Sahira Shah strolled conscientiously through the hospital, her eyes frantic, and her mind wary. Joseph (who accompanied her) couldn't tear apart the war zone in his head, nor the anger that infiltrated his usually tough senses. Jac was the sole object of his desire, her presence was burned into the back of his mind, and engraved on the outer casing of his heart, and now his love for her was reignited. Quickly, Oliver followed behind the duo, mastering his thoughts with unsuccessful outcomes.

They had nearly reached the third floor when the cries of a baby awoke Sahira into a new sense of relief. Joseph and Miss Shah shared a glance for a second before rushing of to the cause of the noise. Oliver, with delayed reactions, chased after, his brilliant blue eyes shining with determination. It took only seconds.

Throwing open the door, Sahira gasped in reprieve and took the child in her arms with a motherly adoration that only Joseph new of. Slowly, she kissed his forehead, her eyes closed, savouring the warmth as they reunited.

"God, thank you." She whispered, as she felt Indie's breath on her neck. Oliver narrowed his eyes as they focused on a black object besides the baby's pram. Confused, he edged nearer, stopped at the foot of the buggy and picked up the mysterious entity.

A pager.

Jac's pager.

"It's Ms Naylor's." Ollie said, his finger running over the faded name. Sahira frowned.

"What's it doing here?" Oliver shrugged and turned to Joseph who was looking as equally confused. Joe edged nearer, and then stepped back as something crumbled underneath his leather boot; he reached down and it unrolled.

Roof

Pe

Oliver raised an uncertain eyebrow, a feeling of confusion edged into his features at the odd wording. Showing Sahira, Joseph surveyed the faded note for a second, but gained no further insight.

"Pe…?" Oliver wondered out loud.

"It looks half done." Sahira mumbled, bouncing Indie on her hip, his jubilant giggles almost mocking the situation incredibly.

"It's Jac's writing." Joseph said suddenly, thrusting the paper forward and staring at the pager cradled in Oliver's hands.

Jac gulped, her mind racing, her eyes and feet both transfixed, one to the bold safeness of the ground and the other scanning the rushing cars below. Slowly, Pete dragged one foot over the edge, watching Jac, testing her. Jac shook to her very core, and her life began to unravel, the many betrayals, the endless mistakes, a little girl all alone, it began to flash before her eyes. In an instant, she wasn't on the roof anymore, she was at her father's funeral, then to the day her mother left, and then to her care home. Shaking her head almost violently, Jac willed the memories to disappear and for her rational thoughts to return – though it was almost impossible.

"I like it up here." Pete whispered in her ear. "The space, the great open space, and the air, the air that hits you so fast you almost pass out… This is my territory Jacqueline. My destiny."

"I many have seriously overestimated your common sense." Jac retorted casually, her defence mechanism.

"Ha! Look, sweetheart, I may have overestimated your Ice-Queen shield… nothing rattles you does it? I bet you don't even have a heart." Pete replied, testing her patience further.

"Well, whatever you and the majority of my colleagues may think, I do have a heart… I just left it in the freezer. So, if you want to put a dent in this cold, dead thing shrivelled up inside, you would have to get a microscope. " Jac crossed her arms, yanking Pete across, in short-lived triumph - for he had, after seconds, started clapping.

"Oh, well done, Ms Naylor, well done… full marks! I see you still own one vengeful tongue."

"Well, I'll be sure to have it amputated for you…" Pete smiled again disdainfully. He closed his eyes, relishing the blank the blackness provided, though soon his mind was infiltrated by memories. Pete sighed.

"My father died like this. He was so still, so peaceful." He said quietly. Jac smirked.

"Well, he wasn't going be tap dancing was he?"

"No… But we won't either when this is all over."

"We need to get a search party of get security! If I had even contemplated the danger she was in, I could have prevented this! I don't understand why anyone… why she… If anything happens to her I…" Joseph rambled rapidly, the words rolling over his tongue before he could even consider the consequences. The palms of his hands sweated, and he yanked at his collar in discomfort.

