I probably shouldn't have started something new until I finshed Walking Away but the epilogue won't go right and this has been fighting it's way out of my imagination and onto the screen so I just got on with it and I hope you enjoy it.

1. Drinking Alone

Sam picked up the post on her way out of the flat for the early shift. She'd been shattered the night before and obviously failed to notice it in her mailbox on her way in. They were official looking communications in plain white window envelopes and didn't look remotely interesting so she stuffed them into her backpack and headed from work on her bike. She was early enough to have the staffroom to herself so she settled down with a large mug of coffee and decided to deal with her post. With any luck it would be rubbish and she could transfer it straight to the bin and not bother taking it home again.

She ripped open the first envelope which transpired to be from the CPS telling her that they would not be taking any action over her alleged assault on Keith Parr because there was no case to answer. She breathed a sigh of relief she'd always maintained that she'd done nothing wrong but it was good to know that the law agreed with her. Maybe now she could have her life back.

She opened the second letter and the familiar logo on the headed notepaper jumped out at her.

General Medical Council

London

Dear Dr Nicholls,

You are directed to attend a hearing at our Portland Street building on ... In order that the matter of the alleged serious assault committed by you on the person of Keith Parr might be investigated further. . .

Sam couldn't read anymore. Keith Parr must have made a complaint to the GMC and they thought there was something in it. She was going to be disciplined. She might lose her job or worse her registration. For as long as she could remember all she'd ever wanted was to be a doctor. It was what had kept her going through six years of Med. School and the year of hell that the BMA liked to call the postgraduate registration year. That was why she'd signed away six years of her life to the British Army to pay for her training. If they took her right to practice away from her after all that, it would all have been for nothing, worse she'd have sacrificed her marriage and lost the man she loved for nothing. Sinking back onto the staffroom sofa, she let the letter fall to the floor, covered her face with her hands and fought the sudden onslaught of tears that was threatening to overwhelm her.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there but eventually she thought she heard a movement behind her and sat up, sucking in a deep breath and visibly pulling herself together. She didn't want any of her colleagues to know about this not yet. She'd find a way to get through this and she'd do it without becoming the centre of hospital gossip again. The police didn't think it was her fault and Mr Jordan hadn't thought it was her fault. He'd insisted it was self defence right from the start and to give him his due so had Dylan. She would phone the medical defence union and they'd make a plan. She would not let that useless excuse of a man take her profession from her it was all she had left!

Calmly and deliberately she finished the cooling coffee and stood up ready to begin her day. There were still patients to be treated no matter what crisis was going on in her own life. It was much easier to deal with the patients problems than her own anyway, She remembered dropping the letter on the floor bent to pick it up and stuffed it into her locker – she'd rather no one found that laying around.

"Sam could I have a word?" She looked up to see Nick standing in the doorway looking rather awkward.

"Sure," she wondered why he didn't just come out with whatever it was and be done with it.

"Not here, in my office." He said uncomfortably shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

"Ok," she gave him a puzzled look, and wondered what it was he had to say to her that he couldn't say in the staffroom.

She followed him into his office and the vague sense of disquiet deepened into unaccountable nervousness when he firmly closed the door behind them and invited her to sit down. This much formality was unusual for Nick.

"Sam I've just received this from the GMC. They are considering disciplinary action against you over. I'm really sorry until it's all sorted out I've got no choice but to suspend you," he was definitely ill at ease she noted wondering if he hated this even more than she did

"But... you said you didn't blame me and I've a letter from the CPS they said I haven't got a case to answer." She protested bewildered.

"I really am very sorry Sam my hands are tied. Trust policy dictates that I have to ask you to be off hospital property in twenty minutes." He was very brisk obviously trying to get the unpleasant task over as quickly as possible. "If I were you Sam, I'd give the MDU a call."

"Whatever," she said trying to conceal her hurt and disappointment. She'd thought Nick was on her side.

"I know this is far from pleasant but I'm sure it will all be sorted out soon and we'll have you back in no time. Nick assured her. "On the bright side you are suspended on full pay. Innocent until proven guilty and all that."

It was cold comfort. She trailed out of the office disconsolately, changed out of her scrubs back into her own things and emptied her locker into her backpack hoping against hope none of her colleagues would ask any questions. She couldn't face any of them now. She walked slowly across reception towards the exit, wondering what she was going to do with her suddenly empty day.

"Sam what the hell are you doing? Are you ill?" Dylan barked irritably. "Is there a reason why you're sloping off out instead of helping me? Zoe's late, Lenny's flirting with Linda, Nick's hiding in his office and I've got a backlog a mile long."

"I'm not allowed near any patients. I've been suspended," she blurted out.

