At the end of every road

by Giant_raccoon

Summary:

"Isn't it weird how hard we have to work to hide a platonic relationship?"

Very. But let's find out how hard it will be once those feelings are not so 'platonic' anymore.

Chapter 1: Did you say it; I love you?

Notes:

Hi, I'm back, a bit sooner than expected. I just can't help myself. I'm already so into it :D

Okay, the last fic was fun, but it was pretty angsty. This one is more about drama and idiots in love. I forced myself to rewatch the show (it still hurts too much) and I'm so caught up in my Melendaire Feels. That's good for you too :D I'm trying to write the whole thing in character as much as possible so that we all feel like it could have happened on the show. So if you find anything super OOC, let me know. If anything is really in character, let me know too, so I can work with it.

It's going to be a very long story, problably even longer chapters in the future, you know me 😏

I want to focus on the drama that could arise due to their characters/their past/traumas. Because I love my two cuties, but the show didn't give them enough background, so we know almost nothing about their personal lives. I want us to be confronted with problems that actually could have become problems. In the show, they were ultimately forced to confess their love on the deathbed, which, we can all agree, simply doesn't do them justice. I want them to find each other and navigate their relationship, even as they're constantly challenged by the problems that come with their work relationships. They'll explore what's between them and whether or not they're meant for each other (we know the answer).

I haven't planned the story as far in advance as the other one, just have a few nice ideas, and I think it could be really fun if you help me write it. So feel free to give your opinions on characters and storylines, and then we'll decide together how their story develops. I think it's going to be a really good time; our two idiots deserve it, and so do we.

Please keep the tags in mind. In some chapters, we will have a deep dive into their past, going into what they went through. If you ever feel uncomfortable while reading, please take care of yourself and don't push yourself too hard. You can always skip the hard parts ❤️‍🩹

And also, yes, there will be smut. Most of you seem to enjoy it but for those who don't - the smut chapters will problably be longer (more story too) so there is something for everyone :]

As always, my native language isn't english, so ... keep that in mind, if you find mistakes or anything :)

Let's get into it and have fun 🥰

 

---

 

"Are you planning on keeping me waiting all evening?" The voice pulled Neil out of his thoughts and forced him to look up from his tablet. He grimaced apologetically.

 

"Oh, yeah, just one more minute. I'll just finish this up real quick " He replied nonchalantly, gesturing to the documents in front of him. Aaron's mouth twitched briefly, but he nodded understandingly.

 

"I wonder if I'll live to see the day we arrive somewhere on time ..." Neil chuckled slightly, ignoring the faint pang of guilt that was creeping up on him. He leaned back in his chair and nodded to Glassman.

 

"Okay, how about you just drive ahead and I'll follow. This will take about ten, fifteen minutes tops." Aaron gave him a long, unimpressed look, but then just nodded before straightening his tie.

 

"Okay, but I'm not going to make any excuses for you this time." Neil laughed and waved his hand dismissively.

 

"I think they'll understand." Aaron nodded and waved goodbye once more before leaving and closing the door behind him. Neil sighed in dissatisfaction. Of course he'd be late. Again. This was a part of his job that always bothered him. In his personal life, he was always on time - at least as long as his work allowed it. But he knew what he was getting into; professional and personal life were almost impossible to separate, especially since he'd completed his residency. He'd once expected things to get easier - training had been tough, relentless, and had demanded every ounce of his energy and time. Things were different now, though he still felt like the hospital had become his second home.

Whoever said you should maintain a healthy work-life balance had definitely never been a surgeon. Neil was probably the last person who could have formed an opinion on the matter.

He had always made it a point to keep his professional and personal lives strictly separate, as he had been taught. And at first, that didn't seem to be a problem, until his future fiancée started working at the exact same hospital as him. And that's how quickly he had lost sight of his principles. But when Jessica broke up with him, left him when he was ready to start a family with her, he had to admit that these rules might not only be for the protection of the hospital, but also for his own. He definitely wouldn't have made the same mistake again ... well, if it hadn't been for Audrey Lim. A woman he had considered nothing more than a close friend for years, who had suddenly become something more after a drunken night that ended in his bedroom. Just another example of why work and pleasure shouldn't go hand in hand, because of course, things turned out as they had to, and they had reached a crossroads. This time, not because they wanted completely different things, but because they wanted exactly the same thing. At the same time. The same job.

And now he was sitting here, already an hour past work, busy completing files while she was living his professional dream. Unbelievable. Sometimes Neil felt like life was playing tricks on him. It was always either the wrong time, the wrong place, or the wrong person. Something never seemed right.

Maybe this was exactly what he was meant for. Many people, especially many surgeons, choose not to have children so they could concentrate fully on their work. Neil wanted children, but he simply wasn't lucky enough to; perhaps there was a deeper reason for this. That in his mid-forties, he was immersed in files every day, operating or teaching, only to return to an apartment as empty as a hotel room at the end of a long day. Maybe this was supposed to be his life. Maybe this was all he would ever be. Maybe that was the price he had to pay for this job. Or maybe it would change at some point. There were people who only found the love of their life in the final stages of their lives, so he still had plenty of time. Yeah, right.

 

Neil snorted and shook his head when he finally finished the files. Part of him was glad his shift was over; he'd been in the OR until the very end, usually a good way to end the day, but not when he and Glassman had a date. And coincidentally, on a day like this, all his residents were scheduled for other shifts, so he couldn't even hand over his dirty work to them. He glanced at his watch. Yes, he was definitely going to be late, but they wouldn't hold it against him, and if he hurried now, they'd surely turn a blind eye.

He quickly left his office and headed for the elevator. Before the door even opened, he caught a glimpse of the small figure coming to a stop next to him.

"Dr. Browne," he greeted her, giving her a slight nod, a small smile on his lips. Claire grinned, and when the doors opened, she stepped into the elevator at the same time as him.

 

"Dr. Melendez." Neil watched which button she pressed. Emergency Room. He nodded knowingly.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, their gazes forward, and for a brief moment, silence fell between them, the only sound the quiet whir of the elevator. He watched her out of the corner of his eye.

Claire - another line that had blurred, without him being able to explain how it had happened. It had never been a problem for him to keep his distance from his residents; he was friendly-ish. At least for the most part, a little fun between colleagues hadn't been a problem. But anything beyond that was a taboo for him. Such clear rules, so easy to follow.

And yet ... This thing with Claire had been different, and he didn't know why. He'd always seen something in her that she hadn't even seen herself - she was smart, special, had brought something to the profession he hadn't seen before. Still, maintaining professional boundaries hadn't been a problem. Even when it was clear that she wasn't having an easy time, he kept his distance. He'd asked her from time to time if she was okay, but it never came out beyond normal small talk. He would never have admitted it, but of course he'd been worried about her; she'd clearly been suffering, her change in behavior after her mother's death had been hard to ignore. But even then, he'd kept his distance, because that was the right thing to do. Until it wasn't anymore.

When he'd found her in the stairwell, broken by everything that had happened to her, it hadn't been right to keep his distance anymore. He'd had to be there for her, simply because. Although he felt powerless, with all the professional boundaries between them - how could he have supported her without crossing one of them? - he'd somehow found a way that soon made her feel better.

What could have been wrong with that? Listening to her and talking to her when she needed it? That he distracted her when all she could see was her dark past? Or that at some point, between their jogs and morning coffee breaks, he had suddenly felt that she had been just as much of a support to him as the other way around ... He hadn't even realized that he himself had been lonely after things were over with Audrey, until he suddenly found someone to talk to. Someone who seemed to speak his language, even when he felt like he was at a loss for words. Someone he could laugh with when he didn't even feel like smiling, someone who knew his faults and yet didn't seem to judge him ... How reprehensible could it have been that he felt comfortable with her? It wasn't ideal that he was her attending, but that was only a matter of time, he didn't see any problem with having found a friend in her, it wasn't a crossing of boundaries. Not yet.

 

"You're leaving early today? No overtime?" she asked skeptically. Neil chuckled and shrugged.

 

"Some of us don't live here at the hospital, you know?" he countered, knowing full well that she knew as well as he did that it was out of character for him to leave the hospital while it was still daytime. Accordingly, Claire raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly as she looked up at him.

 

"That might sound more believable if it didn't come from you." Neil rolled his eyes slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

 

"If you really have to know, I'm already running late." Claire nodded.

 

"Sounds more like it." Neil swallowed a cheeky comment as the doors opened and they stepped outside simultaneously. He hadn't actually planned on going through the emergency room, as his car was parked right by the other exit and he was already running late, but his body had taken over and was now walking slowly beside her without him even noticing.

"Where are you going?" she finally asked, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. Neil raised an eyebrow. "You say you're late. What are you doing today?" He noticed her slowing down and getting a tablet from the nurses' station, but her gaze never left him.

 

"Aaron and I are going to the cancer fundraiser at the brewery." Claire tilted her head in surprise before shaking it.

 

"Wait, that was today?" Neil chuckled softly before rolling his eyes.

 

"Maybe you should leave the hospital sometime soon; it might do you some good." A small smile crept onto Claire's lips before she fixed her gaze on the tablet.

A strange feeling spread through Neil, one he couldn't quite place, or rather, he didn't want to. That slight tingling in his stomach was more than painfully familiar, especially in the last few weeks. The warmth that spread through his body when he was alone with her, or when she laughed at his jokes. But it surely meant nothing, especially not when she looked at him like she was now, with a slightly raised eyebrow and an expectant look.

 

"I'm not the one who's late to a charity event." Neil bit his tongue as he saw her eyes flash. He loved how much she'd opened up to him, how easy it was for her to counter him these days. She was always fun to talk to, much more than she should have been. He shook his head, shaking off that thought.

 

"You got me," he murmured, averting his gaze as if by reflex. Ever since the favorites complaint was filed against them, Neil felt like every time he talked to her, he was doing something forbidden. He almost expected the disapproving looks from others, the whispering, the unwanted attention. As he scanned the ER, he noticed that there wasn't much going on. Park was setting up an IV for a patient, Shaun was busy stitching a wound, and a few nurses were chatting over coffee. No one paid them any attention. His body involuntarily relaxed, and he let a small breath escape his lungs.

 

"You're on ER duty today?" Claire nodded and leaned back.

 

"Jealous?" she asked, and Neil shook his head with a smile as he looked at his watch and grimaced.

 

"Looks like it's going to be a quiet night, so I guess I'll have to have some fun for both of us." He said, nodding toward the door, as he slowly started to move in this direction. Claire groaned in annoyance, and Neil couldn't help but turn back to her.

 

"You had to say that, huh?" Neil raised an eyebrow. "You've jinxed us." Neil snorted and shook his head before turning around. He glanced over his shoulder at her.

 

"You'll survive," he called out in farewell, moving briskly toward the exit. He felt her gaze on the back of his neck and smiled slightly, knowing she'd already have another saying on her lips.

 

"Try not to miss this place too much." He chuckled.

 

"Can't promise anything." The smile didn't leave his lips until he'd gotten into his car. A small part of him was relieved at how easy it had been to talk to Claire. He didn't know why he'd expected it to be awkward, or maybe he didn't want to admit it.

Things had already been awkward between them, and even though neither of them had brought it up again, he felt like she'd been avoiding him the last few days. She hadn't been distant, just ... different. He wasn't sure what to make of it, or whether to bring it up again. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable, and especially because of him. He hadn't really meant anything to it, hadn't planned on saying what he'd said. But before he could stop himself, the words had already left his mouth.

Being around you makes me a better surgeon, because it was true. Claire had challenged him again and again over the past few years, made him believe in things that seemed impossible, and pushed him to give his all. They had complemented each other in the operating room, and it had helped him push himself beyond his limits and save lives that would have been lost if they hadn't been a team. She certainly saw it the same way, because she had grown just as much as he had. But it was more than that.

She made him a better person. Because of her, he questioned his decisions; because of her, he saw more than just the big picture; he saw all the little things that made up that picture. And not only that, he wanted to be better, the best version of himself. Only when he said it out loud and saw the look in her eyes had he understood the weight of those words. Suddenly, all the feelings he'd tried to suppress over the past few months made sense. If he'd been honest, he would have admitted it to himself ages ago. Or maybe he already had, but couldn't allow it.

Because Claire wasn't just a line that shouldn't be crossed, she was something he knew there would be no turning back from if he went down that path. And he couldn't. For once, he had to stand his ground, couldn't give in to what he felt whenever she looked at him. It wasn't right. While he didn't regret letting things get this far with her, he knew it couldn't go any further. It shouldn't. So it was okay. No crossing the line. Friends. This was more than enough.

 

****

 

The brewery was quite busy when Neil arrived. He scanned the crowd, looking for Glassman or the others, but the amount of people made it almost impossible to find anyone, so he decided to just go to the bar and get the overview from there. It was a nice place, Neil realized, and he could see himself coming here more often in the future, even if it wasn't exactly on his way. He smiled as he thought about how much it had taken for him to be standing here today, for this place to even exist.

"The man we've been waiting for," he heard a friendly voice call out as he got his drink. He turned around and looked into the face of Marta, grinning from ear to ear. Neil laughed when he saw Glassman in the corner of his eye, also smiling slightly.

 

"Marta, it's so good to see you." Neil greeted her, and before he knew it, he found himself in a warm embrace. A gentle feeling settled in his chest, a feeling of joy that spread throughout his body. When she pulled away, she was still grinning, and Aaron had an arm around her shoulder. Only then did Neil notice the woman standing next to Marta.

 

"Noreen, I'm sure you remember Dr. Melendez," she said, gesturing toward Neil. Noreen smiled broadly as she extended her hand toward him.

 

"I never forget a pretty face," she said with a wink, and Neil gave a puzzled laugh before she added, "Maybe it helped that you saved my wife's life. It'll be one of the two." The group burst out laughing, and Neil shook her hand cheerfully.

 

"Whatever it is, it was my pleasure. " He countered, which only made the two of them laugh even more. They shared a moment of reminiscing when Marta began to tell them in detail about a story that had happened to her in the hospital, but which Noreen still didn't believe. Glassman intervened and assured them that it had happened exactly as he had witnessed it. They laughed and chatted for a few minutes before Noreen and Marta excused themselves for a moment to talk to other guests.

Neil and Glassman were discussing a case Neil had worked on today, and the time flew by. It was rare that Neil had such a relaxing afternoon - surrounded by friends or cheerful strangers, with good music and a fine drink in his hand. Only now did he realize how good it was for him to be able to completely switch off. It wasn't that he was suffocated by all the work, but even when he had free time, he rarely found the opportunity to enjoy it. There were afternoons spent jogging with Claire in the park, evenings spent at the bar with Audrey, or occasional baseball games with Glassman, but he still felt restless.

He let his gaze wander through the crowd, saw couples laughing together or having animated conversations, and a small part of him twitched. It wasn't that he couldn't be alone, even though he'd thought that for a long time; he'd never been single for very long in his life, but less because he couldn't be, and more because he didn't want to be. He'd been in long-term relationships his whole life, and even though it certainly would have been healthier to be alone for a while afterward, he'd always found someone who seemed to fill the void in his heart quickly. After the whole thing with Audrey, which had only worked out well enough by sheer luck that they could at least still be friends, he'd realized that it was actually better to take time for himself after a breakup. And he'd taken it.

It was okay. He had his job, his colleagues. But on evenings like these, when he knew he'd be returning to his apartment alone, it suddenly wasn't so easy. His happiness wasn't really dependent on a relationship, but he couldn't deny that he was meant to be a part of someone. He'd always needed someone to complement him, to make him ... better. Neil grimaced almost imperceptibly as his thoughts drifted in that direction and he took a long sip of his drink.

