[ Silence and Tears ]

AUTHOR: Isabelle Kennedy

FEEDBACK: [email protected]

WEBPAGE: http://www.geocities.com/retroeighties

CATEGORY: Patrick/Holly AU

SPOILERS: General

RATING: R (Language)

DISCLAIMER: All characters are the property of the BBC, Kelsey, Huggett & related companies. No copyright infringement intended. Summary is courtesy of Byron. Archive anywhere; just drop me a line first.

SUMMARY: ‘When we two were parted/In silence and tears/Half-broken hearted/To sever for years/Pale grew thy cheek and cold/Colder thy kiss/Truly that hour foretold/Sorrow to this.’

He was sitting at the nurses' station, absently twisting a battered biro in his fingers. His eyes glanced over the medical journal on the table, then suddenly his mind registered and he looked back to the job vacancy on the previous page. It was a consultant post - slightly ambitious, but he'd never been accused of humility before. However, this post had a distinct advantage; it was in Wakefield, which was about 300 hundred miles away.

As he circled the advertisement in red, he wondered whether he was doing the right thing. Until he had seen this post, leaving wasn't really a serious option. However, he knew it would be foolish to pass up an opportunity like this.

He could hear her walk in his direction; recognise her heels clicking on the cheap floor tiles. She stopped in front of him, her eyes falling to the desk. Hurriedly, he shut the journal, pushing it under a sheaf of papers.

"Holly."

"Patrick," she mimicked, with a smile on her face.

He raised a weary eyebrow, knowing that she was in a mischievous mood.

"Can I help you?" he asked with a sigh.

She was still smiling, perched on the side of the table. "If you can tear yourself away from whatever you're reading, then maybe." She paused, perhaps for effect - he wasn't sure. Probably to get his attention. "There's a woman in three complaining of severe abdominal pain, but I can't figure out what's wrong with her."

He returned his gaze to the myriad of papers scattered across the tabletop. "It's probably appendicitis. Did you check for that?"

She stood up suddenly. "No, Patrick. I spent six years in medical school just to overlook the most basic diagnosis."

He shrugged. "Just a thought."

"Well, thanks for that."

She started to walk away, but he pushed the chair back sharply and followed her.

"Which cubicle?" he asked in a resigned murmur.

"Three," she replied, failing to keep the note of triumph out of her voice.

*

A month later, she walked into the hospital, quickly heading to the staffroom. However, as she passed the reception, Jack held up an envelope and waved in her direction.

"Dr Miles," he called loudly and she stopped walking.

"What?"

He seemed to leer at her almost imperceptibly, although maybe that was just his normal expression. She wasn't sure and she really didn't care that much. There was only one person who she could stand to have leer at her and he hadn't done so for weeks. She realised, with a start, that she was actually starting to miss Patrick's constant attentions. Fending them off had become part of her daily routine and now it felt as though her day was lacking.

Jack broke through her reverie. "Can you give this to Dr Spiller?"

"Why can't he get it himself?" she asked, knowing the question was redundant as soon as she uttered it.

He shrugged. "Can't find him."

She shook her head then, and plucked the envelope out of his hands. As she entered the staffroom, she saw him standing by his locker, rummaging for something inside. Smiling slightly, she hit him on the arm with the envelope and he turned.

"Morning," she said brightly, handing him the letter. He caught the expectant tone of her voice and smiled wryly.

"Aren't you going to open it?" she asked, almost petulantly, as he tossed it into his locker.

"Later," he grinned. "Maybe."

She pretended to pout as he slammed his locker door shut and grabbed his stethoscope. Then, automatically, she reached out to straighten his tie, which never seemed to be neat. He sidestepped her effectively, smiling crookedly.

"Gonna be late."

He then pretended not to notice the confused look on her face.

*

He sat at home later the same evening, turning the letter over in his hands. He'd already held it up to the light, trying vainly to see through the flimsy envelope, but was too nervous to open it. Taking a deep breath, he ripped the paper covering and shook out the folded reply.

When he applied for the job, it was merely out of curiosity. It was only now he realised how much had come to ride upon the answer. His eyes skimmed the heading and dropped to the first paragraph. Then the trapped air escaped with an audible rush.

He'd got the job.

It took a while to process, but his first thought was clear. What was he going to do now? It had never really occurred to him that taking a job in Wakefield meant more than simply leaving Holby. On the mundane side, there was the problem of selling his house and finding somewhere to live in Yorkshire. However, he hadn't counted on the spark of pain when he thought about leaving Holly.

It had been easy the last time. He had been twenty-four, straight out of medical school and eager for a job. She had been one of many girlfriends and he was ashamed to recall that he had not given her much thought. When they met again, his wounded pride had forced him to pursue her, but eventually he realised that was a road that led nowhere. Nevertheless, something had happened - he had begun to like her. In the two years they had been working together, she had become one of his closest friends - not that he had many, but she was one of the few people whose good opinion he cared about soliciting. And if he flirted with her sometimes, well, who could blame him?