"Look Joseph, calm down, we don't know what's happened to Jac yet… this may just be a huge misunderstanding." Sahira suggested rationally, yearning for a simple solution to meet her fears. Oliver nodded in response, hopeful, blue eyes reflecting the ragged form of his colleague.

"And you're going to sit here and do nothing?" Joseph arched his back, his arms perpendicular to his shoulders, his fists repetitively clenching. The thoughts in his head were a blur of motion, clashing at incontrollable speeds, and his emotions battled through the crash in his mind respectively, though the opposing sides did contrast.

"No… Ollie will inform Darwin of our absence… and we will find Jac." Sahira replied softly, after seeing Joseph's eyes bulge and blaze with apprehension.

Jac means a lot to this man. I have only known him for a couple of hours and I can tell that there is history there – just by the tension, the awkwardness and the raw emotions when they are together.

I had thought Jac incapable of love, and, as far as I know, she has yet to prove me wrong. However, I know nothing of Jac; her private life is what it says on the tin… private. Home and work are completely different things to her, and they should never mix. For all I know, she could have a little child running around the place, though I doubt that – from what I can see, she isn't that type of person.

I have always longed to discover why Jac is the way she is, and I still don't know the whole picture. The drama that happened today is still a mystery to me; I can see that there are still things that she is hiding, still things that are locked way – perhaps forever. It makes her feel scared and angry and useless, she bights back when there is no where left to turn, and I feel sorry for her.

And this man, Joseph Byrne, son of the deceased lord, he differs from Jac greatly, although there is a still a strong underlining layer of anger that they both share, that they both endure. He gets panicked easily and from the way he keeps readjusting his cufflinks, I think he suffers from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, though this I need to confirm.

I try not to ask much of Jac's life outside the hospital, and she is still a mystery to me. She can be a real bitch at times, but, as far as I can tell, she has been through a lot and I need to help my colleagues find her.

Jac inhaled, the wing blasted her face like a wave, slowly taking her under; it whistled in her ears, the noise penetrating. Pete had been surveying the scenery around him, taking one final look at the place that he would soon leave. The end of Jac's live nearing, a lone bird song hit her ears, it was filled with sorrowful tune; the robin was unaccompanied. Jac tried to take it all in, the sounds the smells, the feelings inside her, but her mind was blank now… blank with fear.

Sahira, after handing Indie to Oliver, hurried up the stairs, Joseph racing in front of her. His foot began to echo from each step, and Joseph steadfastly looked ahead, willing himself to run faster. Before it was too late.

Pete sighed for the final time, this was it.

Jac's colleagues had reached the 5th floor, the clock was ticking. TICK TOCK. TICK TOCK. It mocked Joseph's ears.

Her captor glanced at Jac and smiled. Finally. He thought.

Joseph exhaled – they had one floor to go.

Pete slowly rose one foot and it hovered over the edge; he waved to the world, still smiling.

Then the door opened.

Joseph barged through, splinters puncturing his skin; Pete reeled back in surprise, and Jac lurched with him. Her persona switched almost instantly, her eyes narrowed and she stared blankly at her saviours. Sahira followed her colleague through and, pushing the hair out of her dark eyes, surveyed the scene around her. Jac's locks was matted and her dignity as broken as her heart that held her many secrets. Joseph clenched his fists and stepped forward suddenly.

"STOP!" He yelled, defensive. Pete smirked, turning to Jac.

"Oh Jackie, you do have some brave colleagues don't you? Weird really…" Sahira edged closer, wary.

"Look Pete, if you calm down, we can help you, sort this out." She said quietly, her tone soft and caring. Pete raised a disgusted eyebrow and spat at her nearing frame.

"Sort what out? There is nothing to sort! God, what do you have to do to get people to understand around here?" He shouted to the world. Sahira nodded carefully and motioned for Joseph to stay put, though his agitated mind urged him to fight in protest.

"Ok, so if you don't want to talk, what do you want?" Pete laughed and he shook his head incredulously.

