Charlie looked at her. He was weighing up the words within his head, choosing them carefully, knowing that whatever he said, and no matter how he said it, they would never be able to make things better.

"Connie..."

Even saying her name made her body tense. She placed her hands on her hips, her chin tilted up in defiance.

"You really shouldn't be here."

He said gently.

Connie ran her tongue along the inside of her teeth. She knew he was only concerned, what's more she knew that he was probably right, though she wouldn't admit it.

"I'm perfectly capable, Charlie."

She spoke quietly, though her voice was firm, the tell tale sign that this was Mrs Beauchamp he was speaking to, not Connie.

"I'm sorry, but what happened in cubicles just now suggests otherwise. And Rita! She's behaving more like your personal guard dog than our Clinical Nurse Manager."

He clapped his hands to his sides, he had no idea how to get her to understand.

"Nurse Freeman reacted as any woman grabbed unexpectedly by a severely inebriated man would."

She snapped, her words clipped and every one of them had a sharp edge to it.

Charlie sighed. He'd known all along that anything he said wouldn't be listened to. He smiled slightly, he was fond of her despite her starchiness.

"You do make me hold my breath when you do those long sentences."

He allowed himself to smile again, and he lowered himself down onto the sofa and folded one leg over the other. Connie watched him, her expression softening. She felt inexplicably drawn to him, and for a moment she thought of the relationship that she had with Elliot. Charlie could never compare, but he was fast becoming a very good substitute.

"What about the test results? You haven't mentioned them?"

He asked. She hadn't realised he had been waiting for her to tell him. She glanced down to her desk to where the brown envelope lay on her desk, the very corner of it tucked beneath a stack of patient notes. He followed her gaze.

"You haven't opened them?"

He asked, his blue eyes widening. She gave a slight shake of her head. She'd stored it up, the hurt inside of her. She'd trapped it, as though within her was a tower made of fallen stars, invisible to most people, but brightly burning inside of her, only Rita knew it was there. Only Rita knew how cold her grief was. Knowing the results to her tests seemed oddly unimportant. This thing that had happened to them, It was nothing to share. It was nothing to speak about, nothing to feel.

Charlie eased himself back up from the sofa with a groan and held out his hand as he neared her.

Without a word, only a slight hesitation, Connie reached out and slipped the envelope from beneath the folders and handed it to him.

He opened it before she could change her mind. He tore it quickly and pulled out the single sheet of white paper within. Connie looked down at the desk, her fingertips resting against it's surface, just concentrating on the in-out rhythm of breathing.

Charlie scanned the words before him, double checking, triple checking, before he folded it back up with one swift gesture and placed it down on the desk in front of her. She looked up and he gave a brief nod of his head.

"You were lucky."

He said simply.

"Lucky?!"

She almost laughed.

"Sorry...that was an incredibly poor choice of words."

Charlie cringed inwardly, having a conversation with Connie at any time was always fraught with danger, and the very real possibility of making a fool of oneself, but now more than ever he was treading on thin ice.

Connie ignored him. Instead she glanced to the paper before her. NEGATIVE. The words ran in a line, repeating themselves in a list against every item that she had tested herself for. Her eyes lingered on the NEGATIVE next to the pregnancy test. The only one which had caused her to panic briefly every time she had felt the pain twinge within her.

"I'm sorry, Connie."

She felt his hand on her arm as he moved to stand next to her. Behind his words she heard it. He wasn't just sorry for the careless way in which he had spoken to her, he was sorry for everything. He was sorry that it had ever happened in the first place.

She pursed her lips and gave a shake of her head. Through the window opposite her desk she could see Rita, standing on the ward, speaking to someone just out of sight.

Love had ambushed her, it had lain in wait, dormant for months. It was the red thread from Rita's jumper that she found tucked between the sofa cushions when she wasn't there, the peach stone that she had left on a plate in the kitchen, forgetting to put it into the recycling. And the kisses before bedtime. It had crept up on her, and though it remained invisible to everyone else, it was everything to themselves, all at once, it was everything...all consuming.

She watched as Rita smiled to whomever she was talking to, her face stunningly beautiful despite the harsh hospital lighting. She found her chest ached, and she was suddenly jealous of the strangest things – the sunlight through the window that highlighted the different shades of blonde in Rita's hair, the nurses station on which she rested her hand, even her clothing, anything that was close to her she was jealous of, and the realisation of that alone was enough to make a lump form within her throat.

"Are you ok?"

Charlie's voice broke through the silence. She had just been standing there watching Rita through the reinforced mesh window of the office door without a thought to the man standing beside her, waiting for her to speak.

"I used to think there was a plan."

She said vaguely, her eyes still on Rita.

"A rough plan, but a plan nonetheless. Now, I believe there are a thousand plans. Every breath, every decision, influences the plan, expands it, shortens it, twists it all around. It's always changing. Those of us lucky enough to make it through the multitude of possible diseases and accidents get old. We get tired. We close our eyes...but what happens to the ones who don't make it? What happens to the ones who struggle with each and every day because of something which they had no control over?"

She paused, she wished the nightmares were all that kept her awake at night. She couldn't bring herself to tell him that she didn't know any more which disturbed here more, the daytime or her dreams.

She smiled despite herself. She knew she was silly to ask him as though he knew, but in fact he didn't hesitate. He took hold of her hand and placed it over her chest, in the place where he knew her heart to be, and he followed her gaze through the window to where Rita stood, now alone, head bent, the end of a Biro between her teeth as she concentrated on whatever it was that she was reading, completely oblivious to the eyes upon her.

"There."

He said simply.

"You go there."

More later :) Hope everyone's having a jolly Monday. Reviews very welcome as always! xxx