Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews for the last chapter! Almost done - I promise to update again soon, and the next chapter will be the last for this particular story. Enjoy x

'We're going to have to get her into theatre. Now'.

'Shit', muttered Michael. His hands were still probing the woman's tumour-ridden abdomen, feeling the distension, trying to work where the bleeding could be coming from. She had been admitted two hours ago, but had deteriorated too fast for them to even think about sending her back up to oncology.

'Blood pressure's dropping'.

'Now, Michael!'

'Okay, okay. Chrissie?'

Chrissie Levy appeared at his side, her nursing scrubs still spattered with the blood that the now-unconscious patient had vomited just fifteen minutes before.

'There's a backlog. Theatre two's free in ten minutes?'

Serena sighed in exasperation, but Michael nodded.

'Right, take it. Can you get her up there please, and prep her as much as you can? Then come back down, I need you here with Sacha. Gemma, you go with her. You can scrub in and observe'.

'Me?'

The young F1 had been treating another patient and was passing the bed when Michael had spoken, her arms full of patient notes.

'You want this F1 prize, or not? Cause is most likely a slow-bleeding tumour. No other F1 is likely to get one of them before the deadline'.

Serena raised her eyebrows at Michael's bluntness, but Gemma's eyes widened.

'Yeah, course'.

'So go catch Chrissie up. Familiarize yourself with the theatre. Ms Campbell and I will be up shortly'.

Gemma hurried off, making a quick detour to drop off the patient folders. Serena watched her go before turning to Michael.

'Are we going or not? Or are you planning on allowing your favourite F1 to operate?'

'She's not my favourite'.

Michael had taken Serena's arm and was guiding her towards his office.

'She's blond, pretty and single as far as I know. What happened to the old Michael Spence?'

'He got caught once too often'.

Michael shut the door to his office and turned to face Serena, his face serious.

'What?'

'Are you going to be okay in theatre?'

Serena bristled. She had no idea why he was asking her that, but it pissed her off.

'Why wouldn't I be?'

'You've been distracted. In a good way, I grant you, but now you look like you've been crying. And you look tired. If you'd rather not do this one, I can ask Sacha to scrub in.'

Serena glared at him.

'I haven't been crying. I'm not tired. I'm perfectly able to concentrate in theatre. Does that answer your question?'

Michael folded his arms and looked at her. Her glare had not put him off.

'What's going on with you and Hanssen?'

'Nothing'.

'Right'. Michael snorted, but Serena just glared at him even more.

'Look, you don't have to tell me. But there's obviously something going on. I won't pretend to understand it, but as long as you're ok. I'm talking as a friend here'.

Serena sighed. She could never be angry with Michael for very long. He was the only who could get away with speaking to her like that – no one else would dare - and besides, he was right.

'We slept together'.

She ignored Michael's expression. It was half grimace, half delighted smile and, she decided, it didn't suit him at all.

'I thought we had agreed it was something more than a one-off. But now I think he's avoiding me and I don't know why. I was just asking him when you paged me'.

'Ouch'.

It was a proper grimace this time.

'Sorry about that'.

Serena brushed off his apology, and held up one finger as she made to leave the office.

'I'm fine to operate. I'm more of a professional than that. And if you breathe one word of this to anyone…..'

She waved the finger threateningly, and Michael nodded, slipping an arm around her and squeezing her shoulders.

'I get it. And you know if you want a drunken shoulder to cry on, we're all heading to Albie's later. Sacha's birthday'.

Serena nodded and gave him a quick smile. She would have to remember to pick up a card later.

'Okay. But for now, can we please get on before the poor patient bleeds to death?'

'Suction'.

Serena squinted into the woman's open abdomen, trying to distinguish stomach and intestines from the myriad of tiny tumours peppering the flesh. The wash and suction that she had just requested hadn't helped. The abdominal cavity and stomach were slowly filling with blood again and she had no idea where it was coming from.

'Christ, this is hopeless. I can't see a thing'.

'You want me to try again?'

Michael had already passed over to Serena once, and she shook her head.

'Not unless your eyesight's improved in the last five minutes'.

'Who else is on call?'

'Ric's already in theatre'.

'Hanssen?'

Serena stiffened slightly. The last thing she wanted to do was to admit defeat and call Hanssen in.

'No. Can I have another wash please, and more suction'.

'You've done that three times already. Her blood pressure's dropping again, Serena, we need to find it'.

'Shit!'

Serena took a deep breath.

'Okay. Shove some packs in there, please, let's at least try and keep on top of this. And someone page Mr Hanssen'.

It didn't take long before she heard the familiar voice behind her.

'Ms Campbell, Mr Spence'.

Serena turned to see Hanssen, dressed in his red scrubs and with a mask already tied firmly around his face.

'What seems to be the problem?'

'There's a slow bleeding tumour in here somewhere, and neither of us can find it'.

Michael reached in and took over from where Serena was changing the packs they had inserted to try and stop the bleeding. Hanssen peered over the table, and grimaced behind his mask.