"To die." Sahira's brow furrowed in perplexity, her mind circling helicopter blades.

"Then why take Jac?" She asked.

"I need someone to replace me, and she is perfect for the job." Pete patted Jac forcefully on the shoulder, and suddenly wrenched her arm upwards. He chuckled darkly as Jac screamed in pain, and, ignoring the threatening looks from Joseph, took another step closer to the edge. Jac gulped, her heart fluttered widely, her insides gummed up with fear. Sahira inhaled, opened her mouth for a calming remark, but, Joseph interrupted, the muscles in his arms twitching with rage.

"I don't understand, perfect for what? I don't know how you can even justify what you are doing…" He spoke hurriedly, barely considering the words that rolled easily across his tongue. Pete licked his lips, and glanced at his wristwatch before speaking again.

"To go to hell, because honestly, she won't go to heaven will she? So, instead of me going to hell, I'm gonna send her instead." He flashed a conceited smile and winked at Joseph. Sahira ignored this gesture with a swift wave of her hand, she took a step forward and her eyes softened as she watched the criminal.

"We have people that can help Pete, all you have to do is to let them – we'll get a team down for you and…" Anger. Such anger crossed his mind. Pete's expression contorted into a massacre of fury, it spread towards his hands and they formed fists.
"NO! I don't want someone looking after me like some kind of animal!"

"Ok, ok… we won't do that then, but we can help you, whatever way you like it." Sahira replied.

"Oh god, you people treat us like children, my foster daughter Jacqueline understands, don't you?" Pete exclaimed, his voice as dry as dust.

Suddenly, a noise erupted into the open space, making the party turn their heads in unison to the source way below them. The hollowly accent flew threw them like a ghost, though its pang of authority came with a welcoming sense of reprieve.

"MR BULK, I SINCERELY ADVISE YOU TO RELEASE MS NAYLOR IMMEDIATELY AND PROCEED TO THE GROUND FLOOR WHERE SECURITY WILL MEET YOU. IF YOU DO NOT AGREE TO THESE TERMS, I'M AFRAID THAT WE WILL HAVE TO INFORM THE POLICE, AND I DO NOT DESIRE TO DO THAT."

Henrik Hanssen held the megaphone up to his lips in hope. Gathered around his tall frame, was a dozen of his colleagues, all worriedly awaiting Jac's fate. Amongst them was Sacha Levy, his breathing hurried and laboured, he found himself unable to speak; the crowd was drawn into an eerie silence. The clock ticked once again. TICK TOCK. TICK TOCK. Henrik brought a slightly shaking hand to his forehead and wiped the sweat from his brow, he closed his eyes, his mind turning to wonder what tomorrow's morning papers would read.

INNOCENT DOCTOR HORRENDOUSLY MURDERED BY DERANGED PATIENT AT SCANDLE HOSPITAL.

Ms Jacqueline Naylor, a prominent surgeon at Holby City General Hospital, was brutally murdered by a mentally unstable patient yesterday at 5:00pm. The patient is believed to be a Mr Peter Arthur Bulk, a multiple offender, and, after the ruthless attack, committed suicide shortly after…

Sahira groaned and bowed her head in despair.

"Henrik..." Pete glanced around and raised an eyebrow mockingly.

"That boss of yours, he speaks his mind doesn't he?" Sahira placed both of her trembling hands onto her face and let the wave of torment wash over her expression.

"Please Pete, for your sake as much as Ms Naylor's." She begged, her hands now held in a tilted prayer. Pete rolled his eyes.

"Fine, all you had to do was to ask nicely." He yanked Jac's tremulous arm towards him and, taking the key from his neck, unlocked the metal prison that his captive had been held in. "There you go. Go on then, run along, join your friends."

Jac stumbled towards her colleagues with what energy she had left; her breathing became less strenuous, though the sudden surge of dread was still encased inside her stomach. Joseph ran forward and she strengthened at his welcoming touch, her heart continuously beating. Sahira exhaled in relief and walked forward too, though she was hesitant. Quickly, Joseph placed his arm around Jac's diminutive waist and nodded a small thanks to Sahira. The anxiety that had infiltrated his senses dispersed, and a small smile escaped his lips.

