AN: I am sorry I took forever to update. I've been very very busy and still am with exams and what not. I hope anyone who's reading enjoys this and once again, I'm always open to feedback x

The warm rays of the sun leave an orange glow over the lone figure on the rooftop. She stands there basking in the rays as she tries to make sense of the last few months, using her break for the first time in a century to try and tame her thoughts. It was funny really. How one revelation could destroy everything she'd built up to protect herself, to keep herself safe.

The past shouldn't hurt her, yet it did. The more she thought about it and the more questions her daughter asked, the further she felt herself sinking into that pit of despair she'd fought so hard to escape. It had started with watching Artemis cry, convinced she was a mistake and apologetic for her own existence. She didn't know how to convince her teenage daughter that she really did love her despite the circumstances of her conception. Make her believe and understand that her mother had long since come to terms with her paternity, that she only saw her child whom she loved when she looked in her eyes.

Then the night terrors came. At first she would cry in her sleep, which was disturbing enough for AJ, who'd attempted to surprise her with breakfast one morning, but soon it escalated to screaming fits, which would jolt her daughter awake and send her running down the corridor. Ever since that conversation, she'd slowly begun to realise that the PTSD diagnosis she'd received when she was fifteen might actually have some weight.

Now she stood on the rooftop, trying to clear her head, and desperately hoping that she could bury memories once again, even if she knew deep down they never truly left her. Even in better times, she had flashbacks, moments where she swore she could feel his hands on her skin.

It was every time a man touched her when she'd rebuffed their advances. It was being groped on the tube, just trying to get into uni. It was the way the orthopaedic registrar had stood so close to her, the way he was so brazen about it, wandering hands excused by assisting her in surgery. It was how it had led to her ruling out Orthopaedics in final year.

It was how it only stopped after a patient complained to a consultant, stating that Mr. Smith was clearly making her uncomfortable. It was how that the response was, "Obviously, his behavior was out of line, but a girl as pretty as her, can you blame him?" It was how AJ's existence was used as proof that she didn't mind male attention if she was popping out a baby at fourteen. If only they knew how far they were from the truth.

The worst thing was it wasn't just moments where she'd met men like Adam. There were days when she'd be filled with dread for no reason. Anxious, though she'd never show it, and so afraid that something she could never quite put her finger on would happen.

It was how she just couldn't get close to anyone. She was terrified of intimacy and pushed everyone away, but she was lonely and wished she had someone who understood how it felt. The feeling of loneliness in rooms full of people. The missing memories lost in the haze of her childhood. Her thirteenth birthday was a lost relic she couldn't recall. Her twelfth birthday was all the same. Her fourteenth birthday was only associated with the exhaustion of her third trimester and the fear of bringing a human into the world. Her fifteenth birthday was forgotten except for the polaroid of her baby in her arms, asleep on her chest, a happy birthday rosette clutched in her chubby fist.

She might have had a picnic with Kitty and a few friends who have long been lost to prison, drugs, and the vices of life. She's not sure. Kitty says she did. She tells her that AJ napped in her arms half the time and attempted to crawl away the rest of it. Apparently, Jac ended up relegating her to the baby carrier and fed her cut-up strawberries to keep her at peace. Mundane as the whole story is, she wishes she could be sure. Did Kitty really plan a whole picnic for her, just because she was cooped up inside with a baby? Maybe she did, she can't recall.

"I knew you'd be up here. It always was your thing, watching the sunrise."

The sound of his voice startles her, making her jump slightly. "Why are you here, Joseph? Aren't you supposed to be treating a patient?"

"Finished up early. Thought you might want a coffee. Sunrise in twenty minutes." He stops his stride short of her, knowing that she'd like some space, though his presence in her sanctuary is already starting to irk her.

"I'm not going to tell her we kissed. That's why you're here. It's about that, isn't it?" She assumes, sipping her latte.

"Actually, no. I wanted to check in on you. You seem upset."

"I'm not. Seriously. Just thinking about AJ."

"Why? Is everything okay at home?"

"She's fine. We're fine. Is it a crime to think about my daughter? Shock horror, I might even miss her when I haven't seen her all day."

"She's not fine if you're this worried about her. Could it be the accident? Is she shaken up about that?"

"No. It's nothing to do with that or you for that matter. Why do you even care? You're not her father." She asks, confused by his sudden concern for her well-being. She'd been back a week and all they had done was bicker in the theater and avoid each other.

It wasn't as if she was trying to annoy him, but Joseph was taking out his guilt on her. She was never one to back away from a fight, so it had been argument after argument. She was leading the operation when he had more experience, he was undermining her decisions, she was somehow the architect of his misfortunes.

