Only a few people were in reception when she arrived, waiting for the start of evening surgery.

Gordon was behind the reception desk, chatting to Lizzie. Jill almost cursed out loud when he saw her and called out to her. She had been hoping to attract no attention and make a quick entrance into her consulting room. She was still shaken up, and to anyone who knew her, it was obvious that she wasn't acting her normal, confident self. Her plan had been to use the twenty minutes before her first patient to get her composure together, so hopefully no one would suspect a thing.

Unfortunately, this wasn't to be. She rounded reception, pasting a smile on her face, hoping it appeared natural enough, and met him as he came out of the enclosed staff-only area.

He gazed at her for a few moments, whilst she fidgeted, forcing her smile to become wider, before he asked if she was okay. She nodded, but could tell he was unconvinced. He led her into his office and closed the door before asking her again. He received the same response, only this time, the nod was more emphatic in a bid to make him believe her. It didn't work but he didn't push the matter.

Instead, he gave her a quick kiss then spoke. "I'd like to change your dressings now. So come on, hop upon the bed and take your blouse off." He grinned and winked at her.

She managed a laugh and did as he requested. She probably would have normally cracked some innuendo laden joke, but she was too distracted by the previous events to think of one.

Gordon began to remove the dressing slowly and carefully, his fingers warm and gentle on her skin, and she was surprised to feel barely any pain. She concentrated on the movements of his fingertips, and started to relax slightly. Although it was part of the medical examination, it was done with care and tenderness, and she needed it after having been treated so roughly and harshly only an hour or so earlier. Not that it made it all better; the memories and the fear couldn't be taken away, and certainly not the threat of more violence, but she did need it.

"I didn't see that yesterday." His puzzled tone broke through her thoughts. His fingers had left the previous day's injury and she looked down to see him running his hand along the other side of her body, up her ribcage, over a large, angry, purple bruise. "How did this happen?"

She stared at his arm, unable to meet his gaze, knowing she was going to lie to him. "It must have been when I fell yesterday." Once again, she could tell he didn't believe her. She felt nauseous both because of the guilt of lying to him, and also because she knew if he continued to be dishonest, he'd stop trusting her and their relationship would end. It hurt to think of it, but it was a reality that was increasing in possibility.

She finally drew he eyes to his face once again. He was gazing in concentration, working his way up her body, presumably checking for more injuries he'd missed. He reached her throat and stopped.

Her heart rate sped up in nervousness. His expression revealed he didn't like what he saw. She just hoped he wouldn't be able to draw a conclusion.

Finally, he looked her in the eye. "What's going on Jill?" His voice was unusually grim, a tone normally reserved for telling a patient bad news. However, there was still the characteristic gentleness in his expression, and a particular softness he reserved just for her.

"I don't know what you're talking about." For the second time that day, she decided to act ignorant. And for the second time, she got the same response.

"Don't treat me like a fool."

This time, it wasn't screamed at her, nor was it said with anger. This time was laced with sadness and hurt. And this hurt her. But she knew she deserved it.

How could she provide an explanation that he'd be satisfied with without revealing the truth? The simple answer was she couldn't. So she did probably the worst thing she could possibly have done. She picked up her blouse and put it on whilst squeezing past Gordon, out of the confined area. Without another word, or glance at him, she opened the door and slipped silently out into the corridor, closing it behind her, effectively shutting the door on the conversation and possibly their relationship.


She rushed into her office and closed the door. Standing in front of the mirror, she could see why Gordon had become suspicious. Round her neck, just above her collar bone was a line of purple- blue bruises surrounded by large red blotches. These were interrupted occasionally by streaks of mud. There was mud on her hands, face and blouse as well. She had pieces of foliage in her hair and stuck to her clothes. Her tights were ridden with ladders, and some larger holes, giving a glimpse of the skin of her legs beneath, sore with scratches and nettle stings. In a word, she looked a state. No wonder a nurse had eyes her warily as she'd made the quick dash between offices across the corridor. That, and the fact that she'd shoulder barged her door, before realising she actually had to use the handle to open it.

With trembling hands, she turned on the faucet of the sink beneath the mirror. The sudden rush of water created some noise in her otherwise quiet room, providing some distraction from the voices playing in her head; the voice of her attacker, and the replaying of her recent conversation with Gordon.

She forced herself to concentrate on washing the dirt from her hands and face, instead of the image of Gordon's hurt, betrayed face. She tried to suppress the all too familiar guilt from welling up in her.

She pulled one end of the ribbon tied around her ponytail, and it slipped out the bow, floating down to settle on her desk. The bobbles were taken off, and her hair was freed, cascading around her shoulders. She ran her fingers through the strands, shaking lose the leaves, before she scooped it up again as neatly as possible. Foundation was next, applied much more liberally than usual to try and mask her red rimmed eyes and bruised throat. Her tights were discarded into the bin and then she was ready. Hopefully no one else would realise anything untoward had happened.

If only it were so easy to get rid of the situation she had found herself so unexpectedly in over the past weeks, both with her tormentors, and with Gordon.