Before he could stop himself, she resurfaced in his mind. He wondered how her evening had been. Maybe she'd been right - maybe he really had jinxed them, and now she was buried in consultation hours. Maybe she was running around the emergency room, typical Claire - hectic but precise. Or maybe it was just a quiet evening, as he'd expected. He pictured her sitting at her desk, tapping a pen on her clipboard, rolling her eyes at Morgan's comment.

And for some reason, the thought of being there with her, doing nothing, just being in the same room, was more appealing than standing in a crowded brewery with a drink in hand. The realization was quiet but persistent. He had a great time. He was happy that his former patients were okay, grateful for the opportunity to see each other again. But if he'd still been in the hospital, still stuck in the emergency room, on a quiet night, sitting next to Claire while they waited for something to happen ... he knew he wouldn't have minded.

If he'd been honest, he certainly would have enjoyed it.

 

"Are you having fun?" Marta asked as she stopped in front of him again, breaking his thoughts. Neil stared at her, perplexed, for a brief moment before he got his features under control and nodded.

 

"This place is truly amazing. You've done a great job here, Marta." She nodded contentedly, gazing around the room, a gentle smile on her lips.

 

"I'm ... grateful. That I have the opportunity to experience all of this. That I can give something back." Their eyes met and her features softened. Neil smiled.

 

"If anyone deserves it, it's you two. You've been through so much." Marta nodded, her expression darkening slightly, but then her eyes sparkled as she leaned closer to him.

 

"One and a half years of remission," she began, crossing her fingers. "Let's hope for many more." Neil said nothing but nodded and smiled before sipping his drink. It gave him a warm feeling of peace to see her like this.

She had been one of the patients who hadn't left him alone, even when she was still in the hospital. He had taken her files home with him every night when he went home, and hadn't slept at all until he found something that helped her. When they had successfully completed the last surgery, Noreen and Marta had promised him that one day he would stand in a brewery they had built from scratch. As he let his gaze wander, it filled him with melancholy and pride. With a sense of hope that nothing was impossible, even if it seemed so. That there was always a way, even if it seemed hopeless.

"Without you, this wouldn't have been possible, you know?" she asked, giving him a warm look. He smiled and shook his head.

 

"I just cut you open and patched you back together. The rest was you." Marta raised her eyebrow, an amused smile playing on her lips.

 

"So humble? Who are you, and what did you do to Dr. Melendez?" Neil mock-rolled his eyes and took a sip from his glass, watching as her gaze landed on Noreen, who was chatting with some guests at the end of the room.

"I don't know what I would have done without her," she said absentmindedly, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "I don't know how she managed it all either. She gave me so much strength, even though she was so scared herself. She never let me give up." Neil nodded, remembering Noreen sitting by her bedside, taking notes on everything the doctors had told her that she didn't understand herself. She asked endless questions, threw ideas into the room, and was just there. And when Marta had needed it, she'd always had a joke on her lips, as if the whole thing didn't even bother her, even though it had shown on her face every time they came back with bad news.

 

"I know. She was incredible, she surprised us all with her strength." He said gently before nodding in Marta's direction. "You too, by the way." Marta turned to him and gave him a warm smile, and for a brief moment they let the silence fall between them, remembering everything that had happened. Everything that had to go right for them to be standing here side by side. Marta was the first to look away, but she was still smiling.

 

"We all need a support system. During illness and afterward. Great things can come from that," she said, her voice filled with pride and warmth. Neil tensed his jaw, trying not to be drawn back into the thoughts he'd just fought his way out of. The slight sigh that escaped his lips seemed to betray him, because Marta turned around and gave him an intense look. Too intense. Her eyes fell on his hand, which was wrapped around his glass, and for a brief moment she said nothing. Neil could see that her mind was working, but he said nothing. Her gaze met his, the emotions in it difficult to read.

"Where's your ring?" she finally asked, and Neil felt the muscles in his body tense.

 

"Excuse me?" She nodded to his hand.

 

"Shouldn't you be married by now? Where's the ring?" Neil gritted his teeth. Glassman, who had been talking to one of the guests a moment ago, glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Almost reflexively, Neil also let his gaze wander down to his fingers, to the place where the ring would have been if it had existed. His stomach clenched at the memories he associated with that time.

When Marta was admitted to the hospital, he was already engaged to Jessica. As soon as she was discharged, she had invited them to dinner, and they had spent a lovely evening together. Neil remembered it as if it were yesterday. How happily Jessica had talked about wedding planning, finally free of the worries she associated with the wedding because of her parents. They had talked for hours about what the best time of year would be or which band was most in demand. He remembered Jessica's smile, the feeling she had given him back then. Family. He grimaced.

 

"Unfortunately, there never was a wedding." He finally answered, glad that his voice was more neutral than the feelings he was experiencing. Marta's eyes widened in shock. For a moment, she said nothing, stared at him, and shook her head.

 

"I ... oh, I'm so sorry." She finally began, and Neil nodded, the weight of this conversation settling almost immediately on his shoulders. It wasn't that he couldn't talk about Jessica and what had happened. It had become a part of him, and he'd already processed it, but since the breakup, he hadn't met anyone from his past who hadn't been aware of it, and in a way ... it made it more real in that moment. It reopened the wound of their split.

"What ... happened? You two were made for each other," she asked cautiously, and Neil sucked in a sharp breath. Glassman had now turned fully toward them, his gaze gentle yet curious. Neil shrugged his shoulders, trying to ease the weight, or to take the meaning out of his words, he wasn't sure.

 

"We just wanted different things. It wasn't easy, but it was the right thing to do." He said casually, and her expression softened slightly, causing his muscles to relax as well. Neil smiled slightly, but it disappeared almost immediately when Marta began to grin.

 

"But I hope you have a woman by your side by now. Do you?" Neil took a moment to answer, Aaron's gaze still piercing him.

 

"Focused on work at the moment." Aaron's mouth twitched almost involuntarily, and Neil almost expected him to bring up the Audrey story again. To his relief, he didn't, but Marta raised an eyebrow.

 

"You always are." Neil nodded in agreement, but looked away, a smile on his lips that he was sure came across as insincere as it felt. "A man like you can't be single, it's such a waste." Neil snorted, but before he could reply, Noreen appeared and put her arm around her wife's shoulder.

 

"Single? Who?" Neil rolled his eyes before Marta even pointed at him. Aaron chuckled and caught a warning look from Neil that seemed to amuse him even more.

"Dr. Melendez? Oh, we can't have that," she exclaimed displeased, scanning the room. "We have a lot of beautiful single women here today. If you want, I can introduce you to some." Marta and Noreen were already lost in discussions about which woman would be the most suitable for Neil, and he felt his jaw tense. Out of reflex, or perhaps out of curiosity, he also let his gaze wander, looking for nothing in particular. He saw many different faces, beautiful eyes, genuinely smiling mouths. He sighed.

 

"I appreciate it. But I'm fine." He said simply, earning a few skeptical glances from the others that almost made him laugh.

 

"Dr. Melendez! You're such a good catch. We can't take no for an answer," Marta joked, but her voice sounded more serious than he would have liked. Neil rolled his eyes.

 

"Tonight isn't about me. It's about you and what you've accomplished. Let's focus on that." Marta raised her hands defensively and nodded.

 

"Okay, okay." Neil released a breath of relief he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. But then he saw the look in Noreen's eyes, and his muscles involuntarily tensed again.

 

"Or is there someone already?" Aaron's gaze landed immediately on him, as if expecting something, as if he suspected something.

 

"He said he's single," Marta replied, but Noreen nodded.

 

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean there isn't a woman in his life ..." Neil's heart rate quickened slightly, his teeth clenched. Why did he feel this way? He had nothing to hide. It wasn't like that time with Audrey, when he'd snuck around the hospital with her like a couple of reckless teenagers. There was nothing inappropriate in his life, even though it felt that way at that moment. Finally taking pity on him, Glassman placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded toward the others.

 

"What does an old man have to do for an exclusive tour of the brewery?" he asked charmingly, and Neil sighed with relief. Noreen gave him another quick glance before nodding in satisfaction.

 

"Gentlemen? After you." She said, gesturing invitingly to the left. They followed her with a slight smile.

Neil didn't want to admit it, but he was glad he didn't have to explain himself any further. He felt like he'd had to explain himself and his relationships a lot lately. Audrey simply hadn't wanted to believe him when he tried to make it clear to her that there was nothing but friendship between him and Claire. He was aware that he'd put himself in this situation - after all, he'd never interfered in his residents' lives before - but he didn't understand the problem. It was different just because he was a man and Claire was a woman.

During his training under Glassman, no one had reproached him, even though one could have assumed that their private lives would get in the way of professional work. Sure, they hadn't been as close friends as he and Claire were now, but private meetings had never been missed because of Jessica. Glassman had been like a second father to her, as she had been close friends with his daughter. It would have been only natural that Glassman would have been accused in the same way as Neil was now. But that had never been the case. But he didn't know why he had to think about Claire at this moment just because he was asked if he had a woman in his life. Well, he did know, but it didn't make things any easier.

He exhaled as he followed Noreen's lead. She was talking at length about how successful today's fundraiser had already been and what hopes they had for the future of cancer research. Neil didn't know whether to feel sorry for her or envy her. It was clear to see how much Marta's illness had affected her, but the way she talked about it now was fascinating. So much strength she had drawn from the love she shared with her.

"You wouldn't believe how difficult it was to get the license here. You'd think the professional experience would come in handy, but well ..." At that moment, her phone rang. "Oh, of course. Excuse me for a moment, go on ahead. This is the most exciting part," she said, giving them a warm look before pulling the phone out of her pocket and walking past them. Neil and Aaron did as they were instructed and fell into a pleasant conversation about the first time they'd gone out for drinks together, and soon they were deep in reminiscing.

Neil raised his glass to take a sip when he stopped. The drink spilled over and ran down his hand. He gave Glassman a skeptical look, who tilted his head. The next moment, they heard a loud crack, the floor began to shake.

 

"Oh God," Glassman murmured, holding onto the wall. And then it fell silent. They looked at each other for a moment without saying anything, Neil's heart pounding against his chest. It was definitely not their first earthquake together; small tremors were common in San José, though no one seemed to have expected one tonight. Glassman's face softened, and he sighed with relief.

"Okay, I think that's it." But before he could even say it, the walls shook again, much more violently than before, and suddenly Neil felt the floor between them tear apart.

"Careful!" he heard Aaron shout before he was hit on the head and fell to the ground.

 

****

 

"Of course he's jinxed us," Claire muttered as she threw away her half-empty coffee cup and sighed as she joined the others who had already gathered around Audrey. While she didn't generally mind making her shift a little more exciting, she had hoped for an exciting operation rather than an earthquake. It was only her second earthquake since moving to San José, but she had almost no memory of the first one. It was only a small one, so small that she probably wouldn't have even noticed it if her water bottle hadn't rolled off the table.

But this seemed to be different. They themselves had barely felt any effect; for a moment the floor had shaken, but then it had gone quiet again, the only damage being the picture that had fallen off the wall in the emergency room, a picture that Claire had always been upset about anyway. So she didn't expect it to have any devastating consequences, but when she looked into Dr. Lim's face, her stomach sank.

She had gathered them all in the emergency room, her expression serious, her posture tense. This was going to be serious. Claire immediately went on alert and pushed past a few nurses to get a better view.

 

"... we only have a magnitude of 5.4, but not the whole city was so lucky. So I'm going to split you into teams, and anyone we can spare from the hospital today will be needed on site." She began, her voice clear and focused, but there was concern in her eyes. Claire noticed the slight swallow that interrupted her flow. Tension spread through her.

"The epicenter was near the east side of the city. The worst structural damage is reported in the industrial district and -" Shaun stepped forward, his hands clasped, his gaze fixed on Audrey.

 

"That's where the charity event is. The one Dr. Glassman and Dr. Melendez are at." Claire's gaze flickered to him, not understanding the words he was saying. It made no sense ... but Audrey nodded.

 

"I've already tried contacting them, but the signal isn't going through. I can't say for sure yet." Claire saw the slightest movement in Shaun's face, but she knew he was panicking; she saw it in the way he clasped his hands even tighter, so tight they turned white. In the way he shifted his weight restlessly from left to right. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay still, to keep her face neutral, to not react. But her stomach twisted violently, her mind already racing through every worst-case scenario.

 

"They're most likely injured," Shaun said, and Audrey nodded.

 

"We don't know anything for sure. Go and prepare yourselves. We're leaving in five minutes." Audrey took a brief moment to catch her breath before turning away. Claire knew what she had to do; they'd practiced this emergency countless times, they'd responded to a disaster many times before; she knew what to do. And yet she couldn't move when everyone around her was already in work mode. She felt her heart pressing painfully hard against her chest, her mind racing without being able to think clearly. They're most likely injured.

Claire sighed heavily and looked up, watching Shaun, who was still standing rooted to the spot. Normally, he would have been the first one out of the ambulance, almost unfazed by all the drama around him. But not now, not with Glassman out there. She took a small step toward him, cautiously, knowing that in his current situation, too much proximity would only make him more anxious.

 

"Shaun ... come on, let's get our stuff." She tried gently, but wasn't sure if he'd even heard her. He tilted his head slightly.

 

"People die in earthquakes. Buildings collapse. Crush injuries. Internal bleeding. Head trauma. There is a 32.5% chance of fatality in structural collapses of this magnitude." His voice was clipped, almost detached, but Claire knew better. She saw the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darted back and forth, searching for data he couldn't find. Claire waited, gave him space, watching as he slowly tipped his fingers against his palm - one, two, three, four.

Repeating. Re-centering.

 

"Look, Shaun. I know you're scared, I am too. But I'm sure he'll be okay." She said, probably more to herself than to him. "We don't know anything yet. Yes, maybe he's hurt, maybe he's okay. But we'll have to find out first, right?" With these words, he turned slightly in her direction, not looking directly at her, but she sensed that he had heard her. His gaze became almost expectant and she nodded. "So we get ready so we can leave. And then we'll see. Okay?" He said nothing for a long moment before he turned around and disappeared. Claire watched him walk towards the storerooms. Good.

As she followed him, her legs felt heavy, her breathing shortened, heat surged through her entire body. She panicked.

You're fine. You're fine. You're fine. She repeated it like a mantra in her head. But that wasn't the problem; she was fine. But many others weren't. Maybe Neil wasn't. Her heart was beating faster as she reached the storeroom and rummaged through the boxes, trying to remember what to pack. They had emergency kits in the ambulance; what else was needed? She knew what she had to do, she needed to know, but she couldn't remember.

The worst-case scenarios kept looping, unrelenting. She had seen buildings collapse before on TV, had seen the way disaster tore through people’s lives in an instant. She knew how bad it could be.

Had he been inside when it happened? Had he gotten out? Was he hurt? Was he -

Stop.

She squeezed her eyes shut for half a second before forcing them open again.

He’s fine.

He had to be fine.

Neil Melendez was the most capable person she knew. He could handle anything. He would walk out of that wreckage with some sarcastic remark, a barely-there smirk, like he was already brushing it off.

Her breathing calmed a little, but her head was spinning. She'd been talking to him earlier, joking around like they always did when they saw each other. She'd seen him leave, like always. It couldn't be that ... but it was always like that.

One moment they were there, the next they weren't. There was never a real goodbye, it was always a cold cut. There … gone. Claire had witnessed it so many times; it seemed like an old, familiar movie on repeat. It was happening again. And she couldn't stop it, no matter how much she wished she could turn back time, somehow prevent him from leaving, she couldn't. She was useless.

