And I was expecting hate mail. So glad you're enjoying the angst. Thank you all.

"Show me," she repeated.

"What, why? I'm not sure you'll likely to need to repeat the procedure anytime soon. Nikki what's this about, what is wrong?"

"Show me please," she begged.

"Do I really need you to scrutinize my DIY surgery? Nikki what are you trying to achieve?" he asked.

"There's something," she stated simply. "Something you're not telling me."

"There's not Nikki, there's really not. I haven't told you anything much, because there is nothing much to tell. Nikki we're both too tired for this, what's this actually about?"

"Please," she whispered, tears hovering in her eyes.

Harry walked towards her, and knelt on the floor by her feet.

"Do you want to act the part, or are you just here as a scientific observer?" he asked sourly. He might have tacitly agreed to play along with this game of hers, but there was no way he was going to let her think he was doing it willingly.

She remained standing, so he acted out his phone call, the writing of notes on his gloved hand, the position of the police officer, the pocket knife and plastic forceps procedure. He sat back on his heels when he finished.

"Satisfied?" he asked and turned to look up at her. He was startled by her savage expression.

"You could have compromised your gloves."

"What?"

Pause

"You did it, just like that, just like you showed me then?"

"Yes!"

"Exactly like that."

"Yes, exactly like that. Nikki what is it? You're making my head hurt."

"Do you get a lot of headaches?"

"You did know!" she pronounced.

"Know what?"

"You're a liar," she spat, stumbling backwards away from him.

"Nikki? What the hell is the matter with you? How dare you?"

"You perform brain surgery, on the floor of a toilet, with a dirty pocket knife and you do it all right handed! You would have been happy to let him die!" she declared.

Harry rocked back away from her. He couldn't even formulate a reply. He had to get away. They were no good together. Not like this. Not today. Nowhere to hide. He had nowhere to hide from her and her insights. He was sick, sick to death of fear and prejudice and assumptions. He was a scientist, he was a doctor, he did his job. He didn't need one of Nikki's dramatic monologues on the state of the nation's youth, or on God's allowance of suffering in the world, or whatever argument she was spoiling for. Not when she'd just called him a liar to his face and criticized his actions and the methods that had saved that kid's life.

"Nikki," he chided his voice stern. "It was an emergency, I acted. I did what I did. He would have been dead. What's the matter? Why is this so important? Why does it matter? You're safe, I'm safe; we can't change anything that has happened. You need to let this go." He was standing now, backing across the room.

"Don't tell me what I can or can't do!" she screeched. "All day, all bloody day, I've had men telling me what I can or can't do: making decisions for me, ordering me about, threatening me, putting me in danger."

"You're forgetting I'm still the one in control here."

Harry looked up with what he hoped was an apologetic look.

"Don't" she cried. "It was you that got me into all this in the first place."

Harry stopped. Was she blaming him for the atrocities of the day? Or was he just the closest living candidate to receive the outburst of fury that was lying just below the surface of their conversation.

"You didn't have to stay," Harry said honestly, surprised by his lack of anger.

"I'm not a coward!" Nikki insisted.

"I never said you were. Nikki, what went on today, there are no training manuals, no dry runs. We did what we did and most of it on instinct; we helped those we could…"

"And who did I help?" she screamed interrupting him. "By staying in there, who exactly did I help? I prolonged the agonising death of Matthew Frisk just enough for him to die alone outside in an ambulance. Is that creditable? Is that worthwhile? Is that helping? I was then in the wrong place at the wrong time to spend an hour in the presence of Neil Corrigan, long enough to convince him to give himself up only to see him shot dead in front of my face as he surrendered his gun to me. It's hardly a great success rate and you, YOU! You save the life of the psychopath that started it all, and it's so easy for you, you can even manage it right handed!" Exhausted by her speech, she sat down hard on the sofa behind her.

"Get off your arse and find me something to eat!"

Harry slowly digested all that she had to say.

"It wasn't easy," he whispered but there was something, even after the day they had had, there was something else that had upset her. Maybe it was just the booze having an effect but he was sure something had happened that she hadn't told him about yet.

"Is that it?"

"You think that isn't enough?" she scoffed. "At least ten dead, and many more traumatised."

"No, there's more," he insisted. Why he felt the need to stay for the encore was beyond him? But he was suddenly overcome by a weariness that rooted him to the spot.

"What is it?"

There was a long pause.

"Come on Nikki, you can tell me."

"Promise me it'll be you that cuts me open Dr Alexander."

"I liked him," she confessed.