. As he started into his food Michael watched her lift her sleeves out of the way, revealing a crepe bandage covering a fair proportion of her forearm, he gazed at it for a while, and unsure of how she'd managed to come by it. " When did that happen?" he asked before rinsing his mouth with a generous sip of red wine.
"Oh it's nothing, don't worry about it," Connie fumbled, removing the arm from his gaze, hoping to see the back of the issue. Wrong.
"Connie you must remember how you did it," he persisted, watching as the fullness of happiness drained from her eyes, cutting her down to a lost nothingness.
"I did it on holiday, out on the rocks, y'know what it's like," She lied, having never been very good at it she paused while Michael lifted her arm onto the table, surveying the bandage with his thumb, letting his finger run the length of it before saying anything.
"Connie, you and I both know that's not the truth, please I can handle anything," he told her, yearning over the half hour of pleasure they'd wallowed in.
"It just sort of, well, it happened when I got back, when I heard about y'know," Connie trailed off as an overwhelming guilt crossed her eyes. Michael had been left to deal with the pieces after they'd lost their daughter, her face bore the same expression: loss.
"Oh Connie, why didn't you say anything sooner," Michael whispered, dropping blobs of worry and care into ever word he uttered.
"Because it shows a weakness, Michael, it's my way of coping, just leave it ok," as soon as she finished Connie rose from the table striding out of the room and up the stairs, slamming the guest room door closed behind her, she knew the box they'd savoured from Georgia was there; the box that contained enough memories to drown her into a heady night's sleep.