"Jill are you okay?" Gordon asked.

Jill raised her head from his shoulder. "Mmm. I'm just thinking."

"Oh?" When she didn't respond, he pressed. "What about?"

She was silent for a moment, her gaze distant. "About the day I first met you…"

"And how you instantly thought I was the most handsome man you'd ever met, and you fell head over heels in love with me." He injected, squeezing her shoulder.

She drew out of his arms and faced him, one eyebrow raised. "Erm, no. And if you remember, you insulted me by calling me your patient and saying I looked ill!"

He didn't respond, just avoided her eyes as his face became progressively pinker.

"You're cute when you blush." Smiling, she reached over and patted his cheek. She drew her legs up onto his settee and curled up next to him, feeling safe and happy when he wrapped his arms around her tightly. They were silent for a while until she spoke again. "What time is it?"

"Twenty to twelve." She could feel the vibrations run through his body and into hers as he spoke.

Reluctantly, she extracted herself from his arms, immediately feeling the loss of heat. "I'd best be getting back to the hospital… I won't be long."

"You better not be." He said in a mock-threatening tone.

She smiled softly, leant down and kissed him softly. She then exited the house, picking up her bag and coat along the way.

Outside, the moon cast a revealing silver glow over her surroundings.

She walked to her car, tears pricking her eyes as guilt once again filled her, more intense than any other time that day. She'd just told her second lie of the day, and the fact that it was to Gordon made it worse than ever.

The moon looked down on her; the only thing that would see the truth.


Jill drew her car the directly in front of the Italian gardens and climbed out with trepidation, one hand firmly clasping her bag to her chest, and her other hand inside it, clutching the envelope. It was worse than the last time; she had been able to jump out her car and in again, but this time she couldn't, she would have to walk the winding path down into the gardens and back up again. And worse still, there was no lighting there; she would have to rely completely upon the moon, although that would likely be sparse as the canopy of trees would block most of it.

Walking down the slight incline, all she could hear was her heart drumming furiously against her ribcage. She looked around furtively, eyes straining to catch a glimpse of movement; every rustle of the leaves, every patch of moonlight, every distorted shadow made her heart stop, her breathing catch for a second, until they started again, faster than ever.

It seemed an age before she reached the small pond in the centre of the gardens. The normally graceful looking statue seemed somewhat threatening, leaning towards her accusingly.

Hands trembling, she brought the envelope containing one hundred and fifty pounds out of her bag and bent down to lay it on the edge of the pond. Straightening up quickly from her vulnerable position, she scanned the area briefly, edging backwards as she did so, before dashing back the way she came, feet pounding hard as terrified tears burned beneath her eyelids. In the darkness, she was unable to see the path before her, and in one mislaid step, her legs betrayed her. Seemingly in slow motion, she was suspended in midair, until she came crashing to the ground, sliding on impact. Shocked and dazed, it was a few moments before the sharp pain registered. Coming to her senses, she hauled herself up, increasingly fearful, and limped up the path. The tears crept over the rims of her eyes and tracked down her face as her occasional sobs interrupted her rapid, rough breaths.

When she finally made it onto the road, relief coursed through her, making her light headed. She leaped inside her car, never so grateful to be in its safe confines, and drove the short distance into the hospital car park.

She took a moment to slow her breathing and heartbeat, and flicked away her tears with her fingers. A look at her watch told her it was only a few minutes after midnight; she would be there as she said she would to see Mrs Lord, and everyone would be none the wiser.

She climbed out her car, bringing her doctor's bag with her, and hurried up the path, still jittery about being outside. Although night, the hospital was still fairly busy; she passed many nurses going about their jobs as she made her way to Fawcett Ward.

She didn't have a chance to enter the ward, however, when someone touched her arm, and she turned to see Matron looking solemnly up at her. "Doctor Weatherill," she began, "I'm sorry, Mrs Lord passed away."

All Jill could do was stare for a long while before she found her voice. "How?"

"Her heart simply stopped. It seems she just gave up the fight." She sighed suddenly looking weary before the doctor's eyes. "It's so sad; her husband will be devastated, and her baby…" She tailed off.

Jill swallowed hard and inhaled deeply, trying to force away the lump in her throat, and her ever tightening chest. "When?"

"Just a few minutes before you arrived. I was just on my way to phone you or Doctor Goodwin; we need someone to confirm the death." She laid a hand on the doctor's arm. "I'll telephone her husband, ask him to come in."

Jill nodded and ran a heavy hand through her hair. "Look Matron. Could you… I don't think I can…" She tailed off and drew in a shuddering breath.

"Do you want me to tell her husband?"

