The days continued much the same; Gordon continued to act just as cold and distant, and she continued to have little idea why. The heartache continued, but the situation didn't worsen, though nor did it improve.

"Last one Lizzie." Jill forced a smile as she handed the receptionist a patient's file.

Lizzie returned her smile, though much brighter and natural than her own, opening her mouth to speak, only to be cut off as the white entrance door swung open, hitting the wall with a bang.

"Someone, help! Please!" An obviously distressed voice called, the occupant moments later came into view, struggling to hold up a man leaning heavily on him. To say he looked a little worse for wear was to put it mildly; he stumbled, swaying constantly, his face a bloodied mess, his torn clothes similarly stained with the deep red liquid.

Jill quickly rounded the reception desk and began a visual examination of the damage as she spoke. "I'm Doctor Weatherill. Can you tell me what happened?"

The only response she received was an unintelligible moan. His arm flailed, catching Jill hard on the chest, sending her tumbling backwards to the floor.

The next few moments passed in a blur for Jill, struggling to get her breath, as people gathered around her and voices passed above her. The first was Lizzie's shout for help. Then Jeff came, speaking to the injured man and his companion, leading them away from Jill. Matron and Lizzie arrived at her side at the same time, both crouching either side of her. Sister Brigid arrived soon after, though only for a moment. "I'll get Doctor Ormerod." She then ran off down the corridor, giving Jill no time to protest.


"Doctor Ormerod!"

Sister Brigid's urgent tones stopped Gordon, his hand on the door to Milner Ward.

"It's Jill," She turned and extended her arm to point down the corridor, allowing Gordon a view of his wife. "She's been hurt."

He was off, pushing past Sister Brigid before she finished her sentence. Matron stepped aside as he reached them, making room for him to crouch beside her. "Jill," He gasped. "Sweetheart, what's happened? Where are you hurt?" He stroked her cheek with one hand, the other brushing through her hair to rest on her shoulder, his actions tender but his shaking belied his desperation for her to be okay.

He watched her anxiously as she raised her tear-filled eyes to meet his, her hand darting up and grabbing his tightly. "I'm fine Gordon, just a little winded." She squeezed his hand tighter whilst her other gripped his shoulder, pulling him closer to her. Relief had filled him as he heard her words, but it soon turned to confusion and again to concern at her actions. The tears shimmering in her eyes soon fell, the drops tracing a path down her cheeks, the stains of mascara contrasting with her pale skin. His moved his hand on her cheek, wiping away the moisture as it fell, but it only served to intensify the flow until she was sobbing openly, griping onto him tighter, hiding her face against his shoulder as his arms encircled her.

Matron was standing within his peripheral vision and Lizzie was still crouched opposite him, her hand which had been placed on Jill's arm for comfort now just frozen there. He glanced up to see her bewildered expression. He had to admit, he felt the same. Rarely did Jill show this level of emotion, and certainly not in the presence of colleagues.

"Jill." He murmured, trying to limit the volume so as few people as possible heard. "Sweetheart, let's get you to your office eh." He waited but received no response, his wife merely continued to sob. All he could do was hold her closer and try and protect her from the prying eyes of the onlookers until she was calm enough to respond to anything he might say to her.