Embroiled

She was embroiled, and there was nothing she could do. Sinking deeper, she feels like there's no one to turn to and she's all alone….But she's so wrong

Bonjour my fellow fanfictioners. Guess what?! I'VE FINISHED MY DEGREE! Results won't be known for like 3 and a bit weeks, but the important thing is that all the work is done!

So here is my take on the fallout of the Romania episode (speculation of potential spoilers, you have been warned). P.S. I've planned out the entire fic, and hope to post daily, except Saturdays when I'm working.

Also, I'm going to end the chapter with a line from a song, a recommendation of sorts as well as a 'this song totally reflects what I'm trying to do with the chapter'.

Chapter 1: Discovered

Her hands were shaking again, noted Charlie. She'd been all, well, wrong since Romania; different, vulnerable, as if Alex had got her to open up before crushing her all the way down to rock bottom. He thought he'd seen her hit rock bottom, but he was seriously starting to question whether she'd made it there until now.

'Connie,' he said slowly as she tried to incubate the young man on the bed in resus.

'I can do this,' she said breathily, before closing her eyes and inserting the tube correctly, exhaling the long-awaited breath with relief and turning on her heel.

He quickly followed, wanting to speak to her alone.

'Connie,' he said quietly, her small and ever-shrinking form turning to face him. 'Are you okay?'

'Why wouldn't I be?' she barked dismissively, wincing at how defensive and adolescent she sounded.

'Look, I know that Romania wasn't only traumatic for me,' replied Charlie delicately, not knowing how to phrase 'I know you slept with Alex, let him past your defences and he shattered them'.

'Is it that obvious?' she asked quietly, trying not to let their eyes meet, but when they did, she knew it was and stared at the floor.

'The look on your face when you saw him operating on Louis. That wasn't just professional outrage. You were genuinely hurt. He got under your skin, past your defences, the look you gave him was somewhere between kicked puppy and disdain.' He was trying to be tentative, and vocalise his thoughts without bruising the consultant's fragile emotions further.

'It meant nothing to him,' she said. 'I was in a bad place, vulnerable, and I let him in. It was a mistake. The old Connie Beauchamp never would have let him get so close.'

'Better to find out now than further down the line if things got more serious,' mused Charlie. 'You're looking very pale, I hope you've been looking after yourself.'

'Of course,' she replied briskly. 'I just think I'm coming down with something. Do let me know about Mr Collins' condition and whether he needs further intervention. Hopefully Keller will have a bed for him soon, there's not much we can do here.'

'Of course,' he said gently, recognising her fall back to professional talk to save face in the wake of her show of vulnerability. 'Will you be in your office?'

'Yes,' she replied after some thought. 'I've got a lot of paperwork to catch up on. Keep me informed.'

She turned to walk away, her office being within her sight quickly as she increased her speed. Sitting herself down on the plush sofa, she exhaled and reached for her bag.

It was time. She'd been denying the signs were there for too long.

She'd suspected something was wrong for a couple of weeks now, and it felt achingly familiar. The nausea, the weird cravings at strange times, the bloating, the absent call of Mother Nature, it was starting to stack up.

Her first sign had been the awful reunion with the toilet bowl two weeks ago. Blaming a bug, she carried on and buried herself in work, her usual coping mechanism. It had always worked for her, and she assumed the problem would go away. It didn't, the nausea and sickness greeted her at odd times of the day like an old friend.

The second sign was what basically confirmed it in her mind that this problem she faced had rather large implications. It had occurred during a visit to Elliot's office the day befpre, with that familiar box of doughnuts gracing his desk. His diet must have failed again, with the sugary confection sitting there as if nothing had changed. It was as if they were staring at her, begging to be eaten, so she resisted, grabbing a chocolate sprinkled one and devouring it. She didn't even like doughnuts. The last time she'd found a doughnut was so appealing, she was pregnant, Grace squirming around inside her as she grew.

The thought made her feel more nauseous, and taking her bag with her, she ran to the toilet to throw up once more. She had to do this test, she had to be sure. But she didn't want to be sure. Because the only answer if she was pregnant was Alex. Oh God, Alex, she thought to herself. The Romanian doctor who she let in, past that heart of ice and those high-scaled fenced defences, to the point where he had got under her skin. Only to betray her trust, to butcher Louis like that for money. Not only had he compromised every ethical code she held dearly, he was a criminal, plain and simple.

Sitting on the seat of the toilet, she began the anxious wait, her reverie broken by the continuous beeping of her pager. Joe Collins had deteriorated, alarmingly so, and needed emergency surgery to stand a hope of making it up to Keller. Swearing to herself, she put the test in her scrub pocket and the box in the bin, resolving to check it later.

And her day went on, as if her silent thoughts had not existed, as if her few minutes in the toilet had not happened. Buried in her work, something she was comfortable with, where she felt in control, it made every difference to her state of mind. That was why she had to keep working. That was why she couldn't stop. All the bad things happened when she turned her focus away from work. Just look at Alfred, she got too emotionally involved, and her love and attentiveness had landed her in a jail cell accused of murder.

After several hours of unbroken scurrying between emergencies, she finally sat down, breathing a sigh of relief when she stretched out in her office chair. As she did so, some of her paperwork had begun a messy descent to the floor. Sighing in a completely different context, she bent down to pick up the scattered sheets as the test fell out and there was a knock on the door.

'Come in, oh no don't, I mean, oh God,' she said loudly, struggling to pick up the test and hide it out of sight, not caring whether she had an answer at this moment in time.

'Umm, so you thought that was why you're feeling so ill?' said Charlie carefully.

'I haven't even had a chance to look,' she said, turning the test over in her hand and groaning. 'Oh god, I'm pregnant with a butcher's baby, a criminal!'

'That doesn't matter,' he replied, helping her pick up her stray paperwork. 'What's matters is what you do next.'

Song of the day/chapter - Delta Goodrem – Not Me, Not I – 'If you think, love is blind, that I wouldn't see the flaws between the lines, surprise'