Then a piercing scream filled the air. It was strident, slashing through the atmosphere at uncontrollable decibels. The trio threw their hands to their ears in a desperate action; Sahira fell to her knees. A loud ear-splitting crack shortly followed. The people below gasped in incredulity at the mangled form at the base of the building. Blood. So much blood. It seeped from the fatal wound on his head. Uncongealed, it oozed onto the pavement, painting the surroundings red. His limp figure was deathly white, his eyes open in a dead trance.

Pete.

He had jumped.

20 minutes later…

"So, do I get a thank you or are you just going to walk away?" Joseph asked casually, smiling. Jac hid behind a rueful smirk, letting the silence surround them as they stood, facing one another. She raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, because that's really gonna work Joe. I thought you would know me better by know." Joseph laughed and placed an uncertain hand on her elbow, inhaling. His eyes echoed a sense of calming serenity, the vast blueness softening as Jac stared back. To Joseph, she looked so beautiful, but the sadness in her expression made him falter – it came with a defeated presence. Hesitant, Jac leaned in, closing her eyes and Joseph responded valiantly. Their lips touched gently, and there was a moment of surprise, before the kiss deepened. She linked her arms around his head, transferring the intensity from her emotion conquered mind to the loving man in front of her. Joseph's hands were on her waist, stroking adoringly her back and sides. There was no one to interrupt them now…

A day later.

Dan Hamilton tweaked his chequered top with precise movements, his cocky exterior never failed to bemuse patients, and this image is what shrouded the underlining fear of his sexuality. His tongue ran over his perfectly straight row of teeth, and he smiled at his fiancé from across the ward. Checking his wristwatch casually, he gathered his notes and walked to Keller desk. Oliver ran over, holding up his hand in greeting. Jac looked up at the united duo, and her gaze quickly fell back to the computer screen.

The metallic bed that held John Bulk creaked under the increase pressure it was handling, and the white pillow under the patient's head made his consciousness melt into oblivion. The hospital was dark and dismal to his eyes, even though the brightness of the walls and equipment. Carelessly, a book John had read an hour before was sprawled across his bed in a disgruntled manner. The beeps of the many machines around him seemed to be mocking - his health was slowly deteriorating. John's mind turned to his parents in quick succession, and he vowed never to see them again, not after what they did to his doctor. Groaning in pain, he clutched at his side and squirmed under the neatly tucked duvet. Stealing a glance at Jac, a short-lived smile spread across his face – she was attractive to say the least, and she had been through too much.

"How's Mr Bulk?" Dan asked, glancing at the television character with interest. Jac raised her eyebrows, a smile threatening to destroy her Ice-Queen shield.

"It sounds like you fancy him Mr Hamilton." She replied, her eyes still staring intently on the surgery list for the week. Dan's eyes widened exceptionally, his guilty conscience rattling his senses.

"No!" He said rapidly. "That is ridiculous…" Dan pulled edgily on his collar, and he purposely avoided looking anywhere near his colleagues. Jac smirked, reading his expression.
"Well, I'm sorry to spoil your wedding plans, but I think it's illegal... Oh, and I reckon he's taken by Velma Dinkley over there." Jac aimed a slender finger at Sacha, who, at that very moment, was modelling a black pair of glasses that belonged to the nearest patient. Dan willed himself to regain some confidence, and that the emotions battling in his mind would end.

"On the contrary, Ms Naylor, I think he fancies you." Jac rolled her eyes, frowning.

"Ergh." She muttered, and looked up. In that moment, her eyes met Johns and he twisted away in discomfort. Dan laughed.

"Don't be such a cynic." He said, barely keeping the whine out of his voice. Jac cocked her head for a swift moment, her mouth contorted into a disgusted grimace.