 

"Are you okay?" Morgan asked, pushing herself into the small room with her, her voice less empathetic than would have been appropriate in such a situation. Claire didn't say anything for a moment; she was spiraling. She couldn't think straight anymore.

 

"Fine." She answered simply, the word as meaningless as it was unbelievable. She didn't look up, but she felt Morgan's piercing gaze on her skin.

 

"Oh really? Then why are you shaking so much?" Claire furrowed her eyebrows and gave her a questioning look. Morgan nodded in the direction of her hands. Claire looked at them, uncontrollably, trembling. She hadn't even noticed. She sighed and clenched her hands into fists, so tight her nails dug through her skin. It gave her a little reassurance. She shook her head and turned back to the shelf, less to seriously look for something, more to avoid Morgan's gaze.

 

"There's been a natural disaster, Morgan," she said, relieved that her voice had calmed down a bit. She didn't know why Morgan had to make this so difficult for her now. There was no reason to justify herself to her. Morgan tilted his head.

 

"I didn't know this would upset you so much." Her voice was a little warmer, but Claire hadn't missed the undertone, always looking for answers, always expecting Claire to give her a reason to put her down again.

 

"It's called empathy, Morgan. You should try it sometime." She ended the talk and grabbed the first thing she found on the shelf before turning and leaving. Looking down at her hands, she realized she'd grabbed a box of tampons. Claire almost laughed, the situation seemed so absurd. Of all the things she could have grabbed, this was the one thing that was absolutely no help. She shook her head, set the box down on the nearest surface she found, and quickly walked over to the others who were already waiting for her.

Audrey was already sitting next to the ambulance driver, radio in hand, consulting with other doctors who were also making their way there.

Claire slumped into the back seat and closed the doors, and immediately the ambulance drove off.

 

She exhaled heavily. She felt sick. There was nothing worse than uncertainty.

She had been at the hospital, away from the epicenter, but Neil and Glassman had been at the brewery. The brewery. The words echoed in her head like a dull thud.

Were they okay? Claire shut her eyes, forcing the panic down before it swallowed her whole. Her heart pounded, a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She needed to stay calm. Panic wouldn’t help them. But God, she hated not knowing. The uncertainty gnawed at her, every second stretching unbearably long.

Her fingers dug into her scrubs, knuckles white. She tried to convince herself that they had made it out. Neil was steady under pressure, and Glassman had survived worse. But that didn’t stop the fear clawing at her ribs, making it hard to breathe. She wasn’t ready to lose them. She had already lost too much. Her mother. Her best friend. Pieces of herself that she wasn’t sure she’d ever get back.

The thought of Neil, his sharp wit, the way his gaze lingered when he thought no one noticed - being buried under rubble was unbearable. She couldn’t think about that right now. Couldn’t think about what it would mean to lose him. Couldn’t think about the strange, unspoken thing that had been growing between them, the tension neither of them dared to name.

Glassman had been like a mentor, a quiet but steady presence. The idea of walking into the hospital without them made her stomach twist. But Glassman had fought through cancer, had survived Shaun’s worst days, had weathered every storm life had thrown at him.

They had to be okay. And she had to focus.

Claire opened her eyes again. We don’t know anything yet. A heavy breath left her lungs.

Shaun sat next to her, almost hunched over, his pose stiff, his face expressionless, but his jaw tense. She wanted to reach out to him, hold his hand, tell him that everything would be okay, just as she would have wanted him to do. But she didn't; that would only make things worse.

Alex sat across from her, phone in hand, constantly refreshing all the news sites. Pointless. He knew as well as she did, that nothing would prepare them for what they would find when they got there. She closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose, exhaling through her mouth. The people around her gave her a certain sense of security; there was no one who could have sat next to her that would make her feel more safe. But someone was missing.

She wouldn't admit it, but a small part of her had grown used to what he rediated: control, strength, stability. With him by her side, she'd always had the naive feeling that nothing bad could happen, and even if it did, they'd fix it. But now he was gone, and it was as if the whole world was falling apart and nothing could stop it. Claire sighed.

She even missed his aftershave, which had always been the same over the years. At a Christmas party, Audrey and Glassman had once joked around and given him a bottle each. Claire liked it, she always had. It was comforting and familiar now. The smell alone had always helped her calm down, because it was him. She sighed again, this time so loudly that Alex looked up for a brief moment and watched her. She didn't know if he could read her expression, but even if he did, he was so decent, he ignored it. Unlike Morgan, he didn't exert any pressure. He was just there.

She stared at the wall, breathing in, breathing out. The only sound was the loud siren they were driving with and Audrey's frantic chatter in the front seat. Claire heard the desperation in her voice, and it made her stomach turn.

They would be there any minute. And then they'd know more. He would be okay. He simply had to be okay.

 

---

 

 

Notes:

We're starting the FF just as relaxed as the show, great. We all need a little drama, but don't worry, I'm not David, I can handle their dynamics ;)

Feel free to leave some feedback. This was just the intro, but let me know what you'd like to see in the story. See you next week!

Chapter 2: Because there might be no tomorrow

 

---

 

The sun beats down on the small backyard, the dry earth cracked and uneven beneath Neil’s scraped knees. He wants to cry, but he won’t. Not in front of his father. The hammer slipped, the wooden handle slick with sweat, and now his hand throbs, the skin around his thumb already swelling. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood, but he hadn’t been able to stop the sound, the small gasp of pain, before it slipped out.

And his father had heard it.

That’s why he’s standing over him now, arms crossed, the sharp line of his jaw even harder than usual.

"Otra vez." (Again.)

Neil swallows, glancing down at his hand. It’s shaking. His father doesn’t move to check if he’s okay, doesn’t offer comfort. He’s waiting. Neil doesn’t move fast enough.

His father crouches down, voice low, edged in quiet disappointment. "Crees que en la vida te van a dar un descanso porque te duele algo?" (You think life is going to give you a break just because you’re hurting?)

Neil says nothing. He knows better than to answer.

His father exhales sharply through his nose. "El mundo no se va a detener por ti, hijo. No puedes darte el lujo de quedarte en el suelo." (The world isn’t going to stop for you, hijo. You can’t afford to stay on the ground.)

Neil nods quickly, even though his throat feels tight. He reaches for the hammer again, forces himself not to hesitate even as his fingers sting.

He won’t make a sound this time.

His father watches closely, eyes dark, unreadable. Not cruel, just expecting more. More than a seven-year-old boy can probably give. But Neil lifts the hammer, steadies the nail, and this time, when he swings - he hits the mark.

It isn’t perfect. The nail bends slightly. But his father gives a small, sharp nod. Not praise. Not kindness. Just acknowledgment.

"Otra vez."

And Neil keeps going.

Later Neil lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, his hand still aching. His mother saw the bruise when he came inside, clicked her tongue in disapproval but said nothing to his father. She simply pressed ice against it and muttered, "Siempre igual." (Always the same.)

Neil had wanted to tell her that it wasn’t bad, that he was fine. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him.

He grips his blanket tightly, willing the pain away. His father never says it outright, but Neil understands: Weakness is unacceptable. Losing control is worse.

So he learns.

He learns to keep his face blank, even when he wants to wince. He learns to never show how bad he's hurting. He learns that control is the only thing keeping him from disappointment, from failure.

And above all, he learns that no one is going to pull him up when he falls.

He has to do it himself.

 

***

 

Darkness. Nothing. Then there was a sound. Loud. Sharp. What happend? More darkness. Was he dead?

The dull feeling in his hands returned first. Where were his fingers? He stretched them - they were still there. Then the loud pounding of his heart.

Pound, Pound, Pound.

And then pain, hot, stabbing pain. His head? His stomach? Pain everywhere. Where was he?

His mind grasped at fragments, trying to put the pieces together. The brewery. The earthquake. The floor splitting beneath his feet. The sharp, blinding crack of something striking his temple.

Then nothing.

His pulse slammed in his ears as he forced his eyes open. Darkness. No, shadows. Shapes shifting through the dust. Everything was blurry, unclear. Neil squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again. Shapes, colors, it was there again. Chaos. He couldn't even tell exactly where he was, where the floor ended and the walls began. Somewhere in the distance, a voice was screaming, but it sounded warped, muffled, like he was underwater. His own breath was too loud, ragged and uneven. He was on the ground.

Was he trapped?

He forced his head to lift, his eyes scanning the surroundings. Stones everywhere that had been a brewery just moments ago. Neil tried to turn, but couldn't. He turned his head - squashed. Panic spread through him. He had been crushed. Could he still feel his legs? How badly was he injured?

Survival mode.

One breath. Then another. His vision steadied. His mind sharpened. One step at a time. He focused on his legs; he could still feel them - good. Turning his body, he looked around. The piles of rubble hadn't completely crushed him, if he could shift his weight a little - yes, just like that. He moved slowly, knowing he wouldn't realize the true extent of his injuries yet. A heavy breath was forced from his lungs as he crawled out from under the rubble. Nothing broken, everything still attached. So far, so good. He was fine. All right. Then his mind began to race. Aaron, Marta, the others ... all the guests ... how badly had the brewery section been hit?

"Aaron?" Neil called, but he wasn't sure if there was a response. His pulse was still too loud in his ears, the rest a faint roar. "Aaron, can you hear me?" Nothing. He pressed his hand against the wall, inhaling, exhaling.

You have to get up, you can't afford to stay down. You're needed. With all the strength he could muster, he pulled himself up. A stabbing pain in his head. As if by reflex, he raised his hand - blood. Not serious, that was to be expected, surely only superficial. He put one leg in front of the other. Dull pressure in his stomach, or his ribs? Maybe something broken, maybe internal injuries. He grimaced. Only superficial.

He had to do something, had to check on the others. Support, they needed support. Help. Neil reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen was shattered, but it unlocked.

7 missed calls. Audrey Lim.

That's good, the team is on their way. They'll be here soon.

The edges of the screen blurred - no, not the screen. His vision. Everything was blurry. He closed his eyes, let himself fall back against the wall. He had to focus; his team wasn't there yet, and he was still on his own. He had to act. His team ... how badly had the hospital been hit? Was anyone injured? His thoughts were chaotic, images flashed through his mind, pain-distorted pale faces. Andrews, Park, Murphy, Claire ... Claire. As if by reflex, he opened his eyes again. No time, not important, concentrate. Help.

A muffled gasp beside him. Glassman. He couldn't afford to be unwell. He had to function; he was a doctor. And he was needed.

 

****

 

They were almost there, the sirens were getting louder, multiplying. This was going to be bad. The atmosphere in the ambulance was suffocating, far too quiet for the chaos outside. Claire felt the tension in the others as if it were her own. She wondered if she was having the same thoughts as them. Aaron and Neil were an important part of the hospital, their ... family. None of them could have endurded it to see one of them injured, or worse.

"They might be dead." Shaun said, his voice a hot slash through the silence in the ambulance. Claire flinched. Not because of the words, but because of how flatly he said them. As if it was a fact, he had already forced himself to accept.

 

"Shaun ..." she began, but her voice had already given up. He was right. Claire knew there was a good chance there were deaths, even on their own side. She shook her head. "We don't know - "

 

"We don't know, so it might as well be that we don't know they're already dead." Claire sighed and rolled her eyes before turning away from Shaun, leaning her head back against the wall, and waiting. It was no use; she wouldn't be able to convince him, especially not when she didn't know what had happened herself. They were almost there anyway.

As if on cue, the car stopped. Alex and Claire looked forward to Audrey. She was already getting out. Without a second thought, they opened the doors and got out as well.

She had been right - nothing could have prepared them for what awaited them when they got there. Claire had never been here before, but she was sure she wouldn't have recognized this place even if she had been. She wasn't even sure which of the buildings was the brewery. It was unrecognizable, half the building collapsed, its skeletal remains silhouetted against the emergency lights. Dust and smoke clung to the air, stinging her eyes. Chaos everywhere, people sitting on the rubble that had been standing upright until recently. A scream in the distance, a faint cry. Countless Ambulances. Claire coughed, the air thick with ash and dust. Paramedics shouting to each other, pulling people from the rubble, panic in people's eyes. Claire's heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst out of her chest. She'd helped with many disasters, but never like this. Mostly they were car accidents - caused by humans. But this … this was nature, with all the strength it could muster.

 

"Okay, you know how it works. You have your radios, so we'll stay in touch. You help where you can, but only without putting yourselves in danger. We don't need heroes today, we need skilled doctors. Alive." The others nodded as Audrey organized the chaos, as if even she didn't know where to begin. It would have been too much for anyone. And then, as if on a signal that hadn't been there, they began to move, fanning out, ready to do their job.

Claire moved through the chaos on instinct, her training kicking in, but her eyes kept scanning, searching. Her heart pounded in her ears, her pulse too fast, too uneven. She barely registered the shouts around her, the cries of the injured, the blaring sirens. She knew why she was here, she knew she had to help everyone who needed her. But she couldn't focus. Her gaze wandered over the injured, over rubble, over ... black bags. Her heart clenched; there were already too many victims. She had to move on.

Where is he?

He had to be around here somewhere. At that moment, she almost didn't care how she found him, as long as she finally had some certainty.

Her shoes crunched against shattered glass as she moved deeper into the wreckage, reminding her how dangerous this place had become. Suddenly, she stopped dead. Glassman. He was alive. She let a breath escape her lungs, relief spreading through her. He was already busy calming Shaun, who had finally found him and was now taking out all his tension on him. Aaron was pale; even from a distance, she could see that he was injured. He was holding his arm, a unnatural position, almost painfully twisted. She wanted to go to him, ask him what he had seen, if he had seen Neil anywhere. But her body didn't move, her legs rooted to the ground.

 

"Move!" shouted a paramedic, pushing past her and pulling her out of the trance. She hated herself for not functioning now, now when it mattered. She shook her head and exhaled heavily before forcing herself to move. Her steps were heavy, but they were there. She walked deeper into the chaos, climbing over a beam that had fallen over. When she looked up, her heart skipped a beat. There he was. He was leaning over an injured woman, stitching a wound on her arm. His sleeves were rolled up, his hands steady despite the destruction around him. He was almost as usual, controlled, focused. But Claire didn’t see any of that first. She saw the blood trailing from his temple. She saw the way he swayed slightly when he shifted his weight. She saw the exhaustion in his posture, the stiffness in his movements. He was hurt. But he was alive. Claire couldn’t place the emotions that were rising within her - relief, fear, worry, joy to see him. Without giving it another thought, she moved quickly toward him, barely noticing the others around her. She needed to be with him, almost as if something would happen to him if she couldn't see for herself that he was okay.

 

"Hey," she said breathlessly as she reached him and stood in front of him, looking him up and down. At the sound of her voice, he raised his gaze, an emotion flickering in his eyes, so brief that she couldn't interpret it until he regained control of his expression.

 

"Hey." He answered simply, but she barely heard him. Her gaze pierced him, searching for any sign of injury. A deep wound on his forehead, probably from a blow. Not yet treated. Possible brain trauma? She let her eyes wander further, his shirt slightly torn. Even when he tried to cover it up, his posture was stiff.

 

"Put that aside for a moment," she urged him, nodding toward his hands, which were still busy stitching the open wound of the woman in front of him. His gaze lifted and met hers for a brief moment. It was as if it took all the air from her lungs. It gave her comfort and calmed her, but a bad feeling crept in. The way she looked at him, basically the same as always, but he seemed to be trying to hide something. He didn't respond immediately, but instead continued to sew. Claire became uneasy, about to protest, but then she saw him put in the last stitches and take a step back.

 

"Thank you, Dr. Melendez," the woman said, and Neil gave her a small smile.

