A/N: this idea basically started as a dream; Connie's friend created her a profile on a dating website and that's where she meets Rita. I have quite a few additional ideas for this, so thought I'd give writing it a go.

It'll be a bit AUish to begin with as Connie is a top cardiothoracics surgeon working in a private hospital in London. I have borrowed Jac Naylor from Holby because I couldn't decide on anyone in Casualty to be the friend who signs Connie up to a dating website. Rita is still clinical nurse manager at Holby City ED. I think everything else will explain itself pretty much.

I don't own any of the characters.

I'd love to know what people think? :)

~Mini Peacelet~

Arrhythmia - Part 1

"You have done what?" Connie's dark orbs amplified pointedly, fingertips paused as they hovered in mid motion from typing intensely at the keypad. Her gaze tilted, greeting her friend's across the room, a surgeon with long auburn hair clutching her tablet fervently.

The device was dropped onto the desk in front of her, "You heard. Internet dating."

She blinked repeatedly, absorbing the words raptly that had been articulated before. Material her ears believed to have mistakenly hatched from misinterpretation; though evidently it was true.

"Jac, that is absolutely absurd!" A perverse scoff was exhaled, arms folded firmly across her chest while she refused to acknowledge the content beneath her very nose.

"Maybe." Her friend jerked her shoulders dismissively, dazzling a smug grin, "But you know it's exactly what you need." Clad in navy scrubs, stretched over her swollen stomach, she perched on the edge of the desk.

The brunette huffed disdainfully, rolling her eyes with frustration, "Internet dating is not exactly what I need. I told you, I'm not even interested in dating. And even if I was, I certainly would not be investing my time in requesting your help after last time." She shot a narrowed glare at her colleague.

Reminiscences of the previous turmoils when Jac had become involved in the cardiothoracic surgeon's love life were still very much raw. The loss of custody of Connie's daughter had arrived as a weighty shock of bitterness and misery; the young girl jetting away to the other side of the world to live with her father. She was lonely and gloomy with no one for company outside of her demanding job.

Her best friend had suggested - insisted - she participated in a series of blind dates, organised by herself. The first had gone horribly wrong, Jac shared the blame with the older woman's dating skills to be a little rusty. It had been a while. Clever persuasion had tempted the brunette to attend another two. One man had been a boring professor with an obsession for astronomy, the other simply desiring to get her drunk and into bed.

The fourth blind date had been different, and actually the very best of them all. Until a rather severe and unexpected fact had been revealed at the end of their night. And a very pricey one. Connie had been apprehensive subsequently to learning her company was female, never something she had acquainted with herself. But the night had been truly divine.

"The whole prostitute date was a complete accident! I honestly didn't know! Don't hold it against me." The red head groaned at the memories, a furious and embarrassed friend calling her in the early hours of the morning to inform her of the unintentional shambles.

"Clearly." Another scoff, "And a perfectly acceptable justification of why I am politely declining your offer of interference."

After the disastrous dates with males, and the almost successful one with a female, the fifth and final blind date was with a lady. Though, it had quickly ended when it became apparent that a one night stand was the only agenda. But it had fuelled Jac's efforts, and she had signed the brunette up to a online dating site.

"Just take a look." Jac reasoned stubbornly, switching her tablet for a note scribbled with the website, username and password, "Those are the login details. You'll thank me later." Jumping to her feet, smirking proudly, she whirled out of the office to resume her duties, rubbing her ever-growing baby bump.

~\~\~

Equipped with a glass of red wine, Connie had transitioned into a cosy loungewear attire subsequently to showering and perched on her plush couch, curling her legs and feet beneath her. The dainty, crystal stem of the glass was pressed tentatively between her index finger and thumb, laptop tucked under the other arm.

It was the evening. As always, she had eaten and now prepared to settle and complete some reports and documents in the comfort of her own home. A spacious three-bedroom detached property, located in a wealthy sector of the capital city, modern decor with her own exquisite taste. With her favourite red wine, just to make it that little bit more sufferable.

The brunette flicked through her latest medical report, studying the content in detail, balmy lips compressed around the delicate edge of the glass as she swallowed another tiny sip of the burgundy coloured liquid, savouring the rich fruity flavours that tickled her taste buds.

But her concentration was poor; practically nonexistent. Her chocolate eyes sparkled, staring into the thin air of her living room. Connie Beauchamp was procrastinating - an unfamiliar trait in her dominant charisma. Her thoughts drifted back to the conversation with her friend earlier that day, teeth gritted as she reluctantly considered that Jac could be right.

Never would she admit it, but perhaps she was lonely. Returning home after gruelling shifts in an elite theatre to a deserted house. It wasn't a home, not anymore. She missed - pined for - the sticky fingertips that left dirty marks on her glistening glass surfaces during toddler years to the clothes and toys cluttered haphazardly across the floors, and more recently the harsh bang of the bedroom doors, an attitudey stomp and music blaring way too loudly from the stereo.

Or the equivalent in a partner; likewise mess with crumpled clothes strewn across the carpet, the wafting smells of dinner cooking in the kitchen, and the companionship was genuinely beautiful. Everything was precisely neat and tidy these days, and horribly silent. The idea of reviving the feeling of company was becoming increasingly appetising. Then her thoughts drifted to obtaining new befrienings, and perhaps even love.

Jac was great - she would never deny that - and their friendship was relished. However, the red head was occupied with her own affairs, married and a baby due in a matter of weeks. Her attention understandingly would be redirected to her bundle of joy and family.

Suddenly, Connie had regained her equilibrium and dashed across the polished tiles that coated the downstairs floor to locate her handbag. Slender hands foraged through the contents of the designer bag, recovering the crinkled sheet of paper she had hastily deposited in there in a rush. She padded back to her seat with it, resuming her position.

Heartbeats.

That was the name of the dating website. Hesitantly, she typed the address into her laptop, hitting the enter key. Accompanied with a topped up wine glass, she wasn't totally convinced this was such a wise decision...but a little look wouldn't hurt. Curiosity prevailed.

Next followed the username and password. LouboutinQueenB. A chuckle exhaled from her lips as she raised the crystal glass to her mouth again. The password created more laughter. JacNaylorRocks1234. Then she chose to check out the profile her colleague had generated on her behalf.

'Forty something. Qualified doctor and surgeon, employed currently at a hospital in London. More specifically, a heart surgeon, so even if you've had your heart broken previously, I'll be able to fix it. Lover of designer shoes, especially famous red-soled heels. Designer handbags are also relatively appealing. Devoted wine drinker - sensible quantities, evidently. Looking for long term love. Brown eyed blondes are much preferred.'

She cringed, cursing at her own naivety at trusting Jac Naylor again. The description was pretty accurate over all, though the fixing broken hearts sector was far too cheesy. Yet she couldn't quite locate the edit button. The profile picture her best friend had selected was equally as embarrassing, and she couldn't figure out how to change that either.

Grumbling in frustration, she polished off her red wine and began searching the local area for potential dates. In reality, she was vainly checking pictures and careers. And she began to scroll after entering a limiting criteria.