"Hey."
Gordon's voice made her turn and stop, allowing him to catch up. "Hey." She brushed his fingers with hers lightly as he reached her. "Where are you going?"
"Milner Ward."
"Mr Sullivan?" She said softly, concerned for him as he nodded. "I'll walk with you; I'm going there too."
"Mr Heath?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I know Lucy's coming to see him later, but I just want to see if I can do anything, and..."
"And what?"
"And," she sighed. "Apologise."
"Jill." He matched her sigh, taking hold of her arm and pulling them to a stop in the middle of the corridor. "There's no need. It wasn't your fault."
"It wouldn't have happened if I wasn't there though would it, eh?" Her tone was relatively light, but he could tell she was deadly serious; she really did hold herself responsible.
She walked briskly towards the green doors, swinging before them as a nurse entered the ward. He stopped her once again, just before they reached the entrance, his hand slipping from her arm to her hand, holding it briefly, before letting go.
"Will you be okay?"
She nodded, touched by his concerned tone. "Will you?"
He too nodded, leaning in to kiss her cheek briefly before they split off to their respective patients.
Gordon watched Jill make her way over to Alex Heath, before he stepped up to Mr Sullivan's bed. He picked up the clipboard his notes were attached to, and proceeded to read them, aware of Sister Brigid's appearance beside him.
"How is he?" He turned to her once he'd finished.
"He's been awfully restless. Wouldn't settle, very agitated. He's only just dropped off; the grief's made him exhausted I think."
He nodded. "Matron said she'd ask Doctor Klein to see him later."
"I'll keep a close eye on him doctor." She said, gazing sadly at the man who looked so unbelievably peaceful in his sleep given the devastation that had occurred.
"Thank you Sister." He said, his gaze too resting on the man for a moment before he turned from them just in time to see Jill rushing from the ward. Although he couldn't see her face, he knew her well enough to realise when something was wrong. For one thing, she only rushed anywhere when there was an emergency, or when she was upset. At any other time, she would walk at a slower pace, still rapid, but not fast enough to draw attention to herself.
As well as the pace of her departure from the ward, her posture and body language gave her away. She normally walked erect, a posture he regarded as one of the beautiful aspect of her; shoulders back, spine straight, head high, confidence personified. A 'no nonsense' sort of posture, but in no way was it unkind. There was still an relaxed element of it, and accompanied with her melodic, kind voice and expression, it made her approachable, made people want to confide in her. He supposed it was one of the reasons why he was so in love with her.
But as Jill had walked from the ward only seconds previously, her shoulders were turned inwards, her head bowed, her arms crossed in front of her, as a kind of defence, he supposed.
After noting this, he too rushed from the ward, after hurriedly excusing himself from Sister Brigid. He could see her a way in front of him, down the long corridor leading straight into reception. He quickened his pace, closing the distance between them, and all the while ignoring the inquisitive looks from several nurses as first Jill, then himself passed them at speed.
Finally, he caught up with her and reached forward to touch her arm, making her aware of his presence. She spun round, her eyes wide, betraying how much he'd startled her, despite the gentleness of his touch. Her expression quickly relaxed when she saw it was him. This wasn't what captured his attention though; it was the tears brimming in her eyes that startled him. Then he focused more on the intensity of the sadness in her eyes, drawing him towards her. He placed a protective hand on the small of her back and gently led her into the privacy of his office.
He closed the door and turned back, undecided whether he should be the first to speak as he gazed at her.
She was standing by his desk, her back not completely to him, but her face turned away and tilted downwards, her attention seemingly captivated by something on his desk.
"Jill." He murmured questioningly.
She turned to him, her lips twisting into the sort of smile one can only wear when they're trying not to cry. "He blames me." She whispered, though it was difficult to make out the words; her voice quivered in a desperate bid to gain some control over the belying signs of her emotions. Eventually though, the fight appeared too much as the first tears crept over the rims of her eyes, hovering for a moment before making a bid for freedom over the crests of her cheeks.
She lowered her head as more joined them, her hand twisting in front of her, a sign of her jostling emotions.
Without hesitation, he moved forward and drew her into his arms, uttering loving but futile, meaningless murmurs to her as he manoeuvred to sink into one of the hard, plastic, garishly orange visitors chairs, easing her down with him.
He simply held her close as she shifted into a comfortable position, her body fitting perfectly against his, something he never failed to marvel at.
Now wasn't the time for talking; that would come later, when she was calmer. Whatever he said now, she wouldn't take in, and he knew she herself wasn't willing to divulge any more just yet.
So for the moment, he provided the comfort she needed, as she had done for him the previous night.