 

"Rest for a moment, Noreen. I'll be right back." It felt like an eternity before Neil finally paid Claire attention, as if he were trying to buy time. But Claire wasn't shaken off so easily. She watched him slip the rubber gloves off his hands, and the next moment she reached for her flashlight to examine him. Neil grumbled in dissatisfaction, but didn't resist as she took a closer look at the wound on his head.

 

"It needs to be cleaned and stitched," she commented, and Neil simply nodded. "I'll take care of it right away." Neil still said nothing as she examined his eyes. Pupils even, no sign of a brain injury. Claire let a heavy breath escape from her lungs without realizing it before raising her gaze and looking at him for a moment.

 

"I'm fine," he said with a small smile. His voice so warm that it immediately reassured Claire, even though she knew it didn't matter. Even if he wasn't well, Neil still wouldn't admit it. She knew that, and he knew it too. She nodded absentmindedly as she mentally went through all the important steps in her head. Her gaze automatically landed on the small tear in his shirt.

 

"Pull that up," she urged, and he rolled his eyes, though the smile on his mouth grew.

 

"Claire ..." She gave him a serious look that said everything she didn't say. "That's not necessary," he added, still wearing a slight smirk. Claire wasn't fazed. She continued to stare at him, and for a brief moment, an emotion flashed across his expression, the one that always did when she looked at him like that. It wasn't exactly impatience or disrespect, more like hesitation. He'd already realized there was no point in arguing with her when she was like this, and most times, unless he completely disagreed with her, he admitted defeat.

In this case, he obeyed, pulling up his shirt far enough to reveal the deep bruise that ran across his ribs and down his belly. Claire frowned. It looked painful, but only superficially. She reached out and gently touched the area, causing Neil to flinch slightly.

 

"Does that hurt?" she asked, examining the spots she gently pressed with her fingertips.

 

"What do you think?" he asked back, his voice amused. Claire sighed. It reassured her that he was capable of making jokes, but she still didn't feel like laughing. She felt the tension leave her a little, the weight on her shoulders only half as heavy. She took a step back and met his gaze. "I'm fine," he repeated, and even though everything inside her told her not to, she believed him. The warm smile he gave her made her knees go weak, and she forced herself to look away.

 

"We'll stitch you up later at the hospital. Sit down." She pointed to the area where the woman he'd stitched up was sitting. "I'll clean the wound and administer first aid." Neil sucked in a sharp breath, and Claire expected him to protest again, but he didn't. He sat down and smiled at the other woman. She gave him a meaningful look that Claire couldn't interpret. She hesitated, about to ask what that meant, but decided against it. Worst case scenario, he'd use whatever was going on between them as an excuse to get out of the situation again. Without another word, she pulled the cleaning supplies from her bag and gently dabbed the blood from his forehead, which had already dried. Neil looked up, but she didn't dare look at him. Her emotions were in chaos; she hadn't been able to get anything done all evening, afraid that something might have happened to him. She didn't want to lose herself in his gaze now.

"Are you dizzy? Are you having trouble seeing?" Neil didn't answer right away, not until Claire gave him an intense look.

 

"Wouldn't patch anyone up if that were the case." A convincing argument, but something about the way he said it made her pause, even though she wasn't sure what it was. "Glassman should go back to the hospital. His shoulder is dislocated. His head was hit hard, too," he said finally, and Claire nodded.

 

"I know." Neil nodded too. Claire began to disinfect the wound, knowing it would burn like hell, but he didn't flinch. If she hadn't known him better, she would have wondered if he could even feel it anymore. But he couldn't hide the tension in his jaw.

 

"How bad was it in the hospital?" Neil asked after another silence, while Claire applied the small bandage to his forehead.

 

"So, all hell's probably broken loose there now. But it hasn't hit us hard." She paused briefly as she stepped back to take another look at her work." The only casualty is the ugly picture in the ER, but oh well." She chuckled slightly, feeling Neil grinning too.

 

"The picture of the sunrise in New York?" Claire nodded, and Neil laughed slightly. Claire had always hated that picture, hadn't understood the point. Not only was it ugly, but it was also unnecessarily cheesy. And they certainly had nothing to do with New York. The corners of Claire's mouth twitched slightly when she heard his grumbling laugh; it sent warmth through her body, as it had so many times before.

She noticed the small trace of blood she'd missed and lifted his chin to wipe that away as well. Neil said nothing, but she felt his gaze on her skin, which seemed to pierce her. Her heart beat faster than necessary as she realized how close she suddenly was to him. It wasn't anything inappropriate or unprofessional; she was simply cleaning his injuries. But it felt more meaningful than it should have, when she felt his warm breath on her face, or noticed how he closed his eyes briefly at her touch, as if he'd momentarily forgotten the mask he was putting on.

Claire cleared her throat.

 

"As good as new," she said, her voice less confident than she'd hoped. Neil nodded and gave her a slight smile before standing up as if on a moment's notice - awkward and unsteady. Claire grimaced but said nothing.

 

"Thanks. I'll give Noreen a complete check-up now. Then we should check the back of the brewery; we haven't been there yet." Claire frowned but nodded in agreement. Her gaze fell on the woman beside them.

 

"I'm Noreen." She greeted Claire with a slight smile and held out her hand.

 

"Claire," she said, forgetting for the moment that she was there as a doctor. But it didn't matter. She'd repeatedly received negative points during her training for not adhering to the official guidelines of professionalism and for addressing patients by their first names or introducing herself with hers. She didn't see any problem with it; it seemed to help most people trust her. Her boss, however, had called it a weakness. "You want to be a doctor, not a nurse." Claire mentally shook her head, glad that she hardly had any such problems anymore at Bonadventure. Noreen's smirk pulled her from her thoughts, just in time to notice the look she gave Neil. Neil held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary, and Claire felt like she was getting in the way of a personal conversation. She frowned.

"I'll go find Dr. Lim and give her an update. Have her make sure Glassman is in the next ambulance." Neil just nodded slightly before turning his attention back to Noreen.

 

"Stay close." He murmured, almost too quietly to hear. Claire's heart skipped a beat. Warmth spread through her body, and she shook her head. It was almost impossible, the control he had over her, with just a few words or glances. Claire didn't know what that meant, and she didn't want to know. She knew how she felt about him, but she also knew she couldn't confront it. Especially not in the middle of the chaos of a collapsed building. Still, she sighed with relief. He actually seemed fine, superficial injuries aside. She almost couldn't believe it; she'd been so sure she was going to lose someone she cared about today. It had felt like it always did when something bad happened. Final; a feeling of powerlessness and numbness had taken over her since she'd learned of the disaster. And now she felt relieved.

And guilty, precisely because she felt relieved. People had been injured or even died today, and at that moment, she felt nothing but a wave of happiness that wrapped itself around her like a warm, protective blanket.

In the distance, she saw Lim helping someone carry an injured person into the ambulance.

"Dr. Lim," Claire said when she reached her. She immediately turned around, concern on her face, as if she, too, was already expecting to hear bad news from her. Claire felt her features soften as she looked at Audrey and exhaled heavily. "Dr. Glassman should be taken to the hospital. He appears to have an injured shoulder and possible traumatic brain injury." Audrey nodded and glanced over Claire, probably searching for Aaron. "I found Dr. Melendez. Other than some nasty-looking bruises and a cut that needs stitches, he doesn't seem to be injured." Claire felt Audrey's tension involuntarily ease, as if a knot had been untied. For a brief moment, she let go of her professional mask and breathed a sigh of relief. Claire felt the emotions she had tried to suppress boiling up inside her. The sight of Audrey reminded her of what had been at stake today. Before she could get too worked up, Audrey nodded, her facade the same as always.

 

"Good, thanks. I'll take care of Glassman. You stay with Melendez; it's better if we're not alone. It's ... bad out here." Claire nodded as she looked around. She hadn't noticed much of what had happened here while her thoughts were focused solely on Neil. But now that she knew he was safe, she realized the extent of the disaster. A cold shiver ran down her spine and she sighed.

 

"Okay." Before she could fully turn around, Audrey grabbed her arm and forced her back.

 

"If anything happens ... call me." They simply looked at each other for a moment; no further words had been needed to know what she was talking about. They both knew Neil well by now - he didn't let it show when he was feeling bad, not even in front of those closest to him. Claire knew she had to keep an eye on him. Even though she was sure he wasn't lying and was doing well under the circumstances, she couldn't be sure. She wouldn't let anything happen to him, not if she could prevent it. Claire nodded.

"And take care of yourself." Audrey added before loosening her grip on Claire's arm and letting her go.

Claire made her way through the rubble, her movements anything but agile, the floor barely walkable, everything covered in broken glass and rock debris. Suddenly, she saw the remains of a sign that had probably been hanging here just a few hours ago. It was barely readable, the only recognizable word being 'Charity.' Claire grimaced. It was so ironic that such a disaster always struck when they least expected it. And then, when could they have been prepared for something like this? Still, it had an bitter aftertaste that the earthquake had caused such damage in a place like this, where people had come together to do good, to help others, to make the world a little better. Claire knew she had to do everything in her power to at least partially right this injustice.

But when she arrived at the spot where she had left Neil and Noreen, they were gone. Frustration spread through her, followed by quiet, unshakable panic. It wasn't uncharacteristic of Neil, however, not to be able to sit still in a situation like this. It had probably just taken him too long for her to get back. Claire bit the inside of her cheek, swallowing her displeasure, knowing she wouldn't have acted any differently in his situation. She made her way to the end of the brewery where she suspected him to be. She saw Alex looming over a boy who was trapped. For a brief moment, Claire considered helping him, but saw the many firefighters already standing around them and decided not to stand in their way.

From the distance, she finally saw Neil again. He was standing next to Noreen, both bent over, seemingly focused on a woman who had been impaled by something. Without hesitation, Claire rushed to them, and only when she caught up did she realize the extent of what had happened.

 

"What do we have here?" Noreen and Neil looked up at the same time, concern in their eyes. Noreen was shaking all over.

 

"Marta's been impaled. Shaun thinks that if we pull the pipe out, we'll paralyze her at the same time ..." Neil sighed heavily and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "He's right." Claire crouched down to assess the situation, her gloves already stained with blood. The tube protruded from the womans abdomen, just below her ribs. Her face was contorted in pain, but her eyes were alert and full of fear. "We don't have time," Neil murmured in a calm, firm voice. "The hospital is too far away ... If we secure the tube here and perform the surgery, we'll increase her chances of survival."

 

"And if she doesn't survive?" Noreen cried, the lightness she had radiated just minutes ago gone. Her voice was panicked, tears glistening in her eyes.

 

"If we move her, she won't make it," Claire said, looking over her shoulder. She held Noreen's gaze, her voice gentler than Neil's, but just as determined. "I understand your fear. But we have to get this done, right now, or she has no chance at all." Noreen looked from Claire to Neil, then to the woman on the ground. She didn't want to give in. Claire felt Neil's gaze on her. As she looked at him, there was something in his eyes - an unspoken conflict, a spark of emotion he could barely hide in this tense situation. Perhaps it was the urgency of the moment, perhaps the way they understood each other without words.

"We have to decide," Claire said, this time addressing Neil. "If we operate, we'll need emergency care. We can secure the area as much as we can, but the risk remains high."

 

"I know." Neil took a deep breath, his gaze lingering on her, a hint of something beyond medical urgency. "But it's the best chance we got." Claire lowered her gaze briefly, then nodded.

 

"Then let's do it." Noreen sniffed softly, looking pleadingly at Neil.

 

"Please, save her." Neil nodded curtly.

 

"We will." His gaze met Claire's once more, and for a split second, there was something there - an unspoken promise. Then he turned his gaze up; for a moment, the silence hung heavy over them. They both knew the decision was far from ideal, but they had no other choice. "Let's get everything ready."

Claire stood up and grabbed her emergency bag, preparing everything, sterilizing all the necessary instruments. It was absurd; she'd never performed surgery outside of the OR before, but Neil was doing what he always did. His charisma was enough to give hope, strength. As if by reflex, Claire turned and looked at him. His back was to her, his posture tense. Obviously, he was preparing himself, too, but Claire could already see from where she was crouching, that every muscle in his body was tense. His hand lay protectively, or even clutching, over his stomach. His breathing was slightly disturbed, shallow, and controlled. As if he didn't want anyone to notice. But Claire had noticed. She stood up, waiting for him to turn around, but he apparently hadn't even noticed her.

 

"You're in pain." She remarked, and as if by reflex, he turned around, his face visibly more tense than before, a little paler. The small line on his forehead that always appeared when he was focused on something was present in his face, his jaw tensed. Claire took a step closer.

 

"It's okay." He commented low, too sharply, too quickly, the words breathless. Claire furrowed her eyebrows and instinctively raised her hand to assess the situation, or to comfort him, she wasn't sure. But before she could touch him, he straightened, his face absent. Claire knew that look all too well. He was stubborn, she had to accept his decision. He exhaled in frustration. "Claire, we don't have time for this." Claire grimaced, shook her head.

 

"Then make time for it." Her voice louder than planned, her gaze intense as she stepped fully into his space. "Because if you drop in the middle of this, I'll have one more patient I can't afford to lose." He said nothing, his eyes locked with hers. This wasn't about who was right; they both knew she was right. This was about who could hold their ground longer. Claire wasn't going to give up, and neither was he. At least, that's what she had suspected, but after only a few seconds, he sighed and turned away. She watched his every move as he pulled a syringe from his pocket and held it out to her. She hesitated for a brief, barely noticeable moment before reaching for it. He already knew the painkiller worked fastest when injected into the affected area, so he pulled his shirt up again. Claire took a sharp breath. The stain was already considerably darker. Her eyes flicked to his face, but he had averted his gaze, motionless, as if it didn't concern him. She let a soft breath escape her lips before disinfecting the area. She made no effort to be particularly gentle, knowing full well it would hurt. She didn't look up as she primed the syringe with the painkiller; she didn't need to. She saw his muscles tense, his body flinched involuntarily, but he didn't move.

 

"Satisfied?" he asked sarcastically, his voice sharper than he'd probably intended. Claire didn't answer; she knew he was in pain and was trying to hide it as best he could. There was no point in arguing with him now; he was preoccupied with himself.

 

****

 

Marta's operation had gone without a hitch, as far as things could have gone under the circumstances. Noreen overeagerly fell into Neil's arms, and he grimaced, the first time that evening that Claire had seen any real emotion in him. But the moment was gone as quickly as it had come, the crooked grin on his face already back, even though Claire could see right away that it hadn't been genuine. She made sure Marta was taken to the ambulance. Several hours had already passed; she couldn't say exactly how many. There were far fewer people here now than before, most of it already over. Claire took a moment and closed her eyes, sighing heavily. The weight of what had happened weighed heavily on her shoulders, her muscles tense. She breathed in and out. It would most likely take until the early hours of the morning until all the injured had been treated or taken to the hospital, but she could already feel the severe exhaustion deep in her bones, the adrenaline barely noticeable. Days like these were endless, but she had to keep going. She turned around and headed back toward Neil, whom she saw sitting on one of the fallen stones, his eyes closed. Claire's heart sank at the sight. She already felt sick, she couldn't imagine what it was like for him, while being hurt.

"Hey." She said quietly as she stood next to him, and he suddenly opened his eyes. Whether he was just startled or didn't want her to see that he was losing strength, she couldn't tell. She looked down at him, a sympathetic smile on her lips. "How are you holding up?" He said nothing, but the small smile that always made her weak in the legs returned to his face.