"Yeah, what the world needs right now is love, sweet love… Spare me. What Mr Bulk needs right now is a new kidney." She replied. Dan raised an eyebrow, perplexed.

"You don't have a romantic bone in your body do you?" He asked in disbelief.

"You should know, you're the bone monkey's boss." Oliver turned angrily towards Jac, flashes of rage agitating his eyes. He raised his hand in a clenched fist, and gritted his teeth.

"Because I switched mentors doesn't mean that you can shout useless abuse at Mr Hamilton from the rooftops." Jac looked down at her notes, suppressing a smirk.

"My My, have you finally made yourself a full set of vertebrae Dr Valentine? Or did you have Mr Hamilton to help?" Dan opened his mouth to protest, do no avail, as Oliver swiftly cut him of, his fury sparring with his rational sense.

"Bitch." Ollie said, this time, unlike countless over attempts, to his ex mentor's face. Dan stood in-between them as a physical barrier and he quickly held up his hands in warning.

"Whoa guys, calm down you don't want to break something do you?" Dan exclaimed, glancing at the pair. Jac tilted her head, her eyebrows raised, her hands poised out flat. "Yes, like you can't fix it bob the builder." She said sarcastically.

"Yes he can!" Luc Hemingway said. He snatched some disregarded notes from the desk, and adjusted his tie with a swift movement of his other hand. His colleagues glared, aggravated by his care-free attitude. Luc glance up. "I'm sorry, wrong time?"

Silence.

"I thought it was quoting hour… evidently I was wrong… which isn't good as I was going to move onto James Bond next…" Jac placed her hands on her hips and smiled cheerlessly. Luc tapped his notes. "Oh, please continue…" He sat, resting, onto the desk, crossed his arms, and waited expectantly, apparently satisfied with the mood.

"No, I don't think that's a good idea…" Dan replied, motioning for Ollie to follow him. Jac scowled at their retreating forms, now in half-shadow, before turning back to the screen.

"What?" She barked. Luc suppressed a smile.

"I wasn't actually aware that my mouth had moved…" He stalked away and, recoiling at the lift, disappeared behind the nearest door.

3 hours later…

The sombre crowd stood in silence, eyes swollen with saturated grief - ghosts of their previous selves. Softly, the music rose above to the heavens, purifying even the darkest of souls. The weather was dismal; a tongue of lightning licked between the clouds, bullets of rain rinsed the black sea below. Tombstones lined the austere ground, their stone memorials lasting far longer then the life buried beneath.

The rosewood coffin encased a young corpse that lay in satin finery, her lacquered hair and waxen lips a poor mimicry of life. She had been identified by her colleagues, and a formal investigation had pursued. Now, her limp hand rested neatly on the flat of her stomach, her once life filled eyes closed, her body ice.

Jac's shoulders slumped under the weight of Death's hand. The wind battled her fiery hair furiously, and it no longer rested blissfully on her shoulders, it danced around her face; she made no attempt to bat it away. The emotions racing through her mind conquered all, the guilt, the shame. Although her face stayed impassive, inside differed greatly. Her body was as stiff as the porcelain statues on each side of the casket, though this didn't bother her, in fact, she welcomed it.

Joseph was standing next to her, his blue, deep eyes, like disrupted oceans, never leaving Jac's face. The gloves he wore on his hands transferred some warmth to his numb fingers, and his black coat hugged the shivering body underneath. Slowly, he lifted his arm around Jac's shoulders; she looked up at him, her head tilted slightly in an unspoken question.

The service was unforgettable, a mixture of tears and laughter from colleagues as they shared memories. Chantelle was effected most of all, her cries silenced the group for a couple of minutes at a time, before the awkward chatter began again.

After a while, Jac shrugged Joseph of, and departed from the crowd. Throwing a stone by the grave, she whispered a final goodbye and walked away. Her figure grew darker in the coming night as her coat billowed around her ankles, and Joseph just stood there, his feet transfixed to the ground.

Jac closed her eyes, drowning in the vast sea of emotions; she waited for the cloudiness to return, wondering what the next day would bring.