'Right. Take those packs out, and get ready with the suction and clips, please'.

Serena stood back, watching him work. She had to admit he was a brilliant surgeon. Probably, she thought, a better surgeon than he was a manager. She wondered again what he had been going to say to her, but pushed the questions firmly from her mind. She wouldn't – couldn't - allow that to interfere with her work.

'Got it', Hanssen muttered.

Serena looked around his shoulder, and saw where his clip was pointing. The tear had been on one of the tumours inside the stomach, hidden on the underneath side. No wonder it had been so difficult to spot.

'Are we taking it out or doing a repair job?'

'Repair'.

It was Michael who had spoken, and they both looked at him.

'There's too many interconnected tumours to take out one. We take one, we have to take them all, and the position of some of them means that's impossible. We're not geared up for it now anyway'.

Hanssen nodded and began preparing to stitch the tear, but stopped and looked over to the corner of the theatre.

'Miss Wilde?'

'Yes?'

Gemma jumped as he spoke to her, and Hanssen held out the tiny needle.

'I presume you are here for a reason, and you may as well make yourself useful'.

'You being serious? Do you mean for me to….?'

Gemma looked terrified, and Serena raised her eyebrows at Hanssen. Michael gave his F1 an encouraging smile from behind his mask.

'I am always serious, Miss Wilde, and I always mean exactly what I say'.

Gemma tentatively stepped forward, and took a deep breath as she took the needle from Hanssen's hand. Hanssen stepped back slightly to allow her room to work, standing next to Serena while Michael began supervising the stitching.

'Do you?' Serena asked quietly.

'Do I what?'

'Always mean what you say'.

Hanssen looked sharply at her. For a moment, she thought he was going to tell her that this was not the time, or the place, and he would have been perfectly right to do so. Instead, he nodded.

'Even what you say to me?'

'Especially what I say to you, Ms Campbell'.

She looked over at him, not quite believing what she had heard or really understanding what he meant. He did not look at her as he continued speaking softly.

'And if you had let me finish earlier, you would have realized that I was not going to say that I wasn't sure about you, or about our decision'.

'So what did you mean then?'

She saw Michael looking at them, saw Gemma glancing up in between stitches, and realized that she had raised her voice slightly.

'Did it really mean that little to you?'

Serena had dropped the volume back down to an angry whisper as Michael began talking again, to guide Gemma through finishing up but also to cover their conversation. She was grateful. She knew she already owed him a drink for not insisting they take it outside theatre, but then realized he didn't want to ask them to leave in case something went wrong on the table.

When she looked at Hanssen, his eyes were still firmly fixed on the patient's open abdomen, and she wondered if the conversation was over.

'It meant too much to me, Ms Campbell. That was the problem'.

Before she could react he had moved back to the operating table. He inspected the stitching, and reached his finger in to give the offending tumour a little poke.

'That seems to be holding very well. Blood pressure and oxygen levels are stabilising. That was good work, Miss Wilde. I don't think you require my services here any more, Mr Spence?'

Michael gave him a startled look and, dumbstruck as she was, Serena realized that he had been following their whispered conversation. She closed her eyes briefly, feeling both slightly horrified and slightly hysterical, as Michael shook his head at Hanssen.

'We got it from here. Thanks'.

Hanssen gave a little bow of his head.

'Anytime'.

When she opened her eyes, Hanssen had gone and both Michael and Gemma were staring at her, Michael looking amazed and Gemma confused. Serena caught Michael's eye, and shook her head.

'Not now, Michael'.

'Yes, now. Looks like you two need to talk'.

Serena looked over at the monitors at the top of the table, still feeling shocked.

'No point when he's talking in riddles. Pressure's back up to almost normal. We should be able to close up now'.

'Didn't sound like a riddle to me. In fact, I thought that for Hanssen, he made his feelings remarkably obvious'.

He indicated to one of the scrub nurses that he wanted the tray for closing up, and began prepping the wound while Gemma watched, her eyes flicking between him and Serena. Serena took a deep breath as she realized that, when this operation was over, it would most likely be all around the hospital that she and Hanssen had been talking about personal matters in theatre. Michael would keep quiet, she knew that. Gemma had no clue what was going on. The anesthetist and two scrub nurses, however, were a different matter. She groaned inwardly. Why hadn't she just kept her mouth shut?

Michael paused in what he was doing and looked up, an exasperated look on his face behind the mask.

'What are you still doing here, Serena?'

'What?'

Michael waved his gloved hand towards the swing doors.

'Gemma and I can finish off here. Go catch him up'.

'Michael….'

'Go'.

She didn't need telling again. As she pushed open the doors with her hip, holding her bloody gloved hands out of the way, she heard Gemma's questioning voice.

'What the hell was that all about?'

Michael sounded slightly amused as she heard him sigh.

'Sometimes, with those two, it's best just not to ask. Now. You gonna close up or do I have to do it for you?'