The past week had her reckoning that she preferred when he outright hated her and they'd gotten on so terribly, that the rota coordinator avoided putting them together. Now that they were semi-civil it was messing with her head. He was so hot and cold, kissing her one day, spending the next berating her and listing out all her faults. She was always one step ahead, never getting played by anyone, and yet it seemed Joseph was wising to her tactics. Perhaps, he was giving her a taste of her own medicine, a lesson out of Jac Naylor's playbook of indecision.

"Sit. You're exhausted."

Joseph watches her sway, her left leg beginning to buckle even with the aid of her stick. He places an arm around her waist and guides her to a pair of abandoned chairs, ditched on the roof in favour of ergonomic chairs for the hospital board.

"I'm fine." She insists, rolling her eyes in disbelief. Once again he was outdoing her in her own art, so much for her being the contrary one.

"So what's going on with you? Don't tell me it's nothing, it's not." He asks, turning to face her once again and studying the expression on her face. She looks drained, her face has its signature blank expression, but he can see that almost imperceptible change.

The one that made him think of her in the middle of his paperwork. The one that led him to buy her a latte and seek her where he knew she'd be. Where they used to disappear to on slow days. He never used to watch the sunrise before he fell for her. Of course, he'd seen it and if he was up early enough he'd bask in the rays, but it was being with her that made it a habit. A ritual almost.

He missed her. Sometimes he missed them, but now was not the time. Everything was too raw, too real.

"I'll be fine, Joseph. I always am." She replies, her voice solemn and somber. He sighs, knowing that he'd never get anything out of her. She was always too closed off. Untrusting. Artemis says it's her way of keeping herself safe, and he can't help but wonder what goes on in her head.

"I won't pry, but if you need a sounding board I'm here for you, colleague to colleague."

Jac turns to him, letting out a heavy sigh and resting her head on his shoulder. "Thanks, that's great and all, but could you shut up and let me watch the sunrise in peace."

Ever since he kissed her, their dynamic had been perplexing. They couldn't go back to outright hating each other, yet neither party was willing to build bridges. Instead, they remained in limbo, skirting around the elephant in the room. Sharing moments like this, cuddled up on the rooftop, his arm around her waist, they pretended the past didn't exist and the future wasn't filled with consequences.

When she finds herself in bed with him just three weeks later, lying in the dark as he tells her she should be kinder to herself, she isn't surprised at all. It seems like a natural progression to the tension building between them. The stolen glances between them saying all the things she can't find the words to say.

"God, you're so beautiful." He whispered, looking down at her as she rested her head on his chest, pretending to herself that she hadn't thrown it all away.

She tells herself that she's not having an affair with her ex-boyfriend and that he is really hers. He is hers and she won't have to hold onto this moment later, that he won't be gone when the weekend is over.

He tells himself that if he doesn't get too attached, then they can keep their secret meetings. Their early morning meetings on the rooftop, where they'd watch the sunrise and skirt around the elephant in the room, have blossomed into illicit liaisons. The stakes are getting higher, and he knows he's wrong for this. He should just end things with her, but he can never find the words or the courage.

If she never knows, he can have it all. Have the safe solace of a woman he thinks will never hurt him, and the dizzying rush he gets whenever he's around her, the woman he wants but is too afraid to pursue. It's not all bad; they've agreed not to do this again. That it was wrong, but they were intoxicated and got a little close. He's lonely and she's hurting. He can see it in her eyes when he kisses her, even if she denies it every time.

Somethings in her mind, chasing her until it can beat her down, and she's fighting, but she's getting tired. So tired. It's how they ended up here.

She feels the tears well in her eyes as he asks her if she's okay. When she looks back, she'll wonder why it was then that made her crack. He'd asked her that question over and over, but it was that moment there that knocked her walls down.

And she just can't stop crying. She has rivers of tears in her eyes and she can feel her heart pounding in her chest. She rips herself from his embrace, and staggers out of her room to the balcony, hoping the cold air will snap her out of this hell. When it doesn't work, she finds herself sitting with her back to the glass, the light drizzle autumn's shy welcome to her.

Her arms are wrapped protectively around her body, and she's rocking back and forth as she cries. Her body trembles with each sob, her mind a war zone. Each memory of that man rushes in like bullets piercing through her skin. For so long, she had walked around with a facade of indifference as her bulletproof vest, her refusal to acknowledge the past making her feel almost invulnerable.

"Jac, breathe. Hey, look at me. Look at me Jac."

Joseph's voice catches her off guard, and she jumps, a look in her eyes resembling a deer caught in headlights. He's never seen her like this; her night terrors had only shown him their ugly face once, and that night had been pushed to the back of his mind until now.