Anyway, she gave back as good as she got.

Still, the opportunity was too great. It was time to move on, leave Holby.

*

Entering the staffroom the next day, she reached for the light-switch, but something stopped her from flicking it. He was standing by the sink, looking out of the window and she stopped next to him, leaning her hip against the side of the counter.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

He didn't look at her and she knew that he was lying.

"Patrick." Her voice was a warning

He took a deep breath and she realised that he was about to drop a bombshell. "I'm leaving - I've been offered a job in Wakefield."

Her legs felt unsteady and she gripped the counter for support. "Why?"

"It's a good opportunity."

It took a minute for the news to sink in, and then she spoke.

"How can you just leave?" Her voice was becoming shrill. "Why didn't you talk to me about this?"

"I didn't think I needed your permission," he said quietly.

"I'm your friend. I'd like to know," she snapped.

He frowned slightly. "I'm telling you now."

"You could've told me when you got the letter."

He paused. "I didn't know for sure then."

"But you wanted to leave and that was enough, wasn't it?"

Her voice was loud now and her knuckles gripping the counter were white. He ran a hand impatiently through his hair, his temper starting to get the better of him.

"Have you told anyone else?"

"Max." He spoke in a clipped voice.

There was silence. "I never thought you'd be the type to run away, Patrick," she said softly.

"I'm not."

"The job is in Yorkshire."

"What's your point?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

She threw up her hands in exasperation. "Yorkshire, Patrick? You're not running away… you're running home. Why?"

He brought his hand down sharply on the counter and she flinched. "For god's sake, Holly - I was offered a job, a good job, and I'd be a fool not to take it."

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off before she could speak. "I'm going home - I'm not running home."

"I thought we were friends," she said, almost petulantly.

An expression of absolute frustration suffused his face. "We are, Holly. We are friends and we will continue to be friends."

She glared at him. "I can't be your friend when you're three hundred miles away."

"Why not?"

She rubbed a hand across her face in an effort to calm herself. "Because it doesn't work like that."

"So it's you or the job, then?"

"No." She looked frustrated as well. "I'm not trying to issue an ultimatum, Patrick. I'm just saying that if you move to Yorkshire, then our friendship can't continue the same way. . ."

"You're not doing such a great job of friendship now, Holly. I thought you'd be glad for me, but at the moment, I'm really not sure that you are."

"Of course I am."

"It's a good opportunity," he repeated.

"So, you're taking the job, then?"

He nodded. "Yes. I start in three weeks."

"Okay," she murmured, releasing her grip of the counter and walking slowly towards the door.

"Holly. . ." He caught up with her, one hand forcing the door closed and blocking her exit.

"Patrick, I can't. . . I really don't want to be around you at the moment."

She tried to open the door, but he did not move. "Don't, Holly. Don't act like this."

"How do you want me to act? You've just told me you're leaving in three weeks - what do you expect me to do."

"It's not exactly the easiest thing for me to do, either," he barked.

"It will be. You'll arrive and there'll be so many things going on - new job, new house, and new life, that you'll be fine. Meanwhile," her voice rose. "I'm stuck here, in this hospital, where everything reminds me of you."

"Holly. . ."

"Now please let me go."

Wordlessly, he moved away from the door, recoiling slightly as she slammed it shut with as much force as she could manage.

*

His leaving party was three weeks later. Absently, he watched as people milled about, clutching their drinks as they engaged in increasingly raucous conversation. However, as his eyes roamed the room, he realised that he was looking for someone in particular.

She wasn't there. She hadn't really been there for several weeks, pulling back from their friendship even before he had left. It was ridiculous to think that she would come to his leaving party. Why prolong the agony?

He smiled wryly at the solipsistic thought, tracing the indentations on the worn counter and smoothing down the knotted wood. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar figure enter the room, pausing slightly, an indecipherable look passing across her face. His hand gripped the counter, surprised to find that he was actually nervous. He was nervous to face this woman, knowing that this might be their last chance. She made her way over the floor, so slowly, and he waited, his breath coming in short bursts. Finally, she reached him and his breathing stilled completely, in anticipation of her. Of her thoughts and feelings, but mostly of her. She clasped her hands together in a gesture he recognised well. Nevertheless, he forced her to say the words, to vocalise the motion.

"Patrick, I. . . I'm sorry," she said, her voice soft. So soft that he had to strain in order to hear her. Reaching for her wrist, he pulled her to him, whispering in her ear.

"I think we should continue this outside."

She nodded, carefully extracting her arm, taking away his advantage before walking to the door.