 

"You don't have to worry about me." He said and the way he said it, she could have believed him. His voice stronger than would have been normal in his situation. As always, he radiated confidence, security. As if he wasn't struggling with pain that would probably have knocked anyone else out long ago. She could see that his muscles were tense, but he covered it up with his posture. Claire wondered if there would ever be a moment when he would give up this game and let her see behind his facade. Although she knew he didn't like to admit weakness, she had told him over and over again over the past few months that it would be okay if he opened up. And in many ways, he already had. It happened much faster than she thought that he had given her a glimpse into his mind. At work, he had always seemed so cold, distant. Not as if he had something to hide or be ashamed of, but as if he didn't want others to really see him as he was. Ever since they'd gone jogging together, he'd shown her a different side of himself, one so different from what she'd expected from him.

He was funny, not just in that cheeky, stuck-up way; he was actually just funny, lighthearted in a way. It was the last thing she'd expected from someone like him. Then again, she hadn't expected him to reach out when she was drowning. And yet he had, never for a second judging her for what she'd been ashamed of her entire life. He was that kind of person, even if it hadn't been immediately obvious to everyone. He was caring, always concerned about the well-being of those close to him. Claire couldn't understand why, in a moment like this, he couldn't let his guard down, even though he'd already been so vulnerable with her.

He also knew she had no choice but to worry about him, and not just because of who he was. She always worried too much, was always too self-involved. And especially when it concerned him, the person who had become the one she would always turn to with whatever was on her mind in the last few months – no matter how hard she fought it, it wouldn't have changed the fact that she was paralyzed with worry. And he knew it. That was why he was looking at her in that moment, as if nothing that had happened had affected him in the slightest. As if it was just the two of them, a team. Claire knew it was just a facade, that he knew what that look would trigger in her, but she let it happen. She took a deep breath and accepted that he was isolating himself.

 

"Most of the injured are now gathered near the exit, waiting to be taken to the hospital. I think we should make ourselves useful there." She said instead, and Neil nodded. Claire turned and led the way, carefully treading through the rubble. She was so intent on not falling that she almost lost sight of Neil. Almost. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw him fall, barely managing to grab onto the remains of a pillar. She turned to him abruptly. His gaze didn't meet hers immediately, but when it did, alarm flashed through his strong facade for a brief moment. "What was that?" Claire asked, her voice more concerned than she would have liked. Without control over it, she stepped a little closer to him. He was still holding on to the pillar, his posture more uncertain than it had been all evening, but a faint smile on his face. He waved his hand dismissively.

 

"Nothing, I just tripped, wasn't looking properly." Claire didn't have to know him well to know he was lying. His breathing was labored, his voice a little shaky, very uncharacteristic of him. She took another step toward him, her brows furrowed.

 

"Are you dizzy? Are you in pain?" she asked again. He didn't respond, but a slight movement of his head, almost a shake, answered her question. How truthful that answer was, she could already see in his face. "Where does it hurt?" Neil replied with a slight roll of his eyes before straightening up.

 

"Claire ... it's nothing." She didn't believe him, even though she wanted to. Her medical instincts and her understanding of human nature wouldn't accept his answer.

 

"Let me look at your wound," she demanded. He sighed, but didn't argue. That alone was enough of a statement. She took her flashlight and examined the wound on his head. It had started bleeding again, the cut deeper than she had previously suspected. Claire shook her head. "Okay, we'll go to the front and you'll take the next ambulance back to the hospital." Neil grimaced as if it were the most absurd thing she could have said at that moment, but she ignored it and turned to leave, careful not to stray too far ahead this time.

 

"I can't go back yet, you said it yourself, there are still people who need help." Claire nodded, glancing over her shoulder. She was relieved to see him following her despite his protestations. His movements weren't as unsteady as one would have expected from him at that moment, but Claire still stopped briefly so she could walk beside him, just in case he fell again.

 

"Nothing we can't handle on our own. You need to get this wound properly treated, and after that, I won't let you touch my patients anymore. You shouldn't be working in your condition anyway." Claire noticed Neil's slightly amused expression out of the corner of her eye and wanted to shake him, pointing out that this was indeed a more serious situation than it seemed. "You'll get a full checkup then; we should make sure your injuries are nothing more serious than bruises." Neil sighed in frustration.

 

"Claire, I'm a doctor, I'm needed here, I'm not leaving." Claire stopped and turned to him. Her gaze caught his, she tilted her chin slightly forward before shaking her head.

 

"You're not a doctor anymore, you're a patient. My patient. So you're going back to the hospital and get this checked out." Neil chuckled slightly, and Claire gritted her teeth, afraid she'd yell at him if he continued to disregard her.

 

"That's really not - "

 

"That wasn't a request, do you understand? You get in the next ambulance and go back to the hospital. You get that?" Claire's voice had gotten a little louder than she'd intended, but it had the desired effect. Neil's smile disappeared, his expression becoming a little more serious. He searched her face for any sign that he could somehow convince her otherwise, but she gave him none. She stood her ground. Finally, he just nodded slightly and started to walk away. Claire knew why he'd agreed. Not because she'd convinced him, at least not entirely. She knew he understood the seriousness of the situation, even if he'd been putting it off all evening. At best, he'd gotten away with a few scratches, the dizziness a sign of a concussion or simply stress.

At worst … she didn't want to think about it. In the worst case, she had made the wrong diagnosis. In the worst case, his injuries would be worse than they had initially appeared. She would have allowed him to spend the entire evening crawling through the rubble with internal bleeding, and she wouldn't have realized it. Perhaps it was already too late. She shook her head. He would have completely different symptoms. He would be much worse by now.

When they arrived at the former entrance of the brewery, Claire saw Audrey, who was busy putting her bag into one of the currently free ambulances. Claire made a slight gesture to get her attention, and Audrey immediately turned to them. She frowned when she saw Neil.

"Hey, are you going back?" Claire asked when they reached her. She noticed Audreys eyes on Neil, a small frown on her forehead, but she didn't say anything. She looked away and gave Claire a long, ambiguous look for a brief moment before nodding.

 

"The emergency room is overflowing, they need people. We've got everything under control here, so I was going back." Claire nodded and gently nudged Neil, who made a dissatisfied noise.

 

"Then please take Dr. Melendez with you, make sure he gets checked out." Audrey's expression darkened before she turned to him.

 

"What's wrong?" Neil made a noncommittal nod of his head, making it clear what he thought of the situation, but Claire remained stubborn.

 

"His wounds need to be treated, we need a head CT scan and internal injury check." She felt the lump in her throat, but swallowed it without letting it show. "I think he's dizzy." Neil glanced at her briefly, but said nothing more. Claire could see his jaw tense. Audrey looked back and forth between them, worried.

 

"Are you serious?" Claire tried not to take the accusatory tone in Audrey's voice personally and nodded. She couldn't read her expression, but she turned immediately and seemed to be putting everything else into the ambulance. For a brief moment, Claire was alone with Neil; no one said anything. She didn't know if he was thinking the same thing she was. But the fear she had repressed hours ago was now as present as it had been at the beginning. She didn't dare look at him, didn't know what to say. She wanted to beg him that it wasn't serious, to reproach him for having to go to the brewery in the first place and not stay in the hospital like always. But she said nothing; instead, a heavy breath escaped her lips, her body trembling almost imperceptibly. Neil's gaze landed on her, but she still didn't dare look at him. He seemed about to say something, but the next moment, Audrey appeared with a bed on which lay an unconscious man. She pushed him into the ambulance and then pointed at Neil.

"Get in." Her voice allowed no objections, and he nodded immediately. Before he even got in, he turned back to Claire, this time she was looking back at him. His gaze was unrecognizable -concern, warmth, doubt? Nothing remained of the cold mask he had worn until recently.

 

"Take care," he said, and Claire only managed a small nod before he turned around and got into the ambulance with Audrey. Claire's breathing became labored, seeing him in the ambulance now, making the whole thing more real and frightening. She clenched her hands into fists, her teeth digging into the flesh of her cheek, preventing her from screaming out all her fears. He was still staring at her without saying anything, she felt his gaze seared into her memory. Without another word, and wanting to finally escape the moment, Claire closed the doors and knocked on them, and the next moment the ambulance drove off. She stood helplessly behind, watching the car drive down the street, the siren almost ringing in her ears. Claire watched after the ambulance long after it had rounded the next intersection.

 

****

 

Claire moved with purpose, her hands quick and sure as she pressed gauze against a man’s bleeding forehead. She barely heared his murmured thanks before she was on to the next, kneeling beside a woman cradling her arm. The acrid scent of smoke clinged to the air, mixing with the sharp tang of blood and antiseptic. It made her sick to the stomach, after hours of being here, she would’ve expected to get used to it, but she felt like it was getting worse. Exhaustion made her weak, almost careless. She was worried that it would cost her efficiency, that she would make mistakes. Nevertheless, she worked efficiently, methodically, like she always did. But every few minutes, her eyes flickered toward the road, where the ambulance had disappeared.

Neil was fine. He had to be.

She repeated it in her head like a mantra, but it did nothing to stop the tightness in her chest. The memory of his face - pale, pain hidden behind forced composure, lingered like an afterimage. He hadn’t wanted to go. She had made him. Had he gotten worse on the way? Did he let them take care of him, or did he brush them off like he always did? She hated that she hadn't gone with him, and felt guilty. While it comforted her a little to have Audrey with him, she still felt like she owed it to him to be with him. Maybe she owed it to herself, too. Because while she'd been by his side, it was okay, even if he didn't seem well. Now it wasn't.

Her fingers fumbled as she reached for a roll of gauze. It sliped from her grasp, landing in the dirt. She exhaled sharply, flexing her hands, but the tremble was still there.

„You always expect the worst."

The words echo in her mind, teasing but warm, spoken with that small, knowing smirk of his. Neil had said it once, months ago, before they had a tough surgery.

"Someone has to," she had shot back, only half-joking.

"Not always." Claire didn't always expect the worst, she was just prepared for it. In her job, she was optimistic, hopeful, willing to at least try what seemed impossible. But with people close to her, it was different. Habit. She was used to the worst she could imagine always happening. A harmless pain in the lower abdomen that turned out to be ovarian cancer, leading to the death of her best friend. Her father leaving, not just temporary, like all the times before, but forever. Her mother, who then died just when, after endless years of disappointment, they actually seemed to be getting along, at least almost. She wasn't used to such stories having happy endings, not when they had been a part of her life. Even her mother had told her time and time again that she brought bad luck to everyone she was close to. She'd said it so often that Claire eventually began to believe it. Perhaps she had dragged Neil into the abyss from which he had tried to rescue her, perhaps she had been the reason he got hurt. This story, too, will not have a happy ending.

 

"You okay, doc?"

She looked up. One of the paramedics was watching her, concern flickering in his eyes.

 

"I'm fine," she said automatically. Too fast, too sharp. She snatched up the gauze, brushing dirt from the edges. The paramedic hesitated like he might say something else, but she didn‘t give him the chance. She moved to the next patient, keeping her hands steady even as something in her chest tightens. She couldn‘t afford fear right now.

But it was there anyway, coiled beneath the surface. The image of Neil, slumped in the ambulance, flickered through her mind again. What if she’d waited too long to send him? What if -

She swallowed hard, forcing the thought away. Later.

Now she concentrated on treating all the other patients as quickly as possible so that she could follow Neil as soon as possible.

 

---

 

Notes:

This one still felt a bit like intro. The next chapter is getting the story really started ;)

Chapter 3: Where I stopped pretending to be in control

Notes:

If you ever wonder: yes, the earthquake topic gives me so much anxiety. I was very emotional while writing the last 3 chapters. This one was fun, tho. This is where the drama begins 😏

 

---

 

The scream cuts through the air, high and sharp. Neil looks up just in time to see Gaby lose her grip. For a second, she’s weightless - arms flailing, eyes wide. Then she hits the ground.

The sound is sickening.

Neil is running before he even thinks about it. He drops to his knees beside her, heart hammering. Gaby isn’t crying right away. She just blinks up at him, confused, like she’s trying to understand what happened. Then her face crumples, and she lets out a weak, frighteningly slow whimper. Her arm is painfully twisted, her eyes wide open in shock.

“Gaby,” Neil says, his voice shaking. He reaches out, brushing the hair from her forehead, and his fingers come away wet.

Blood.

His stomach lurches. His hands hover uselessly, not knowing what to do. He’s good at fixing things, he learned that by now, but this is different. This is Gaby, small and trembling, and she’s looking at him like he should know how to make this better. But he doesn’t know. Neil forces himself to stay calm. He has to be steady. If he panics, she’ll panic.

“It’s okay,” he says, even though nothing is okay. “You are going to be okay. Just … just breathe, okay?”

She lets out a weak, dazed hum.

Neil presses his hands to the side of her face, trying to keep her still. He’s read somewhere that you’re not supposed to move someone if they hit their head. But what if she needs help? What if -

His mother’s voice shouts his name from across the yard, sharp with fear.

Neil doesn’t move.

Gaby clings to his shirt. She has almost no strength in her hand, she tries to pull him towards her, but her fingers barely close. Neil gently touches her arm, wincing when she whimpers. He bites his lip, forcing himself not to panic. He needs to be calm, if he loses control, she’ll get more scared. So he keeps his voice even.

“I’m right here. I'm not leaving you.”

Their mother finally rushes over, gasping at the sight of Gaby. Neil doesn’t move. He stays beside her, holding her uninjured hand, whispering, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” until his mother pushes him aside.

She sends him inside to get his father. Neil doesn’t want to go. He wants to stay with Gaby. But he obeys, running inside to find his father watching TV, his expression unreadable when Neil tells him.

“Se cayó,” Neil says, breathing hard. “Su brazo - creo que está roto.” (She fell. Her arm - I think it’s broken.)

His father doesn’t rush to get up. He just exhales and mutters, "Siempre se anda metiendo en problemas." (She’s always getting into trouble.) Neil hates the way he says it, like this is just another inconvenience. He swallows back the anger and runs back outside without waiting.

 

By the time they get to the hospital, Neil is silent, his jaw tight. When the doctor sets Gaby’s arm, she cries, and their mother winces - but their father doesn’t even flinch.

Neil watches him. He watches the way his father keeps his arms crossed, the way he nods but never looks worried. Never shows anything.

And Neil understands. He staightens his back, lifts his chin. He's gotta be strong. For her.

Later Neil sits outside Gaby’s room, his legs drawn up to his chest, listening to his parents argue. The small cross around his neck weighs heavily on his chest, almost suffocating. Normally, it gives him strength and confidence that everything will be okay. But today it feels different, almost ridiculously insignificant. He twists it in his fingers, considers praying for a moment. But a small part of him already knows it won't do any good. He doesn't know if God isn't here, or if he simply can't hear him over the loud voices of his parents.

“¿Qué significa daño cerebral?” (What does ‘brain damage’ mean?) his mother demands.

The doctor’s voice is calm, clinical. “Es difícil saber cuánto la afectará a largo plazo. Tal vez tenga problemas con su memoria, con su atención. Podría necesitar ayuda para aprender.” (It’s hard to say how much it will affect her long-term. She may have trouble with memory, with attention. She might need help learning.)

His father’s voice is cold. “¿Y cuánto va a costar?” (And how much will this cost?)

Neil’s stomach twists.

The doctor keeps talking, using words Neil doesn’t understand. Cognitive impairment. Neurological deficits. Permanent.

Neil stares at the wall, his hands clasping the small pendant. God is not here. And he won’t look out for Gaby anymore. Because it was Neil's job and he had failed.

It’s his fault. He should have caught her. He should have climbed up with her. He should have done something. Anything. But he should have been with her.

 

****

 

Neil shook his head and let a heavy breath escape his lungs. He hated being in this ambulance. He hated the feeling of uselessness; he hadn't wanted to leave them behind, the injured ... or Claire.

