Amelie hung back in the dark corners of the room as one of the nurses dabbed at her mother's pale face. She still couldn't believe it. No, the truth was she didn't want to believe it. There were still so many things that would forever be left unsaid. Amelie swallowed but the lump in her throat remained.

"Do you want to see her?" The nurse asked but Amelie shook her head. "You don't have to but it can help the grieving process."

"I'm fine," Amelie tried to say but her words were faint and her eyes betrayed her lie.

"We'll be taking her to the morgue shortly," the nurse informed her and, with a gentle rub of Amelie's shoulder, she left them alone.

Amelie took a step towards Angela's body and then another. She had to say goodbye at least. The room felt as if it was growing colder with every step; Amelie's legs start to shake so violently that it became almost impossible for her to move any closer. But she was not so easily defeated. Amelie found herself looking down at Angela's peaceful face, her eyes closed and all semblance of life washed away.

"I don't forgive you," said Amelie. "I can't." She wiped away the tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't want it to end like this. I didn't know…" Her voice trailed away into nothingness. Amelie's fingers found the edge of the white sheet. "You be happy now, okay? Tell Abi…tell her I'm sorry and," Amelie broke off and this time she did not attempt to stem the flow of tears cascading down her chilled cheeks. She felt the roughness of the sheet still clutched between her thumb and forefinger. "What's the use?" Amelie said and glanced up at the white plastered ceiling. She covered her mother's face with the sheet.

Jac lay on her front, her eyes skimming through the pages of a hefty book on cardiovascular disease. Every now and then, Jac's eyes flickered to the fresh burn mark on her arm where Guy had slammed it against the hot stove the night before. A large blister had already formed and it still stung just by looking at it. Jac felt no pain, however. She rarely felt anything anymore. Her eyelids began to droop. Joseph's face loomed in her mind but it wasn't the Joseph who had left her behind. His eyes looked on hers with coldness in them and as his lips moved, Jac began to tremble all over.

Why do you always want to see me cry?

To see how far robotics has progressed.

Jac began to scratch at the blister. It was gentle at first but a fury seemed to take hold of her and she scratched harder and faster. The skin of the blister burst and its liquid contents splashed around the wound but Jac did not desist. Perhaps, Jac thought, she would break the skin and expose the metal below.

"Jac?" Guy's voice sounded from behind the closed door. Jac looked up at her arm and was shocked to see wet blood trickling down towards her wrist. "Jac, are you in there?"

"J…just a second," Jac managed to reply and she quickly leapt off the bed. She was walking towards the door when Guy opened it and came inside.

"I think we need to talk," said Guy, taking a seat on their bed. He patted the duvet beside him, indicating for Jac to sit as well. Jac did as she was told.

"Do we?" Jac looked up at Guy's face. He wasn't angry. She couldn't remember the last time he had smiled like that at her before. It was strange, unnerving even.

"We don't often get the chance to just talk," said Guy. He stroked her elbow with a soft movement of his hand.

"We're just busy," Jac replied, twisting her body away from his. Guy caught sight of the blood drying on her arm and frowned.

"What happened?"

You did. Jac bit her tongue.

"I caught it on something," she lied. "It's nothing."

"You need to wash that," Guy whispered. "It could get infected." He held her fingers between his.

I'm already infected.

"I'll do it later," Jac said, flinching at Guy's cold touch.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Guy was looking straight into her now but he could not see.

I hate you. Guy leant towards her and kissed her cheek.

"Guy," Jac began but she thought better of it. She closed her mouth and looked away. Her face stung with shame.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just need to read up on this procedure." She indicated the book lying facedown beside her. She expected Guy's temper to flare but he merely nodded and slid off the bed.

"I'll get the first aid kit for you," he said as he closed the bedroom door behind him.

Michael Spence stepped on to AAU with a new gleam in his eye. He rubbed his hands and smiled as he observed Serena dealing with a patient. Seizing his opportunity, Michael strode towards Serena and scooped up the clipboard attached to the metal frame of the trolley.

