"I'll just be a moment, Mrs Chapman" Jack said, without looking up. “Please, take a seat”. The woman said nothing in return but did utter a slight sigh.

Jack quickly finished off the handwritten notes from the last patient. The WellBeing Clinic had a computerised medical note system but Jack preferred to write his notes by hand and then enter them into the computer at his leisure. In Jack’s case "at his leisure" equated to "only when he bloody well had to".

Looking up, Jack smiled and put on his very best 'here-to-help-you' face. Its effect was somewhat lost on Jack's worry-worn, flaccid features.

"So, Ann, how’re you today?" he asked, in his best bedside manner.

The woman did not look up but stayed gazing intently at her hands. As Jack looked closely at her, he became aware of the red rings around her eyes.

"I... I'm coping, Dr Hutchinson", Ann Chapman replied, though it was obvious to Jack that she wasn't.

"Don't worry. As we discussed last week, I'm goin’ to start your treatment today and then you'll be under my care - as well as that of your GP of course - for the next few months. Okay?".

The woman nodded. "Yes, doctor".

"Good. Now, I'm just going to move my chair a little closer to do some quick checks. Nothin’ to worry ‘bout".

Jack wheeled his chair around the desk and positioned it next to hers and close enough for him to touch her. With latex gloved hands, he ran through the usual tests he always did in these sorts of cases. To be honest, they achieved almost nothing, but gave him something meaningful to write down in those notes of his. They also sometimes helped to put the patient at rest a little.

Once done, Jack removed the glove of his right hand. Brief images of a slim blade held in a younger, bloody hand flashed in his mind as he looked at it.

"Now, Ann. I'm just going to hold yer right hand as if we were shakin’ hands” Jack explained. “I want you to try to grip my old ‘and as tightly as you can whilst, if possible, lookin’ me in the eye. Don't worry about me - you won't my hand. And I’ll not hurt yours".

Quite the opposite, thought Jack, but did not say anything more.

The woman looked unsure, but nodded and held out her slim, pale hand. Jack took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, looked into her face and reached out.

Their hands met.

After years of enduring his cursed gift, Jack was prepared for the emotional onslaught. He felt the pain, feelings and memories course their way along his arm and into his body. Within moments, he was drowning in a flood of desperate emotion which rushed in waves along his nerves and crashed into his mind.

Dear god, why me? Why my sweet poor Luke? Why was he taken from me? I can't... he was so lovely. John doesn't care. Drinks too much. All alone. Can't cope. Just want to die and be with him. Just. Leave. Me...

It had been nearly four months since the woman had lost her child and the grief was still sharp and painful. The baby boy had been born five weeks early and had been unwell since birth. He had spent just over three days in an incubator on the neo-natal ICU ward until he'd finally given up his fight for life and moved on.

Jack had read all that in the notes that her GP, an acquaintance of his, had forwarded. He had quickly come to the conclusion that, since the death of her child, Ann had hardly slept. No doubt she had cried for days over the loss and, when the tears had run dry, replaced them with a desolate grieving depression. But actually experiencing the effect of those weeks of bleakness was something entirely different.

The pain, desperation, grief, sadness, anger and every other negative emotion within the woman flowed out from her and passed into Jack, where it settled like a pool of evil sickening oil within his stomach. And just when he thought he'd sucked everything from her, more poured out. More and more and more.

A minute later, Jack let go of Ann's hand and leant back in his chair. Angry, sobbing tears streamed down his face. He turned away as Ann, the darkness of her grief temporarily banished, looked up. She had a small smile on her lips.

"Doctor... I..."

The woman faltered for a long moment, not sure what to say. Jack knew that the sudden release of negative emotions could be extremely shocking to many. And he really should help her. But right now, he had his own dark problems to worry about. He had to try and subdue the grief that threatened to overwhelm him. But he couldn't cope.

They didn’t care.
He was alone, so alone.
Why him?

Fortunately for Ann, but not so fortunate for Jack, the gift could not remove or reduce the love the woman felt for her missing child nor completely counter the loss she felt. However, she would now be able to cope with her life and live normally - at least until the dark emotions started to creep back in a week or so.

Jack, of course, would cope in his usual manner. With copious quantities of drink.

Ann began rambling something but Jack didn't hear her. He was too busy suppressing the onset of second-hand depression. Thankfully, a moment later, Mary entered and quickly bustled the woman out of Jack's room and took her somewhere else in the surgery. And whilst she was doing that, Jack dried his eyes and scrambled through his desk drawers for a large draft of medicinal aid.

Mary came back a few minutes later to check up on him.

"Are you okay Jack?" she asked, approaching his desk.

Jack sighed and shook his head. Thankfully, his eyes and nose had stopped weeping now but he still looked a pitiful sight.

"Not really” he answered. “But give me a few minutes and I'll feel as wretched as normal".

He looked up and, through reddened eyes, saw the frown crease upon his partner’s features in concern. Doctor Mary Kelly was a kind and caring woman. Small, stocky and plain-looking in a favourable light, they had met whilst they were both studying medicine. They had been friends first, then work colleagues once this practice had been set up, mostly using money Mary had inherited. They had never been lovers; they never could, even though Jack loved her dearly. And anyway, she just wasn't his type. Not many were. His dreams were filled with only six women and only one of those captured his attention.

"You really shouldn't do this any more", Mary stated, quiet and concerned. It was a point of view she had expressed many times before.

Jack sniffed and began writing down some notes.

"I have to", was his simple reply. It was his usual response to her statement.

Mary was one of only three people who actually knew about his gift. Although unaware of most of Jack’s past, he had told her about his ability to transfer the physical and mental pains of others onto himself by skin-to-skin contact. She had been amazed at first. It was she who had claimed the ability to be a wondrous gift. But over years, she had started to see it for what it was. She had questioned it and then cursed it.

Thankfully she did not know the whole story. She did not know who Jack was.

Mary finally broke the silence that had settled between them.

"I've put Mrs Chapman in the side room, to give her chance to recover. Shall I get Betty to make her an appointment for next week?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, please", he said, still absently working on the notes.

Mary was about to say something more but sighed instead. Turning away from his desk, she made her way to the door. But before she left, Jack spoke up again.

"And Mary…? Thank you" he said, a wealth of emotion and meaning buried into those two short words.

Dr Kelly’s frown turned into a smile and she nodded. She shut the door quietly behind her as she went and left Jack to grieve on his own until the next patient came along.