"Are you okay?" Audrey asked without looking up from her phone. She didn't have to look up to know what was going through his mind. She knew him inside and out; even if the frustration hadn't been written all over his face, she would have seen it from miles away. Neil knew that and gritted his teeth, not wanting to answer her. He knew exactly how she would react if he said what was going through his mind. But the restlessness wouldn't stop his body, and so he finally sighed.

 

"I'm a doctor. I'm supposed to be there, helping, not pointlessly wasting my time in the back of an ambulance." Audrey didn't raise her head, but looked up at him through her eyelashes, unfazed. "Don't look at me like that. I'm useless in here." Audrey said nothing, raised her eyes and motionlessly stared at him for a few seconds, probably waiting for him to admit he was wrong. But he wouldn't.

 

"Oh, sorry. I must have missed the fact that you already had your CT and MRI done. My bet. Should I drop you off at the next corner or should I let you drive straight back?" Neil clenched his hands into fists. How much he hated it when she spoke to him like that. She left no room for argument. Her features softened, and she leaned toward him. "I know this is frustrating, but Claire's right, and you know it. We need to get it checked out. It's probably nothing, and then you'll still be able to help plenty in the ER. Until then, you'll stay on the bench." Neil closed his eyes and grumbled in dissatisfaction.

He knew they were right. If it had happened to anyone else of his team, he would have made exactly the same decision - he probably wouldn't have even waited this long. If he'd found Claire in the condition he was in, he would have rushed her to the nearest ambulance without any discussion. He knew she would have done the same if it hadn't been for him. She wouldn't have even ended in a discussions with anyone else, but she trusted him and his decisions. Neil knew how reckless it had been of him to stay. But it had been an extreme situation, and the feeling of powerlessness he felt sitting in the back of this ambulance was driving him crazy. It felt like he was letting everyone down, like he wasn't doing what was expected of him. He needed to be with them. He needed to be with her.

"Claire's worried about you," Audrey said finally, her voice cutting through the uncomfortable silence that had build up between them. Neil sighed.

 

"You know her, she's always worrying." He looked up and noticed that she was already looking at him. Staring at him.

 

"That seemed different." Neil's body tensed, but he didn't let it show. Audrey tilted her head. "Is there something you want to tell me?" she finally asked, her voice so indifferent it almost masked the emotion in her face. Neil rolled his eyes back into the back of his head and crossed his arms. The next moment, he regretted it - a stabbing pain shot through his body, and he bit his tongue to stop himself from cursing loudly. The frustration, now spreading through him like a burning fire, made it almost impossible to hide the pain.

 

"There's nothing going on between us." He said, more sharply than he intended. He'd always noticed that she didn't believe him, that things would remain purely friendly between them. Even though she'd eventually grudgingly accepted them going jogging together or occasionally having coffee, Neil noticed the change in her tone every time she spoke to him about Claire. Not exactly accusatory, but insistent.

 

"Maybe, but she might see it differently." Those words should have been insignificant, meaningless. But they weren't. Audrey couldn't know what was going on inside Claire's head or how she felt about him. Even Neil wasn't sure. He felt the tension building between them every time they were alone, and he was sure it couldn't just be him. He'd seen her blush when he'd complimented her, had felt her glance at him out of the corner of her eye when she thought he wasn't noticing. He'd noticed every time her hand hadn't left his after a casual, small touch. But he found it difficult to admit to himself that it might actually be more than just friendship for her. She'd told him time and time again how much it meant to her that he was there for her, and he didn't want to take advantage of her or misinterpret her feelings, simply assume that emotions were involved. It was better if they weren't. As long as their feelings remained purely platonic, they wouldn't have any problems.

But he'd failed long ago in that regard, and he'd realized that again tonight. He'd been relieved when she'd suddenly stood infront of him, unharmed and as caring as ever. Ever since he'd fought his way out of the rubble, he'd felt weak, broken. But when she'd been with him, she'd given him strength, just with her presence. Even though it had taken everything he had not to let her see how much pain he was in and how much his body was yearning for a break, she let him go on. Like so many times before. And apparently that hadn't gone unnoticed. Noreen had seen the way he had looked at her, the way Claire treated him. When she had confronted him about it, he had denied it, of course, but he knew that she had felt it. Probably just as Claire had felt it that evening in his office when he had told her that she made him a better person. He couldn't allow the fact that Claire might have similar feelings for him. It would make everything so much more complicated, and he should pray that it wasn't the case. But the mere thought of it made a warmth radiate through Neil's body, making him forget his pain for a brief moment.

 

"Why are we still talking about this?" he hissed. Audrey gave him a long, unreadable look, as if considering how to handle the situation. Then her features softened.

 

"I'm trying to look out for you." Neil met her gaze, and that alone made him wonder for a moment if she might be able to understand. But he dismissed the thought immediately. He wouldn't do anything that could even remotely jeopardize Claire or her career. He sighed, the throbbing pain in his temples made him close his eyes.

 

"I don't need you to look out for me," he said instead, his voice a little warmer this time. He appreciated that she wanted to be there for him, and he knew she meant it. However, he couldn't say how she would handle it if she found out about his inappropriate feelings. Aside from the friendly 'I told you so' remarks, which he could already picture all too clearly, there was also her professional side. It was no secret that Audrey took her position at the hospital seriously, and while he was sure she would do anything to protect him, he wasn't sure how she would handle Claire's case. "We are being professional." He added. Audrey's eyes narrowed for a moment before she looked away.

 

"There's nothing professional about the way she looked at you." Neil's heart clenched as the words brought back the memories of Claire's gaze. Her eyes filled with fear that she tried to hide, her gaze never leaving him, worried that something might happen to him. He hated it. He never wanted her to see him like that, weak and vulnerable. Not because he didn't trust her - if he trusted anyone that way, it was her. But he knew exactly what the sight of him would trigger in her. Her mind was probably racing at that moment, and she was certainly blaming herself for something she couldn't do anything about. As always. Claire was the only reason he wasn't at the brewery anymore. No one else could have stopped him from continuing to be useful until he collapsed. Even though a part of him had been worried, she might be right. This could all get even worse than he realized at the moment; the adrenaline kept him on his feet. He was a doctor, he knew the consequences, and maybe that was exactly why he had held himself back from admitting he needed these tests for so long  - because he knew there might actually be something wrong. And maybe he was also afraid. But none of that was the reason he was here now. It was her worried look; he would have done anything to never have to see that look on her face again.

 

"What, are you jealous?" he asked, eyes half-open and a slight smile on his lips. Audrey paid no attention, her arms tightly folded, her legs crossed. A small part of him had been wondering for some time whether she actually still had feelings for him. When they went out drinking together, she often made hints about how the evening could take a more interesting turn. Neil always dismissed it for what it seemed - harmless, drunken flirting. But sometimes he had doubts. Although their breakup had been amicable, their relationship had come to an abrupt end, one from which both of them had had to recover. It had been hard for Neil; it had hit him harder than he could have expected. Audrey hadn't let on whether she felt the same way, but he knew her and could already guess. Sometimes he wondered if, when she returned to her apartment alone like he did, she regretted her decision. Or if she hoped he could now handle the fact that she'd gotten the job they both wanted.

The truth was, yes, looking back, the problems in their relationship hadn't really been problems. By now, he certainly could have handled her decision; they could have made it work. But he just didn't want it anymore, even though he was lonely sometimes. He'd come to understand that this simply wasn't meant to be between them. "I have this under control," he finally said, even though he knew he hadn't. And that drove him crazy.

Her gaze was intense and cold. She didn't believe him either. He closed his eyes, let his head fall against the cold wall of the car, and sighed. His body felt heavy, as if he were half asleep. His head throbbed, the pain radiating throughout his body. He felt nauseous, the stress of the last few hours weighing heavily on his shoulders. He knew if he allowed himself to rest now, he would collapse, unable to function for ... who knew how long. He opened his eyes again. Audrey was still watching him, this time worried. "Can you do me a favor?" he asked, his voice quiet, almost cautious. Her eyes widened for a moment before she nodded and leaned forward toward him.

 

"Sure. What?" Neil sighed. He'd been thinking about it all evening, even though he'd repeatedly pushed it aside in the chaos of the brewery.

 

"You need to find someone to make some calls for me. I want to know how badly the care facility has been hit. I need to know if she's okay." Audrey studied him for a moment, then nodded and pulled out her phone to take care of everything else. He hadn't needed to say anything more for her to understand. Even though he'd hardly ever spoken to Audrey about his sister, there was no one else he needed to worry about. She was all the family he had left. He didn't know what he'd do if something happened to her when he couldn't do anything about it. Again.

Neil's eyes got heavy and he closed them for the rest of the drive. He had to pull himself together, had to function. The tests would be normal, and then he'd be able to help again. He didn't want to imagine what it would be like to have to look at Claire's face after she found out he wasn't well. That wasn't an option.

 

****

 

Neil already knows it’s coming.

Gaby’s medical bills are stacking up. His father stopped pretending to be patient with her weeks ago. The way she asks the same questions twice, the way she forgets things - Neil sees the way it makes their father’s jaw clench. And then one night, he hears them fighting.

"No podemos pagar por ella." (We can’t afford her.)

"¡No la podemos abandonar!" (We can’t abandon her!)

"¡No tenemos opción!" (We don’t have a choice!)

Neil shuts his eyes. He’s always known that his father only values what’s useful, what’s strong. And now that Gaby isn’t those things, she’s expendable. He wants to scream at them. He wants to tell them they’re wrong, that they can’t just send her away like she’s nothing.

But what would that change?

Nothing.

So he says nothing.

The next morning, Gaby stands in the doorway with her small suitcase, looking at him like she doesn’t understand why she has to go.

Neil kneels in front of her, forcing a small, steady smile.

“You are going to be okay,” he tells her, like he did that night after she fell.  She trusts him. She nods, believes him. Neil’s throat tightens. He can’t let her see it. “It’s just for a little while.” A lie. A stupid, empty lie.

He watches her drive away. And he stands there, arms crossed, expression unreadable. As if it wouldn't affect him. As if it wouldn't tear him apart.

Just like his father.

He cannot change the situation, but he can control his feelings. And control is the only thing Neil has left.

 

****

 

Loud knocking against metal, a shrill whooshing sound. His hands rested loosely at his sides, his gaze fixed forward on the bare wall. It was cramped, probably too cramped. He couldn't move, shouldn't move. Then he would be out of here rather sooner than later.

The other side was foreign to him; the last time he'd been in the hospital as a patient was when he was fifteen with appendicitis. But this was something else entirely. A test that usually took no more than twenty minutes dragged on as if it took years. Neil remembered the many times he'd sat on the other side of the room wall, impatiently waiting for the test results to confirm a diagnosis. He knew it would be a while before the images were shown, but the waiting was still driving him mad. Would Audrey tell him if she saw something? He bit his tongue to keep himself from impatiently asking how long it would take. He didn't want to appear as if he was panicking, although, if he were honest, he was. Why was this taking so long? Was the machine broken? Was Audrey even still there?

Before he could think about it any further, he was pulled out of the tube. Audrey stood over him, her expression blank. Neil frowned.

"So, can I go back to work now?" She said nothing for an eternity, staring at him and sighing before crossing her arms.

 

"I'd prefer it if you woudn‘t." The lump in Neil's throat became heavy, swallowing almost impossible, his heart beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. "But the emergency room is overcrowded, and we'll certainly need you in the operating room," she said finally, nodding. Neil tilted his head, not quite sure how to process the information.

 

"So ..." Audrey nodded again and sighed, this time with relief.

 

"You were right, it's nothing. Except maybe your bruised ego from me getting to see you in that fancy hospital gown, but other than that ..." Neil chuckled, but sensed it wasn't genuine. His muscles relaxed, and then he realized how tense he'd been. For a split moment, he allowed himself to feel relief, the air forced from his lungs, his hands shaking more than he wanted to admit. Audrey didn't comment; she knew he didn't want to show any weakness, not because he had something to prove, but because he didn't want to be a burden to the others. But the next moment, he had himself under control again, the smile back on his lips.

 

"Next time, we can save a lot more time if you listen to me right away." Audrey rolled her eyes as she placed a fresh set of scrubs in front of him for him to change into.

 

"Okay, Cowboy, take it easy. I'm still a little concerned about your circulation. I've asked Nurse Solis to prepare a IV for you. You're not going back to work until the last drop is in your body." Neil still smiled slightly, but just nodded. This was probably a good idea; he was sure he wouldn't feel the effects of the fallout and his injuries until the next morning, when he'd had a little time to recover. But his body was already running on low battery, and he'd almost reached its limit. He pulled the hospital gown off his torso and began pulling on his fresh clothes - less quickly and smoothly than he would have liked, but it was a liberating feeling to get out of his dirty, torn suit. Audrey didn't bother to turn away, but she wasn't watching him directly either. In a normal situation, he probably would have teased her about it, but after an evening like this, he didn't have the strength.

"I've made a few phone calls. The care facility was pretty badly hit, but there are only minor injuries. They're currently being taken to an emergency shelter on the other side of town." Neil gritted his teeth but just nodded. The most important thing was that she was okay, but he knew Gaby – she didn't handle change well and was probably stressed and confused at that moment. On top of that, it had taken him forever to find a suitable facility for her where she felt comfortable and that wasn't too far from him, so he had to deal with that again in the near future. He couldn't think about it right now, not if he wanted to be able to do anything today.

 

"Thank you," he said simply, and Audrey nodded.

 

"Let me know if you need anything else." She placed her hand on his arm for a brief moment, and he almost froze - the sudden closeness, the warmth emanating from her, like a familiar refuge. She'd seen him like this before, had been there for him before when he'd lost the ability to pretend everything was okay, even though it wasn't. Some time ago, she'd been that for him - someone he trusted enough to let his walls down around her, to allow her to be there for him. It had become second nature. For a brief moment, he wanted nothing more than to surrender to that feeling again, to finally feel something other than pain and tension. But he just nodded, and then, without another word, she quickly disappeared out the door.

Neil closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. This night would have more consequences than he could possibly imagine right now.

 

****

 

Claire was exhausted. The fabric of her trousers was dirty and torn at the knees, her throat dry - when had she last had something to drink? She didn't remember. Her head was in chaos, images flickered, memories of the last few hours that she didn't know if they had actually happened or if she had only imagined them. She smelled blood, but she wasn't sure if it was real or not. How much she wished it had really just been a boring evening in the emergency room, like so many times before. When she argued with Alex about who got to treat the drunk's injury, just to escape the dreariness of the endless shift for a few minutes. This night was also endless, but it had nothing to do with her work. Her shift was long over, but she wasn't thinking about going home, even if her body thought otherwise. She had to get a sense for herself of how bad things were at the hospital, whether the others needed help, how Neil was doing ... Claire had hoped to get some feedback once they'd finished the tests, at least a quick call or text, but there was nothing but uncertainty. She tried not to think too much about what that meant; there could have been many reasons. She knew better than anyone how stressful it could be; they'd probably just forgotten.

The next moment, her ambulance came to a stop, and she took a deep breath before opening the doors and pushing her patient out. She was pleasantly surprised by how quiet it was, almost too quiet. There were almost no ambulances in the driveway, no one was rushing around - a good sign.

Her footsteps were heavy as she entered the emergency room, but her muscles automatically relaxed as she looked at the familiar faces of the nurses milling through the halls, almost as if nothing had happened. Although all the beds were occupied, the worst seemed to be over; there was nothing to remind her of the chaos the earthquake had wreaked not far from here.