"Compound fracture of the tib and fib," Michael enthused. Serena turned her head to stare mercilessly at him.

"Michael Spence, I might have guessed."

"Been a while Ms. Campbell," replied Michael. "Look at the state of this place, Ric losing his touch?"

"Our dear Mr. Griffin is currently raving about the wonders of free healthcare in the scorching heats of the United States. Meanwhile, the NHS continues to crumble under lack of funding and a government that couldn't care less," Serena finished with a sardonic smile.

"I hear you," said Michael. "So, what happened to this guy?" Serena deftly grabbed the clipboard out of Michael's relaxed grip.

"Mr. Spence, this is Mr. Wallis. Mr. Wallis, this is Mr. Spence."

"I would get up and shake your hand," said Mr. Wallis, "but I'm afraid I'm a little bit stuck."

"Would you mind?" Serena handed the clipboard back to Michael who slotted it back into its place. "Mr. Wallis here has a bit of a story to tell."

"Oh yeah?" Michael's eyes surveyed the fractured bone sticking out of Mr. Wallis' leg.

"Oh yes," said Serena. "You see he had a brilliant idea this morning, didn't you, Mr. Wallis?" Mr. Wallis nodded. "Now what do you do if you want to have a tree cut down, Mr. Spence?"

"I give the lumberjacks a call," Michael shrugged.

"Exactly. Mr. Wallis thought differently. He thought it would be a brilliant idea to climb up the tree and start sawing the branches above his head. Unfortunately, Mr. Wallis rather overestimated his sense of balance and plummeted twenty feet onto the gravel below."

"Ouch," said Michael. Serena raised her eyebrow at him before turning back to Mr. Wallis.

"This is going to hurt." Michael pulled the curtain around them.

The sun had set as Michael walked into the memorial garden. He needed somewhere to clear his head and this seemed the best place. There had been subtle changes, Michael noticed as his footsteps squelched on the mulch of wet leaves. Rain was falling but it didn't bother him as his eye caught site of a freshly cleaned plaque attached to a bench that hadn't been there the last time.

In loving memory of Sacha Levy. The sound of twig snapping echoed behind Michael and he turned to see Jac standing, frozen. She was holding white lilies rapped in wet brown paper.

"Come on then, Naylor," said Michael. "I won't bite."

"I didn't know you'd be here," said Jac. "I'll come back later." She started to turn away.

"No, wait," Michael whispered. "You don't have to go." Jac hesitated and placed the flowers on Sacha's bench.

"It was my fault," murmured Jac.

"I didn't know," sighed Michael.

"How could you?" They both stared into the distance for a while, watching as the cool rain splashed against their faces. It was Michael who broke the silence.

"You always think things will stay the same," he said. "That you could go away and still come back to how it was before. But that's not true, is it?"

"No," said Jac, her voice quiet.

"Do you ever wonder what your last thought will be before you die?" Jac frowned at him. It seemed a peculiar question to ask.

Yes, I think the same thought every day.

"No," said Jac.

"I wonder what Sacha's was," Michael glanced at the flowers as he spoke. The paper was flapping in the gentle breeze and droplets of rainwater glanced off the top of the lilies.

"I have to go."

"There's always a way out, Naylor," said Michael. "It just takes a little time to find it."

Don't worry about me. That was what Jac wanted to say but the words would not form in her mouth. I'll find it. She faked a smile at Michael and headed back towards the hospital. Michael didn't follow. He heard a faint sound near him.

"Is anyone there?" There was no response. "Hello?" Michael shook his head. It was probably nothing. Perhaps some animal had woken to the sound of falling rain. He wiped the water away from his face and started to walk.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and then a sharp pain in his back. Before he could shout out, Michael was alone again and his knees buckled. Pins and needles flooded through his veins as he lay face up on the cold wet wood. He closed his eyes and saw bright stars.

I'm not ready. Michael's breathing became laboured and, as he looked up at the hospital, he knew no one was coming.

TO BE CONTINUED