*

The door swung shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the party. The air outside was still, almost heavy with anticipation in the electric heat of summer. She looked up at the inky sky, several stars dotted there. They looked so close, but the rational part of her knew that they were millions of miles away. Turning her gaze away from the heavens, she looked at him and felt a wave of emotion rise. In the serenity of the shadows, nothing seemed real. She felt almost detached from reality, watching as he resumed his nervous motions, running a hand through his hair.

"I wanted to apologise for overreacting," she said calmly, relishing his sudden start. "I don't why I did, but I wanted you to know that I am happy for you."

Her voice lowered. "I'm just going to miss you."

The truth was, she did have an inkling of why she overreacted but she wasn't going to analyse it.

There were too many demons lurking in that direction.

He knew that he would be justified in demanding a better explanation, but he honestly had no inclination to do so. He didn't think that he actually wanted to know why she had overreacted; some things should be left unspoken.

He forced himself to adopt a light tone. "I'll forgive you if you promise to visit me as soon as

I'm settled."

She inhaled sharply, a flash of panic spreading over her face.

"I don't think. . . I don't think I can."

He felt the first stirrings of anger and made no attempt to quell them. "Look, if you're trying to punish me for leaving. . ."

"I'm not, Patrick," she sighed in a resigned manner. "I'm really not. It'll just be too hard. I know it sounds brutal, but. . ."

She broke off, slicing the air with her hand in a redundant motion. "Maybe. I don't know, maybe sometime, but not now. Not yet."

There was silence, a magnetic silence where she felt herself drawn to him. He spoke softly in an attempt to drown the sudden bubble of resentment.

"I'm going to miss you too, Holly. It's hard for me to leave as well, but I'm not sure whether you understand that."

He began to speak faster in an attempt to express his feelings. "I want you to visit me, but it's too hard for you, so you won't. I don't think you mean to punish me, but you are. You're making me feel guilty for taking this job. You're making me feel selfish for doing something for myself.

I can't keep having this same argument over and over again, Holly. I won't. I really don't want to lose you, but I'm not the one pulling away. I know you want to make things easier for yourself, maybe for me as well. But it doesn't work that way. You know where I am. The decision is yours."

He saw the pain flicker in her eyes, but she said nothing. He waited for a response, but still she stayed silent. Resigned, he walked away and she was left staring at the stars.

*

He stood in the cavernous station, his worldly possessions lying at his feet. He was relatively ashamed to find that he could compress his whole life into several suitcases and bags. He had never settled anywhere; life had been a series of journeys - from home, to university to medical school then to various jobs. Wakefield was just another step on the way. Still, he felt a slight pang of regret at leaving Holby, but not enough to suppress the twinge of excitement he felt about the future. In retrospect, Holly was probably right, not that this was anything unusual.

He was running away, but it wasn't for the reasons that she thought it was. Claustrophobia was beginning to set in and he felt like he was being buried alive. Staying in Holby was too safe; there wasn't that element of danger that he craved… that he knew she craved too. To his own ears, it sounded shallow and superficial, but he knew better than to underestimate the feeling when it came. It had driven him away from home and into many jobs… spur of the moment decisions that had worked out for the best.

He knew she was the same; he would place money on the notion that she had left London for Holby on impulse. However, there was one time that he regretted listening to the feeling; that was leaving medical school and her. He had not made that decision entirely on the merit of adventure, but rather more from a desire to hurt her. He didn't know whether it had worked, but knew that that was an irrelevant concern. If the truth were told, she was somewhat more than one of many girlfriends, but he had been too stupid to recognise that at the time. Then again, he was sure that he would've fucked up the relationship somehow and he much preferred being her friend now than never being able to see her again. Unfortunately, that seemed like a distinct possibility.

Lost in his thoughts, he did not hear the hesitant footsteps behind him and started when he felt a hand lightly touch his shoulder. An expression of shock suffused his face when he saw her and she smiled slightly in return.

"What are you doing here?"

She shrugged. "I wanted to say goodbye."

"I thought we…"

She shook her head. "I didn't want to leave it like that."

There was a mesmerising silence and he reached out a hand to gently cup her face. She leant into the contact, moving her hand to entwine her fingers with his.

"I'm going to miss you so much," he whispered. She smiled wanly, her eyes clouded.

He tilted her face and drew her closer until their lips met. It was a soft, tender kiss, her hand sliding to the nape of his neck and his tangling in her hair.

He felt the dampness of her tears on his face and realised that they were his as well. Gently pulling back, he swept away her tears with his thumb, stroking her cheeks as his tears continued to fall.

Their eyes met and he dropped his hand.

"Goodbye, Patrick," she murmured.

"Goodbye," he whispered back.

Then she walked away, leaving him with his luggage and a new life ahead.

End.