"Dr. Browne!" she heard a voice call and immediately turned around. Dr. Andrews, still wearing his surgical cap, his gaze almost motionless, not tense, but serious. "Are you okay? You're pretty pale." Claire tilted her head, the words already on the tip of her tongue. The question should have been easy to answer. Yes. Of course. She was fine. She'd spent the whole night proving that, or at least keeping up the appearance. Persevering, solving problems, saving people. That's what she'd been good at, and she'd done just that. But now, standing here, the weight of it all pressed down on her chest, heavy and suffocating.

 

"Where are Dr. Glassman and Dr. Melendez?" she asked instead, her voice distant, as if she were just checking in on her patients. But when he lingered for a moment too long without saying anything, she realized her expression probably hadn't been so emotionless.

 

"Glassman is still in surgery. His arm is broken in several places, his shoulder is dislocated. His head took a beating, but he should pull through." Claire nodded and looked away, sighing with relief. She couldn't imagine how Shaun would have coped if Aaron had been seriously injured, or worse. It was no secret that he relied on Aaron a lot, and even if he'd developed a lot in the last years, losing him would certainly throw him off track. "Dr. Melendez is getting ready in OR 2. We were pretty busy tonight, so I'm glad he came back when he did." Claire tilted her head.

 

"Dr. Melendez‘s operating?" Andrews nodded, and before he could explain further, they were interrupted by a nurse who seemed to need his help, and he said goodbye to Claire, leaving her perplexed.

Neil was operating? She didn't know what to feel; she was relieved, clearly. If he could operate, then the tests had surely come back normal. But in his condition, he should really just be resting; it was a mystery to her how he was still standing. And maybe ... they hadn't done any tests at all. Maybe, typical Neil, he'd talked his way out of it again and convinced the others otherwise. She grimaced at the thought. She quickly made sure her patient was admitted and then decided to get a hold of the situation herself. No one had thought it was necessary to inform her of anything that had happened since the ambulance left the brewery, so she'd have to find out for herself.

She couldn't say who she'd been angry with as she headed downstairs to the operating rooms. Herself for not just going with him? But she was still needed, and neither she nor Neil could have justified letting her go. Dr. Lim for not giving her an update? Or at Neil, for being so stubborn and simply refusing to accept that he needed rest ... she knew him, she knew he'd have to collapse before he'd stop moving, but she couldn't let it happen. Most surgeons were similarly wired; they'd do whatever they could, even beyond their limits - they'd all proven that today. But this was different. He was just so damn stubborn, it drove her crazy. When she opened the door to the washroom, he was standing at the sink, busy scrubing in. And suddenly, all the anger she'd felt was gone. He looked worn out, the cap on his head barely covering the wound on his forehead, which had since been stitched up and was only adorned with a dark bruise. He was still pale, but all in all, he seemed much more like ... himself.

 

"Hey," he said, noticing her. A small smile played on his lips and she felt her knees getting weak, so she took a step toward him. For a moment, she said nothing, just watched him until he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

 

"All tests normal, then?" Her voice was shaky, and she hated herself for it, even though he probably already knew how much the evening had affected her. But when his gaze met hers, warm and reassuring, she breathed a sigh of relief.

 

"Approved by Lim herself." She gave him a small smile, which he immediately returned.

 

"How are you?" she asked worriedly. She knew by now that she wouldn't dissuade him from operating, but she still hoped for honesty. She had to know what she was getting into.

 

"Better now that you're here," he replied, his voice a little more serious than he probably intended. Claire's heart pounded rapidly against her chest, warmth spreading through her body. Immediately, she wondered if he, too, had been longing for her closeness all evening, just like the other way around. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but standing alone next to him, seeing him standing upright - confident and secure, made her feel like she could finally breathe again. "Because I need you to assist me." He added as he moved away from the sink, a wide grin on his face.

 

"Really?" was all she managed to say, earning a slightly amused look from Neil.

 

"Yeah, scrub in." She nodded, but it was as if her body was on autopilot. He watched her for a moment, hesitated, as if considering what to say, but then seemingly decided against it and walked into the operating room. As soon as the door closed behind him, Claire sighed. She'd felt so many different things that evening; fear, worry, adrenaline, she didn't have time to focus on what was stirring in her stomach. The feeling of butterflies signaling to her what she'd been repressing for weeks, maybe even longer. There was no room for it, not here, not at this moment. And not in her life either, she knew that, and perhaps because she knew that, it made it so difficult to escape.

 

****

 

Claire stood across from him, assisting with the procedure, her hands steady, but her mind elsewhere - on him.

For a while, neither of them spoke beyond the necessary steps of surgery. Then, as if needing to fill the silence, Neil finally said, "Never expected this night to go like this." His voice was steady, but there was something heavier underneath. "All those people out there … just wanted to enjoy the night, do some good. And now, so many of them are hurt. The brewery … just gone.“ Claire swallowed. She knew. They all did.

 

"It still could’ve been worse," she said quietly. Neil exhaled loudly through his nose.

 

"Yeah." He didn‘t sound entirely convinced. He never usually talked like this during surgery, usually the personal thoughts got tucked away, professionalism at the forefront, but exhaustion had softened his edges. He didn‘t even seemed to realize that she wasn’t entirely present in the conversation, too focused on what he was doing. "You were incredible today. As always.“ He paused, adjusting the grip on the instrument in his hand.  She saw it then - the weight in his expression, the stiffness in his shoulders. He wasn‘t just tired. He was carrying the night with him, the faces of those they couldn’t save. And yet, despite that, despite everything, he was still here, steady as ever. "Clamp," he said, reaching out. She placed it in his hand without hesitation, their fingers brushing briefly.

Claire swallowed hard; her heart raced when she finally realized what he'd said.

Over the past few months, as they'd worked together more and more often, they'd become a team; he'd supported her and praised her when he'd been impressed by her performance. But in this moment, it felt different, more personal. As if he wasn't just talking about work, not just about her performance. But about her as a person. He'd been saying things that she wasn't sure how to interpret and whether she wasn't reading too much into them more often lately. And every time she'd convinced herself that it was nothing more than sincere praise, she thought of the looks he gave her in such moments - so warm and meaningful. As if he were trying to tell her all the things he wasn't allowed to say. "I don't know how today would have gone without you," he remarked, almost as an afterthought. Lately, he'd been saying these things with such ease, almost as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And he was the only one she would have believed every word of, even though she didn't know why it was different with him.

 

"You are the one to talk,“ she countered, keeping her tone level even as she watched him closely. He didn’t respond right away, just finishes the next step of the surgery. When he finally spoke, it was quieter.

 

"We did what we had to do." We. Like they had been in this together. And they had, but that didn’t make her any less worried.

 

"Still. You could've - " She stoped herself. Neil glanced up briefly, just for a second, but long enough for her to see the knowing look in his eyes.

 

"I’m fine, Claire." She pressed her lips together, suppressing the urge to argue. Instead, she nodded, refocusing on the surgery. But the weight in her chest didn‘t lift.

For the next few minutes, she tried to concentrate on the operation, just as he did. As so many times before, she felt his gaze, always so brief that it wouldn't have been noticeable to outsiders, but she felt it as if it were burning through her skin. He was probably worried about her, which seemed almost absurd in this situation. Claire appreciated it, even though she had trouble dealing with it at first, once she realized that he actually recognized when she wasn't well and that it was actually bothering him. It was a foreign feeling, to have someone so attentive to her. And even if she didn't want to admit it, she quickly got used to it. And that, too, gave her a feeling of security - to be seen. But in that moment, it made her uneasy. He always worried about her, but never allowed her to be the same with him. Neil let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders back. The movement was subtle, but she'd caught it. He was tired. Probably sore. Claire bit her tongue, swallowing the comment that was trying to force its way out; she knew he wouldn't want to hear it. But finally, she gave in.

"Maybe we should take a break. I can also ask Andrews if he'd be willing to step in if …" She didn't finish the sentence; his gaze was already on her. His eyebrows were furrowed. For a long moment, he didn't say anything, and Claire could almost feel it working behind his forehead. But then he exhaled heavily and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

 

"Dr. Browne, I appreciate your concern, but -"

 

"My concern?" Claire's voice was much louder than she had planned, but the silence that followed was deafening. Not only was Neil staring at her now, but the two nurses and the anesthesiologist also gave her disapproving glances. She shook her head and returned her gaze to the patient. Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried to focus only on the surgery. Claire knew he hadn't meant it that way, but it seemed so derogatory to label her feelings as 'concern' when he was clearly overstepping every single limit, both physical and emotional. Neil cleared his throat slightly before also refocusing on the patient in front of him. A silence followed that was anything but comfortable. It was a mixture of everything; neither of them knew how to deal with what they were feeling. There were boundaries between them that neither of them ever crossed, even if they danced around them. Professional and emotional. A day like this made it almost impossible for Claire to stay within those boundaries, even if they were for her own protection. But exhaustion and the day's events had blurred those lines, as they had so many times before. Every few seconds, her gaze flicked toward him, brief, almost guilty, then darted away again, like touching something too hot. She knew that rationally, there had been no reason to be angry with him - he hadn't caused the natural disaster, he hadn't put himself in this situation. He had done what needed to be done, and she knew that. But what could have happened was too present for her, and if she didn't have the anger to focus on, she would have crumbled. She could already feel her walls beginning to fall whenever she caught a gentle glance from him, whenever she allowed herself to feel the warmth spreading in her stomach. But she couldn't allow that. Not now. Not here. So she focused on the anger that wasn't really anger.

The silence between them stretched. Tense. Awkward. Full. Neil shifted slightly. The movement made her flinch inwardly, though she didn't show it.

“I thought … ” She hesitated, the words catching. “I thought I was going to lose you.” She said so quietly that it was only for him. The sentence landed between them, quiet, fragile, too honest. Her heart was beating too fast, they both knew that already, had felt it all evening, but hearing it said felt different. A confession with too much weight. The confession that he meant more to her than she was ready to admit, that losing him would’ve been the worst thing that could happen to her. Claire blinked hard and let out a breath that wavered on the way out. Then, with an awkward shrug, she added quickly, “Which would’ve been … inconvenient.” That earned a slow look from Neil, but she kept going, stumbling through it. “I mean, I’ve gotten kind of used to you,” she said. He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to process the words or considering how much weight to give them. Claire could feel the akwardness in her words and the way she said them. But she couldn't help herself. She was never good with admitting her feelings if it would make her vulnerable. But the words had already left her mouth before she could've stopped them and now she had to deal with it. She cleared her throat.

"Your tattoo that doesn't even make sense. I mean, that's way to much antler." The small wrinkles around the corner of his eyes suggested a slight smile, but he didn't comment on that. "The way you always act like everything is fine, even when it isn't." Her voice trailed off, then came back softer. “And the way you always know when someone’s scared, but never say it out loud. You're really annoying." Neil didn't laugh. He didn't speak. But something in his expression shifted, a quiet flicker of emotion she couldn't quite name. His eyes didn't leave hers. Claire cleared her throat and shook her head, eyes down. “Anyway,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t do that again.” He was still watching her.

She didn't have to look up to know there was warmth in his gaze; she could feel it on her skin. The seconds when he didn't speak dragged on, so long that she wondered how he'd taken it. It hadn't crossed a line, at least not really. They were friends, friends who cared about each other. Yet she'd felt it, and he probably had too - that it was more than that. It wasn't that she'd never told him he was important to her; she had, many times. But mostly, it had been about what he was to her - a person of trust. But what she truly felt about him, about him as a person, she'd always kept under wraps. To protect herself, to protect him, to protect what was between them. She'd been able to sense this tension between them some time ago. At first, she'd mistaken it for sexual attraction; she could have handled that. He was an attractive man, probably far too attractive to be her boss. But what frightened her was the certainty that it went beyond that. She didn't just long for him physically, although, if she was honest, she thought far too often about what it would be like to spend a night with him. But she longed to be close to him in every other way; she wanted to spend time with him, to laugh together, to talk for hours about everything and nothing, to simply be together. And that was frightening, not only because it wasn't allowed, but because she wondered how much longer she could resist the urge.

 

“I won’t,” he said gently after what felt like an eternity. It was nothing, an empty promise he didn't know if he could keep, but in this moment, which belonged only to them, it meant everything to her because he understood her. He didn't push her away; he accepted her fear and calmed her, like so many times before. "But you weren't exactly outside sipping coffee, Claire." His voice wasn't sharp, but the words held weight. The air between them felt different now, less like the aftermath of a disaster and more like something trying to settle. Claire risked a glance at him and found him still watching her. For a second, she didn't look away, before nodding. No further words were needed, they both knew. They had done what they had to do and they were fine. At least as fine as they could be.

 

"I couldn't have done it without you," she said softly.

 

"Yes, you could've," he replied. "But I'm glad I was there … at least for the most part."

The atmosphere between them had changed, becoming warmer, more emotionally charged. She could see it in the way he glanced over at her from time to time; he felt it too. They had spent the rest of the operation in comfortable silence; it had felt strange, as it had so many times before. As if whatever it was wouldn't rest until it received the attention it deserved. The washroom remained silent, too, until the moment he pulled the cap off his head, revealing the scar on his scalp. They stood facing each other, he probably was expecting her to say something, but she didn't. He gave her a slight, warm smile before holding the door open for her, and they then disappeared together. And as soon as they strolled through the halls together, as if it were just another day, the weight lifted from Claire's shoulders. It was as if she could breathe deeply, truly breathe, for the first time all evening. The lightness she'd missed since he'd said goodbye to her in the emergency room had returned, and before she knew it, she found herself telling a far too bad joke, to which he didn't even bother to fake a laugh, but countered with an equally bad one. Just as it had always been between them over the past few months. They could understand each other almost blindly, could have deep conversations about topics Claire had repressed since childhood, or about thoughts she would never have expected to come from Neil. Or they could laugh together, egging each other on, without any point in the conversation. Claire didn't know when she last had a relationship like that with someone; probably never. During her time at the college, she had learned for the first time in her life what friendship meant when she met Kayla, someone she could talk to or remain silent with for hours. But it had felt different back then. She couldn't quite put her finger on what made it so special with Neil. Perhaps it was precisely that this friendship hadn't been meant to be, yet it had developed, as if there had been no other option. As if he had chosen her, something no one else in her life had ever done for her before. And he had done it, just like that.

 

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and something inside her tightened, something she could no longer suppress. As if everything that had been between them was now catching up with her and taking over completely, in a moment of weakness. The confident smile playing around his lips, his warm gaze that searched hers from time to time, the way he was just there with her. She couldn't even register what he was saying as he held the door to the stairwell open, her mind was blank, but the warm feeling in her stomach spread through her entire body. Paralyzing, yet guiding. Without thinking about it or being able to control it, she grabbed his wrist and brought him to a stop. The door slammed behind them, the sound far too loud, even if barely audible. Neil's gaze landed on her, confused, worried, warm. As if by reflex, he looked down at his hand, which, for whatever reason, she was still holding. Her heart was beating too loud for silence that quiet. He was watching her the way he always did - attentive, thoughtful, that slight furrow in his brow that gave away more than he probably meant to. But there was something else in this moment. Something she was too afraid to name. He raised a skeptical eyebrow, but his features remained soft. His eyes found hers and concern was reflected in them. Claire opened her mouth slightly to say something, but no words came out. What did she even want to say? Did she even want to say anything? She didn't know, her throat was dry, her eyes locked with his. He didn't seem to be able to fully handle the situation because he didn't say anything. It was only a few seconds that they stood there, but it felt like an eternity. Claire was on autopilot, her heart beating fast against her ribcage, a warm reminder that she was still clutching his wrist. Something shifted - something unspoken rising between them. The kind of silence that said too much. The kind that made her heart stutter. He was right in front of her, solid and steady, the way he always was. And suddenly, that wasn't enough. Suddenly, she needed to feel it. That he was there. Still there.