"What bloody idiot's done that?" He was clearly outraged and she felt a sudden warm glow that he was irate on her behalf.

"Nick" she said succinctly.

"What did he go and do that for?" he said in disgust.

"Apparently his hands are tied." Sam couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "It's Trust policy because the GMC is going to take action against me."

"All the Trust cares about is covering its arse." Dylan said resentfully "well you'd better bloody well go then. I'm sure I'll manage by myself I always do."

The warm glow faded abruptly when she realised Dylan hadn't sympathised, hadn't asked her why the GMC were taking action, hadn't expressed his faith that she'd be fine or even advised her to call the MDU. He didn't give a damn about her – only his workload and the smooth running of the ED.

Sam walked slowly out through the main doors of Holby ED hoping it wouldn't be for the last time. It was cold outside with a heavy dark grey sky threatening rain. All in all the day was as bleak as she was the perfect match to her mood. She hoped it wouldn't start to rain before she got herself and her bike home. There was nothing worse than heavy rain when you were cycling.

When she finally arrived back at the flat; she never called it a home it was just the place where she slept, she was cold, wet (the threatened rain having arrived with a vengeance) and very annoyed, as a road hog in a Chelsea tractor had driven past and drenched her in icy muddy water from a puddle. Today was definitely not her day. She dropped her stuff in the hall and took herself off to run a hot bath, she really fancied a long soak and put the kettle on for the coffee she'd been promising herself most of the way home. Apart from anything else it would kill some time. She had a long empty day ahead of her.

Afterwards she forced herself to make that phone call to the MDU. They agreed to send a representative to talk to her and appoint a solicitor on her behalf. They seemed very optimistic and assured her that she did have a very strong case for self defence. She was entitled to use reasonable force to defend herself or a colleague. They even pointed out that several people had recently not been charged by the CPS after killing someone in self defence. Indeed the man on the other end appeared to admire her efforts, openly wondering that a woman could conjure up the strength to break anyone's neck. Men were strange like that. She wasn't proud of herself she'd just done what she had to do, to protect Dylan.

She passed a solitary and aimless day. She had no idea what to do or when to do it. She'd not made any friends or taken up anything new since she came to Holby and the unexpected free time hung heavily on her hands. She wandered round the shops for a bit but shopping had never been for her and then went out for a long run. She wished she could have taken Dervla for a walk – the company would have been nice but she didn't have a key to Dylan's boat and even if she did she could hardly take his dog out without asking first.

She wondered if this was perhaps the most isolated she'd ever been. Just one day had made it abundantly clear to her that without her job she had nothing at all. If the GMC took any form of disciplinary action against her she'd be dishonorably discharged from the Army and what would she have then, no family, a husband who didn't want her, no profession, and no source of income. What the hell would she do?

Panic rose, as she considered the worst case scenario and wondered what she would do. She could resign herself to a life on benefits, except she couldn't claim any because technically she was still married to a very high earner. The Government would not care that she'd sooner starve in a cardboard box than accept a penny from her estranged husband. Find someplace somewhere where they were desperate enough for a doctor they wouldn't be too concerned about her lack of professional membership? Or find a job doing something anything else although who would want to employ a doctor who'd been disgraced for violence. She was going to be unemployable.

She wanted Dylan, needed him to hold her and offer the love and protection that had once been unstintingly hers but she'd lost that. He didn't care about her plight only about the effect on the department. She'd killed all the love he once felt for her by her own actions and now she would have to face this alone. If she was struck off – she could always kill herself she decided calmly. There'd be nothing left for her and it wasn't as if there was anyone who'd give a damn. It was the one choice she'd have left.

Tears trickled down her cheeks as she sat in the dark wondering how she'd been reduced to this; when she'd left Medical School less than 3 years ago she'd had such a bright future ahead of her, now here she was 26, separated, but still in love with her husband, and at risk of being struck off.

She pressed the wedding ring she still liked to wear when she was alone briefly to her lips. It was little enough but it was all she had left of the husband she'd loved and lost. Still loved with quiet determination even though she knew the hope of reconciliation was all but gone. She couldn't blame him; she was the one who'd betrayed their marriage. Small wonder he couldn't forgive or forget. She'd learned to bear it; you could learn to bear almost anything. She'd grown accustomed to the loneliness and the dull ache every time she thought about him, which since she'd been in Holby was about as often as she breathed.

The irony of it all was that she had never even looked at anyone else since and he was busy moving on and beginning a relationship with one of their colleagues. A relationship it was half killing her to watch and watch it she must because she had to work with them and anyway they were being so very civilized about it all. They were still friends and what a hollow empty sounding word that was when she wanted so much more. She hated being 'civilised' and she hated being 'friends'.

