When Connie banged the phone down, Ric just stared at her. "What's happened?" He asked, terrified at the answer he might be given. "It seems that Professor Khan has gone missing," Connie told him quietly. "He told Jess that he was going out for a drive, but that was hours ago and she's worried about him. Now, what I suggest you do is to take my car, and go and stay with your daughter, to calm her down if nothing else." "I haven't got a clue as to where he might be," Ric said, sounding thoroughly perplexed. "I have," Connie said firmly. "And if he is where I think he is, this might take a while." "Connie, what aren't you telling me?" Ric demanded, seeing a determination in her face that told him just how serious this situation was. "Whilst I was on the phone, I happened to notice that my bottle of scotch and one of my glasses are missing. Tell me, does Professor Khan ever drink scotch?" "Yes, occasionally. Why, what has that got to do with anything?" "Ric, please, just do as I ask," Connie said to him persuasively, not wanting to put the fear of god in him. "Go and be with your daughter, and I'll see you later." "All right," Ric agreed, seeing that she wasn't going to tell him any more.
When Ric had gone, Connie waited for him to get well away before she left her office, because she didn't want him to see where she would go. Zubin had quite obviously been in here while they were in theatre, and Connie was forced to wonder just how long he had been in his present location. If he weren't where she thought he was, then she would have a severe problem on her hands. There was only one place he could be, and that in itself was going to provide her with a fair amount of work for the next few hours.
Making sure that her cigarettes and lighter were in her jacket pocket, Connie left her office, walked to the lift, and pressed the button for the eighth floor. This was as far as the lift would go, and when she stepped out of it, she continued on up a short flight of stairs that led out onto the extremely windy rooftop of the hospital. Breathing a sigh of relief on seeing him, she stood just for a while, taking in everything about her immediate vicinity. There he was, sitting on the edge of the roof, his feet dangling over the edge, with her bottle of scotch and a glass on the flat roof beside him. Zubin had heard her approach, her heels having given her away. "You come to join me?" He asked, not looking behind him to verify his suspicion. "Well, that is my scotch you're drinking," Connie said reasonably as she moved towards him. "Can I sit down?" She asked. "I'll be lucky to keep my skirt on up here." "Be my guest," Zubin said dryly, his words not remotely slurred. "You stole my hiding place," Connie told him as she sat down on the edge next to him, the bottle of scotch between them. "It was Ric's hiding place before you came here," Zubin informed her as she tried to light a cigarette. "And no doubt that of countless others before him." Seeing that she was struggling to light the cigarette because of the wind, he reached to cup the end of it with his two strong hands. "Disgusting habit," He said as he did this. "Oh," Connie retorted after taking a grateful drag. "And drinking too much of my scotch at the edge of a hundred foot drop is at the height of sensibility, is it." "I don't feel very sensible at the moment," Zubin told her bleakly. "I know," Connie said quietly. "You wouldn't have come up here if you did." "Ric always used to come up here when everything was getting a bit too much," Zubin told her. "So, why did you make it your hiding place?" "It can be, quite seductive up here," Connie said a little hesitantly, not really wanting to share this with him. "I used to feel that just for a while, just for a few minutes, I could escape from a lot of things. Michael, what he was doing to my hospital, and how empty I felt without Ric." Zubin stared at her in surprise. "You didn't think it was all that serious between us, did you," She said with a slight smile. "But it was, it is, and before Christmas when I was here and he was in Ghana, I didn't feel whole. But if I came up here, I could pretend that I was back at his house by the sea, feeling more alive than I think I ever had done before."
"Sitting here," Zubin began slowly, gradually allowing the brakes of his self-restraint to slip further and further away. "I think part of me is wishing that time would just stop, and go back to how things were before he died. Jess was happy, Paris was happy, and so was I. When Jess first told me that he was mine, I couldn't get my head round it. I said I'd support her, financially, because I knew just how Ric would react if he thought I was the father of his grandchild. But Jess didn't want that. I think her words were that she didn't want to be my dirty little secret. It was either all or nothing, and I realised that I just couldn't live with nothing." "You were going through a midlife crisis when it happened, weren't you," Connie put in almost understandingly. "Probably," Zubin admitted gloomily. "And you saw straight through it, didn't you." "I thought you were throwing yourself and your career away on a silly little girl who would all too easily get over it," Connie told him thoughtfully. "But we can all be wrong." "When I first saw Paris, after Jess had him, I didn't care how many arguments or how much bad feeling it had all caused, because he was beautiful. He was mine, my son, and all I wanted was to love and care for both of them." "I know," Connie said quietly, hearing the tears in Zubin's voice as they rose unbidden to her own eyes. Would her child have lived it she'd had even a tenth of the same attitude as him? She couldn't possibly know. "I tried so hard to do what was best for both of them," Zubin said helplessly. "But it still wasn't good enough." "Zubin, you couldn't have prevented him from catching meningitis," Connie tried to persuade him, but knowing that her efforts were pointless. "Don't you think I know that?" Zubin demanded of her. "Don't you think I know that there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop him from dying?" The tears were running freely down his face by this time, and it was all Connie could do to stop herself from joining in. Swiftly shifting the bottle and glass out of her way, she moved closer to Zubin along the edge of the roof and put her arms round him. She held tightly onto him, feeling his arms go around her, as though she was the only thing that was keeping him from taking that final, irreversible jump.
"Now you listen to me," She said with her face close to his. "You have a woman who loves you, and you have a friend who loves you, both of whom do not deserve the further pain that your death would undoubtedly cause. Jess needs you, because this time is just as difficult for her as it is for you, and Ric needs you because he will always need a friend who has the drive and determination to keep him on the straight and narrow." "I thought you'd taken over that particular responsibility," Zubin said with a slight smile. "Ric will always need as many friends as possible to keep him away from the roulette wheel, something I suspect I won't always be able to do." "Jess won't talk to me," He said despairingly. "Probably because she doesn't know what to say," Connie said with far too much authority on the subject of losing a child. "She'll be blaming herself, even though there is no blame to be accorded, and she'll be persistently wondering what she could have done differently, just as you are." "You sound as though you know first hand what you're talking about," Zubin said, wondering at the level of insight he was receiving from her. "Well, perhaps I do," She said noncommittally. "But what's important now is that I get you back to Jess in one piece, because when I spoke to her an hour ago, she was extremely worried about you." "Where's Ric?" Zubin asked, retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket and scrubbing at his face. "I sent him to stay with Jess, because I didn't want him to think you'd come up here," Connie told him succinctly. As they carefully stood up and Connie picked up the bottle and glass, she tucked Zubin's arm through hers to keep him upright. But as they walked down the stairs and back towards the lift, Zubin pulled her to a stop. "Connie, I'm sorry." He looked so pitiful and so ashamed at what he'd almost done, that she couldn't help but to try and assuage his guilt. "Oh, that's all right," She said with half a smile. "Just don't go stealing my favourite scotch on a regular basis, and I'm sure I can turn a blind eye to it this once."