As he whispers words of comfort, kneeling in front of her with his hands out where she can see them, the gears start to whir in his mind. Her body language is so reminiscent of a day he spotted her sitting in the staff room staring into the distance, hands shaking. It hadn't been that long since Alan Clooney assaulted her and she was in a particularly foul mood. He'd made the mistake of tapping her shoulder, and she'd freaked out, lashing out at him and knocking over her coffee. She's less angry this time, more broken and worn out than anything, but the pain in her eyes is all still the same.

"That's it. Just breathe, in and out. Okay, focus on your breathing," he says reassuringly, thinking of all the grounding techniques he'd learnt in therapy himself.

She stands up abruptly, catching him off guard. She rushes to the sink, splashing cold water on her face. This was a bad idea. Letting him in, drinking with him, sleeping with him. She should have never kissed him in the first place. This is where it started.

"You shouldn't have come here. This is wrong. I shouldn't have slept with you."

"That's not important right now. What's going on with you? I'm worried." Joseph argues, following her into her bedroom, his mind flickering back to the scars on her thighs. He'd decided not to pry years ago when he saw the flicker of shame in her eyes, their first night together in the on-call room. The shift in his view of her when he saw them realising that even she had her moments where she cracked.

"Like you care! No one does. You have no idea what any of this is like!"

"Any of what? Jac, tell me, tell me what's wrong? Please, I just want to help you."

"I can't." She says quietly, shaking her head.

"Why? I won't judge you. I'm serious. I'm here to - shut up! Just shut up!"

"Stop talking. Stop asking. I can't talk about it. And I mean I can't talk about it. I can never get the words out. Say exactly what he did...I don't even know how I survived those three days in court." Jac laughs bitterly.

"Court?"

"I was so sure I'd collapse and die when I saw him staring at me. In the witness box, and it's me against him and he's making up all these lies. So many lies. Sure he's a nonce but I wanted it. Girls like her with addicts for fathers, girls in care. We know what we're doing. It wasn't his fault I wore those skirts. Who cares if it was my school uniform? Who cares if those tempting shorts were part of my P.E kit? That bastard lawyer of his looks at me and says I must've known how it made him feel. Me walking around in those clothes. I was twelve the first time he snuck into my bed. He was a grown man. W-what was I supposed to do?"

It's the alcohol talking, she tells herself. She's not this emotional, but she's always been a lightweight. A few drinks and her composure would slip; she'd be more open and maybe even give out the rare compliment. Drinking with him was foolish. There was so much left unsaid, and she had so much she wished she could tell him, even if she shouldn't.

"How about how I felt? Having him touch me like that...Under my clothes. His hands on my skin. On my body. Because it's my fucking body! He ruined it. He ruined me. He...he got me pregnant and tried to play victim. Like I'm not the one who suffered! The one who went without food so she didn't. I couldn't even cry about it. Couldn't self medicate cause I was always thinking of her. Fuck, I'm think of her now. And it's not fucking fair! When the fuck do I get to live? To breathe?!"

"It feels like from the moment I learned to walk I've been on my own. Why didn't I get to be a child?! I didn't get a fucking childhood so don't you dare say you understand! The biggest shock you got when you were thirteen was your first hangover at a Christmas party. When I was thirteen I found out I was having my rapists baby!"

She's crying again. Full on sobbing, wailing even. Her heart is breaking, and she can't understand why. She's been keeping it together so well over the last few weeks, being there for AJ, but she's slowly begun to crack. It's why she was secretly glad her daughter was off on a trip to Berlin. She could fall apart in peace. For the first time since she held her daughter, she's letting herself think about how angry she is that she had a child at fourteen. She loves her daughter, she knows she does, but the guilt still comes.

She can't help but get angry when she thinks of all the days she wanted to do nothing but drink away her thoughts and having to push that desire aside because she needed to be a mother. She hates the part of her that feels this way. Resents the fact she can never put herself first. She'd put AJ first every time, she's nothing like her mother but sometimes she hates the fact she had his child.

Why couldn't AJ be the result of a teenage fumble? Of an irresponsible night with her first love? It would make it so much easier if she was. No paralysing flashbacks to the day she realised she was pregnant. No flashbacks to the first time he hurt her. Just memories of a man who left but she had been happy with once.

"You didn't deserve that. Truly and honestly. I am so sorry anyone ever made you feel otherwise."

Joseph holds her tightly, tears running down his face, as she soaks his shirt. He can't find the words to comfort her; the apologies seem useless. She has literally collapsed into his arms, unable to stand because her whole body is trembling with each sob. He hopes his embrace can be a comfort, letting her know she's not alone.

He feels guilt over his passing comment about surrogate fathers years ago. There was no way he could have known the pain it would cause her. He just wanted to hurt her at the time. See her cry. Now he'd do anything for her to stop. Her tears keep on coming, he can feel her heart shattering as he holds her, and though the alcohol can't be helping, it's been a long time coming. All he can think as her wails refuse to die down into a whimper is that life truly is cruel.