"Yes please. I'm sorry Matron, I know I should, it's just…" She tailed off again.

Matron squeezed her arm briefly. "It's okay my dear, I do understand. There are times when death just becomes too much. Just because we're in a profession that deals with it, or the prospect of it all the time, it doesn't mean that we're immune to emotions connected with it. All I need you to do is confirm the death, and then you can go home, or back to those friends of yours."

As Matron finished, Jill had to fight to maintain her composure, tears threatening once again. She didn't deserve the woman's kindness.

After she had gone through the procedures, she drove back to Gordon's house on autopilot. Her thoughts were with Mrs Lord. And all the time, in her mind, she was certain it was her fault. If she hadn't had to deliver the envelope, she would have been a few minutes earlier. A few minutes earlier and she would have been alive, she could have saved her. And what made it worse, she'd used Miss Lord as an excuse to Gordon as to why she had to go out at midnight. Slamming her hand hard on the steering wheel, she cursed the writers if her letters, but most of all, she cursed herself.

It was in this state she arrived at Gordon's house. She could see a glow through a crack in the curtains of the living room windows, indicating he was still up. She knocked on the door, and didn't have to wait long before it was opened. One look at his smiling face, and she was unable to stop all the sadness, fear, guilt and anger pouring out. She stepped through the doorway, reached out and clung to him, sobs wracking her body as his arms encased her, holding her securely to him. No questions were asked, he just provided her with the comfort she so desperately needed.

Once her sobs had faded into occasional shudders, he pulled back slightly but kept his arms securely around her. "What's wrong Jill?" His voice was soft and concerned, demanding no response, only one if she was ready.

She unclenched her hands from his shirt and smoothed out the creases she'd made, her eyes focused on the material. She inhaled deeply, trying to cease the hiccups she periodically issued forth. "It's Miss Lord, the patient I went to see. She died." She finally raised her bloodshot eyes to his. She had a husband, Gordon. And a baby!" A whirlwind of emotions building up inside her again, she tore away from Gordon in frustration, paced into his living room and continued to speak. "She was a 24 year old mother, recently married, two loving parents. Now they're left without a daughter, her husband without his wife and a child without its mother! It's not fair Gordon, it's just not fair." She paused, her agitated breaths the only sound in the room. "I couldn't do anything," she continued, her voice softer but harsh all the same. "If I'd have got there a few minutes earlier, if she'd had a different doctor…" She finished on an exhausted breath which her posture reflected.

Gordon silently stepped towards her, took her hand and cupped her cheek, raising her head so she was forced to look at him. "Jill, it wasn't your fault. We can't save everyone, we're not miracle workers."

"But-"

"Jill, you're a brilliant doctor, if you there was any way to save her, you would have done it."

"But-"

"It wasn't your fault." He repeated softly but firmly, the intensity of his sincere expression making her absorb his words, though she didn't altogether believe and accept them. He continued staring at her, his eyes seeming to search her face for something. He finally spoke again. "This isn't just about your patient is it?"

It was a statement more than a question. The accuracy of it startled Jill slightly, that is until she realised that he wanted her to tell him, then she felt slightly panicked, her heart rate increasing. She slipped her eyes away from his and began tugging at the bottom of her blouse nervously.

He waited in silence, and every time she took a fleeting glance up at him, she saw his expression didn't change.

A long moment passed before she came to a decision; she couldn't lie anymore. "You're right Gordon." She said quietly. "It is more than that. I can't tell you though. I really want to, but I just can't. I'm sorry." She held her breath, tensing in anticipation of backlash or a demand to tell him.

None of that happened though. He just uttered a single "Okay."

Though only one word, it told her so much; that he understood, that he wasn't going to push her, that he was and would be there for her whether she was to tell him or not. She looked at him gratefully. "Thank you Gordon."

He smiled and tenderly wiped away the tears that had been coursing down her cheeks. He then led her over to the settee and they both sat down. She settled into his arms and let herself relax. The day had been both emotionally and physically draining. She let her gaze wander aimlessly around the room until it came to rest on the clock, shocked at the time.

"Oh Gordon I'm sorry!" She exclaimed turning to face him.

"What?" He asked, confusion evident in his voice.

"Look at the time." She gestured towards the clock which read five to two. "It's going to be ages before we spend this amount of time together again, and all I've done is cry."

He curved his lips in the smile she found so attractive. "We've still got a few hours left; what do you want to do?"

She raised a hand to her mouth as a yawn escaped her lips. "Sleep." They both laughed gently.

At that moment, for some reason, she thought things were going to be okay. However, this was to be a distant thought the next morning.