Tonight she decided she wasn't even going to try and be brave, she was going to wallow in her misery and self pity in peace. So she got up poured herself a large glass of whiskey and then stared down into her drink wondering how much more alcohol it would take to numb her completely. She told herself the spirit was to help her sleep but mostly she wanted the blessed oblivion it would bring. She desperately wanted eight hours dream free sleep - she couldn't remember the last time that had happened. The whiskey was the colour of his eyes. She'd always loved his eyes they were so soft and it seemed as if she could look into their dark depths forever. Pushing Dylan's eyes out of her mind, she took a generous mouthful and the spirit burnt through her warming her body even if her heart was still a solid icy lump that nothing could ever thaw.

She was halfway down the second large tumbler when the doorbell rang. She ignored it; she wasn't expecting anyone and she didn't feel like talking to anyone this evening. She wasn't fit company for anyone either, she was wearing her oldest PJ's, her hair was unwashed and she knew her crying jag would be blatantly obvious. The doorbell rang again more loudly - no doubt it was one of her concerned colleagues and they wouldn't go away until she let them in. The unseen visitor began beating a tattoo on the door with his fists. She'd have to let whoever it was in before the neighbours called the police.

"I know you're in there Sam. Open the door. Samantha let me in." Dylan was clearly not in one of his more patient moods and he definitely wouldn't go away until she let him in. Resentfully she dragged herself to her feet pulling the ring off and concealing it in her dressing gown pocket quickly, he was the last person she wanted to know she still wore it,

"I'm coming" she called as she hurried down the hallway. She opened the door then stood back to let him pass her. "You'd better come in you'll wake the neighbours."

"You look like hell," he told her bluntly.

"Thanks," she retorted knowing that he was right but not wanting to hear it all the same. "You always did know how to pay a compliment."

Dylan looked at his wife anxiously, she looked awful her eyes were red and swollen and those parts of her face which were not red and blotchy were greyish green. She looked exhausted and he thought she'd lost weight since that morning even though it couldn't be possible but she definitely seemed smaller somehow. As he walked past her into the dark sitting room he caught the familiar scent of Johnny Walker.

"You've been drinking!" he said accusingly

"So what if I have?" she said resentfully.

"I know you've had a lousy day, but that won't make it go away," he replied slightly more gently. He of all people knew it was impossible to drown your sorrows and the last thing he wanted was to see his fragile wife slide down the same treacherous path that he had. "I'll get you a coffee."

"I don't want a coffee," she snapped.

"I didn't ask if you wanted one, you need one," he said insistently.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I don't suppose that this is a social call."

"Not exactly no," he agreed.

"Well what then?" she demanded.

Dylan considered briefly how best to tell her then decided he may as well just come straight out with it. "There was a message on the answer phone when I got home asking me to phone a Dr Russell at Wansbeck Hospital."

"Wansbeck!" Sam gave him a puzzled look "That's in Northumberland isn't it? Have you been applying for jobs up there?"

"Hardly. I phoned him – it was his personal mobile and it turns out it was about Mollie." Dylan explained rapidly.

"Mollie," she echoed "Your sister Mollie?"

"Of course my sister, how many Mollies do you think I know?" he asked her tersely.

"I've no idea," she retorted. "you could no hundreds for all I know."

"Before we sidetrack anymore," Dylan took a deep breath and carried on "Dr Russell told me that Mollie's dying Sam. She's dying and she wants me, wants us to go up there."

Sam looked at him totally bewildered "Dying- how can she be. Was there an accident?"

She was reeling and vaguely wondering if she'd drunk more than she thought she had. Mollie was older than Dylan but not much. She hadn't seen her in years but she wasn't the fragile sort at all. She'd never been ill either as far as she could remember. She tried to think back to the last occasion when she'd seen Mollie Keogh and found she wasn't sure. Mollie had come to their wedding and then Dylan and his sister had argued she didn't know why and as far as she knew there had been little or no contact since.

"Russell wasn't very clear on the phone; he said he'd explain when we got there." Dylan explained.

"You are going to go aren't you?" Sam asked him

Her husband seemed remarkably calm for someone who had just announced that his only sibling was dying. Of course that was his way even if his world had been falling round his ears – and for all she knew it could be. The self-possessed Dr Keogh would matter of factly look at the cold hard facts.

"Of course I am. She wanted you to go too," he said

"Me? Why me? She barely knows me." Sam asked

"I don't know why but she said she wanted both of us to go. That's why I'm here. You will come won't you? Please Sam." Dylan implored her.

She didn't hesitate. Dylan never asked her to do anything. She had no idea why Mollie had asked for her but if he wanted her to go with him there was no question about it she'd go. "Of course I'll come. Make us both a coffee while I get dressed."

Thank you for reading this. Reviews are as always very welcome.