She took a small step towards him, his eyes flickering all over her face, trying to interpret what she was planning. Claire hesitated for a brief moment, her heart pounding in her throat, her breathing already uneven, but it was as if she had lost all control over her body, which simply wanted to surrender to what she had hidden from for so long. Something quiet, and unguarded, and real. Something that made her chest ache in a way that wasn’t painful. Claire let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her hand rose slowly, uncertain fingers touching the fabric of his shirt, his shoulder solid beneath it. Her gaze dropped to his lips. Then back up. Neil didn’t flinch, but she felt his muscles tense beneath her fingertips. His gaze also flickered to her lips, almost weighing it up, uncertain, but he didn’t back up. In that moment, when Claire no longer had the strength to make reasonable decisions, that was sign enough for her.

It was absurd, wasn’t it? Here, of all places. The staircase. After everything. The world outside was broken glass and sirens, and she could still feel the blood of a stranger drying on her wrist but all that mattered was him.

She leaned towards him and was suddenly close, so close that their lips were only inches apart and she closed her eyes. His warm uneven breath tingling on her skin, his muscles tense under her fingertips. She wasn't sure what drove her to do that in that moment; all she knew was that she wanted to finally feel what it was like to be close to him. There were no consequences, no what ifs, no overthinking. There was just her and Neil and the irresistible force pulling their bodies together.

Their lips met softly at first, almost too lightly, a hesitant pressure, warm and gentle. If it had surprised Neil, then he hadn't let on, he met her halfway. When she kissed him, it was like exhaling. Soft at first, so soft she barely believed it was real. His lips were warm, still, tasting faintly like dirt and metal and something familiar she couldn't name. She lingered there, afraid to move, afraid to break it, but he leaned in just enough to tell her he was there. That he wasn't going anywhere. A breath held between them, a thousand buried feelings finally breaking the surface. The warmth of his breath ghosting over her skin, making her knees go weak, as he gently moved his lips against hers. And that's when something in her shifted.

She gave in to him, not with urgency, but with depth. With quiet devotion. His free hand gently wrapped around her waist, his fingertips warm, as if they were burning through the fabric of her clothing. His movement was not demanding, but surrendering, allowing what had been building for so long to happen. Light and careful, just like the movement of his lips. She tilted her head, deepening the kiss, not rushed, not messy, but sure. As if something they’d both kept buried had finally found its way to the surface. She was chasing the warmth of it, the feel of him, the quiet truth of it all. The slow drag of his lips against hers, the careful press of his fingers at her waist, the way he let her set the pace - it was overwhelming. Her pulse thrummed in her throat. Her whole body felt alive, like her skin had woken up under his hands. Waves of heat flowed through her entire body, making her sigh softly. He freed his hand from her grip and it found its way to her neck, pulling her even closer, as if he couldn't get enough of the sensation she evoked in him. Claire felt his warm fingertips against her skin, goosebumps spreading all over her body as she let her hand wander to his chest. She felt his tense muscles beneath his shirt, his heart beating strongly beneath her touch as she pulled him even closer. There was no space between them anymore, and Claire felt dizzy, so much, too unreal. The scent of his aftershave, weaker than usual, mixed with the smell of dirt and metal, enveloped her in a sense of familiarity in foreign territory.

She hadn't expected kissing him to feel like this, even though she'd imagined it so many times before. He was a good kisser, a fantastic kisser - of course he was; with an ego like his, anything else would have surprised her. But it was more than that, it felt right, in a strange way, the touch of his lips made hers tingle; warm, soft. His movements in perfect harmony with hers, brushing against each other, tasting each other. But the feeling he triggered in her was different than what she was used to, not arousal – ​​not just arousal – ​​but something deeper. She felt safe in his arms, sheltered, as if everything around them didn't exist, the noise of everyday life silent and peaceful. And yet it didn't seem to be enough, she wanted to feel everything from him, his hands on her body, their mouths, which had closed themselves off to the truth for so long, merging together. His fingers dug into her skin as if he'd had exactly the same thought, not demanding, but anchoring himself. Her body shuddered at his touch and she felt his breathing become a little more hectic, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. But then they seemed to realize where they were, the movements of their lips slowed down, both hesitant to escape the moment, but Neil was the first to pull away. His breath warm on her face, still too close for her not to feel him. Claire didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t have to. For the first time in what felt like years, she wasn’t carrying it all alone.

"Claire ... " he said softly, his voice breathless and heavy. Only when he slowly removed his hand from her neck did she open her eyes, her gaze foggy. Her heart was beating fast, dissatisfied with the sudden distance from him, and Claire almost protested, but then she met his gaze. His eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes darting restlessly across her face. "I ..." he swallowed the next words, and something about the way he'd said that word made her chest tighten. It wasn't comforting or warm, but uncertain and distant. She waited for him to speak, but he didn't, and her throat tightened. The next moment, a pager went off, making them both jump. Before she could even think about checking her pager, he'd already pulled his from his pocket. "I ... have to go." Claire could only manage a slight nod, her body frozen. Neil glanced at her again, but she didn't dare return his gaze and looked down. He seemed to hesitate, maybe a few more words on the tip of his tongue, his hand slightly stretched in her direction, but the next moment he walked past her, leaving her alone. The door closed, and a heavy breath escaped her lips. She felt disconnected and confused.

What had just happened?

 

---

 

Notes:

Oh the return of the turtle. Neil, Neil, Neil. You don't just kiss a woman senseless and then leave her standing in the staircase 😩
Also a question for all of you out there: how do you feel about audrey and neil? Do you like their friendship?
Do you think that audrey might still have feelings for Neil or would want something to happen between them even tho they both agreed to a friendship?
How do we feel about the two of them? Do you feel like they would still be close or more or less distant since they broke up? (We didn't get to see much of them in the show after that)
I don't want to focus on their friendship if it’s a trigger for some of you :)
Oh and also. I guess some of you already had forgotten that neil has a sister. It's a shame they brushed the storyline down like they had. Excuse me, make some room for character growth?

Well. We will see how all of this will turn out. See you next week 🥰

Chapter 4: Can't we pretend it's still yesterday?

 

---

 

Claire leans on the railing, eyes on the dim city below. A half-eaten granola bar rests beside her. She hears footsteps behind her but doesn’t turn. Jared steps up next to her, holding two coffees.
„You missed dinner.“ he says simply but warm. Claire glances at him, then at the coffee. She accepts it with a small nod.

„Thanks.“ A beat of silence as they stand side by side, the quiet settling in.

„You always come up here when you want to be alone.“ Claire smiles lightly, even tho she doesn’t feel like it. She already knows where this is going to go.

„And yet you always find me.“ He gives a small smile.

„Habit.“ She sips the coffee, staring into the dark. There is another pause, maybe she wants him to go, maybe she wants him to stay, she doesn’t even know for sure, she never does. His closeness feels good on some days, but on days like these, she feels like it's suffocating her.

„You ever think about … what this is?“ She doesn’t answer. He doesn’t expect her to, not really. „Feels like I’m the only one thinking about it sometimes.“ Claire’s grip tightens slightly on the cup. She looks away.

„It’s been a long day.“ She already knows he doesn't believe her; this isn't the first time they've had this conversation. She's tired of making excuses, but facing the truth is more frightening. Jared nods slowly, gaze searching her profile. He looks like he wants to say more but he doesn't push.

„Yeah. It always is with you.“ Claire doesn’t respond. He gives her one last look, then steps back. She turns to him then, eyes shining just slightly, not from tears exactly, but from the effort of holding everything in. „I’ll see you later.“

He walks away. She stays still, watching the city as the wind brushes her hair. Her face is calm. But her eyes are full of everything she’ll never say.

 

****

 

The morning sun shone through the thin curtains of the window, illuminating the room so brightly that it was too bright to even think about sleeping. Claire lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling - she hadn't expected to be able to sleep anyway, even though last night had weighed heavily on her. Her body ached, her limbs were stiff, but her mind was racing. There had been countless ways the events at the brewery could have ended, and she'd played through every single scenario hundreds of times. But the very last thing she'd expected was how they actually had.

She had kissed her boss. Well, he was considerably more than that, but that fact remained. Part of her hated herself for not standing her ground. So many times had she successfully stopped herself from crossing those lines of no return. The night at the bar when she'd had a little too much to drink and imagined he was flirting shamelessly with her ... it had taken everything she had not to pounce on him like a horny teenager in that moment. Or that morning in the park after a grueling shift when, like so many times before, he'd teased her about how she had no chance of keeping up with him and she'd told him to shut up. His look and the teasing tone in his voice when he'd said make me had almost been enough to make her forget they were really just friends. Or the moment in the locker room when she'd been completely overwhelmed by the idea of ​​going out with Dash because she owed it to Kayla. It hadn't been entirely clear to her at the time, but when Neil had asked her what she'd wanted to say to Dash, it had occurred to her for the first time that Neil popped into her head far too often whenever she'd asked herself that question. She hadn't been used to someone being there for her the way he had, and when he'd told her she deserved to be happy, it was the first time she'd actually believed it herself. And for a moment, the absurd thought occurred to her that he was making her happy. Happier than anyone had in a long time. The thought was absurd and completely insane ... until she'd noticed his gaze. For a split second, she'd seen it - the chaos of emotions he usually hid beneath his professional mask or his cheeky remarks. And she thought maybe, just maybe, she could have kissed him right there and then and he would have let her. She didn't even know if she'd wanted to. Neil had become important to her and she knew how many problems he'd had with relationships in the past, how desperately he longed for more, for a partner who could give him what he deserved. And even if she didn't know a lot of things, she knew very well that that could never have been her. It was completely inconceivable that things between them wouldn't end in utter chaos. That in the end she wouldn't hurt him, like she had hurt everyone who tried to be close to her. And Neil deserved better.

That was exactly why she'd swallowed those feelings, even though it had become increasingly difficult. She'd suddenly attached far too much importance to brief touches and lingering glances; in the end, whether she wanted it or not, her thoughts always found their way back to him sooner or later. She'd fought so hard against the tension that existed between them whenever they were alone together. Against the feeling in the pit of her stomach when he said all those kind words to her that made her question their meaning late into the night, or when he looked at her in an unobserved moment as if he felt the same way about her. Claire was aware of the kind of feelings she'd developed for him, and perhaps that fact was even more frightening than the certainty that he was her boss. She wasn't the kind of person made for those kinds of feelings; she never had been, even though she'd once wanted nothing more than to be able to feel exactly what she felt now. She hadn't understood it before when all the books and movies talked about butterflies in her stomach, but suddenly she did. She'd only had that feeling once before, and that was with Jared. It had been different, in a way, maybe because it had made more sense with him than with Neil. But while everything with Jared had felt scarier since she'd developed those feelings, almost as if he was cornering her, this time it felt warmer. More like a refuge, not something she had to run away from. And that was what worried her. She probably needed to talk to her therapist about it again soon, but everything inside her resisted it. She'd already told Dr. Malkin that she had feelings for Neil in the last session; her opinion had been pretty clear. I don't think you're ready for a committed relationship yet. Considering the current emotional chaos that was keeping her from sleeping, she might actually had a point. And then, there wasn't really anything to tell, it was just a kiss, nothing more.

But oh, that kiss ... as if by reflex, she gently touched her lips with her fingertips, as if trying to remember the feeling of his lips on hers. But she still felt it - his warm breath on her skin, the tingling sensation his hands caused as they drew her closer, the way his mouth moved in perfect harmony with hers ... She closed her eyes; the mere memory made heat surge in her abdomen and her heart race. It was almost surreal, like an arousing dream she'd woken up from in the middle of the night, only to be disappointed to find it hadn't really happened. But it had happened; she'd done what they'd been dancing around for months. She wondered if he was thinking about it at that moment, too, longing to feel her again. Claire hadn't seen Neil since that moment in the staircase; from what she'd gathered, he'd been called in for another surgery. She hated the thought that after everything that had happened that evening, he would be up even longer than her. For a while, she'd considered waiting for him, helping out in the emergency room, and then going with him, but she'd quickly dismissed that idea. She didn't know what she should say to him, or what she wanted to say. The instinct to flee took over her completely, not only because she'd crossed the line they'd both established so clearly since the beginning of their friendship, but also because his reaction had frightened her so much. The tone of his voice, the way he'd looked at her ... not as if he regretted it, but still disturbingly distant. Had she been intrusive? Had she forced herself on him, taken advantage of a moment of weakness? But then she thought back to the moment when she'd approached him - he'd had all the time in the world to pull away, to remind her that what she was about to do was wrong. But even though he hadn't taken the initiative, he had let himself go just as she had, had pressed his body against hers, held her gently but firmly in his arms. It had felt as she had expected - like a sigh of relief, like release from too-tight bonds, like opening eyes after being closed for too long. She had felt it in the way he had responded to her. It hadn't been all one-sided. But why had he fled immediately afterward? Maybe because he was afraid of being hurt by her, just as she was afraid of hurting him. Claire could practically hear how her therapist would have reacted, what she had thought about her kissing him at such a moment. As always, she had used a man to make herself feel better. She could even understand why she might feel that way, which made it all the more plausible that Neil might think the same. He knew about her past with men - not in every detail, but enough to understand that she had numbed her pain with sex, sought the company of men to escape what was brewing inside her. Perhaps he suspected it was the same with him. All the fear and worry she had felt that evening had been enough to fill the next few therapy sessions, so it would have been understandable if Claire had fallen back into old patterns.

She sighed and rolled onto her side, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. This was different with Neil; he wasn't a coping mechanism. She didn't know why she had kissed him that night, of all nights, probably because she had been reminded again of how easy it would be to lose him. Because she had been forced to confront all of her feelings, feelings that she usually buried so deep inside that sometimes she really felt she could push them away for so long that they would eventually go away on their own. He had to know that. There was probably no one right now who understood her as much as he did, and yet ... What if she had ruined everything again? What if he turned away, like everyone she opened up to? Maybe she had been wrong after all, and he had only returned the kiss as a favor, so as not to hurt her feelings, or simply because he had been so taken aback.

 

Part of her was glad she had the day off; her body needed the rest. Just as she'd learned from Dr. Lim, Neil also had a day off, and she hoped he was using the time to recover from everything that had happened to him in the last few hours. The other part of her wished she could just go back to work and run into him, talk to him, and kiss him again. No, not kissing, just talking. Claire shook her head. Why couldn't she have just left things as they were? It was good the way things were. He'd been there for her, she'd been able to talk to him, they'd been able to spend time together. Her feelings and her thoughts had been entirely her own problem. Things shouldn't have become awkward between them just because she'd imagined what it would have been like to kiss him or sleep with him from time to time. That wasn't unusual; it probably happened quite often, especially among colleagues. She'd had these thoughts before, when there had been nothing between them, just professional distance and a healthy working relationship. Hell, even when she was dating Jared and Neil was engaged to Jessica, she'd thought about Neil from time to time when she was touching herself or having sex. Neil was an attractive man, even when he'd been nothing more to her than Dr. Melendez. Nothing about it had been complicated, and, typical Claire, she had to ruin it.

 

****

 

Her day off hadn't felt like that so much as an endless wait. She hadn't been able to sleep, at least not until late at night, and even then not without sleeping pills, which she usually avoided because they gave her headaches. She had tried going for a jog, but that had been just as unsuccessful. Sooner or later, her gaze still wandered to her phone, perhaps hoping that Neil would get in touch on his own, or perhaps to build up enough courage to call herself. She was glad to be back at work today and decided to arrive at the hospital a little early. She knew Neil was also scheduled for the afternoon shift, simply to give him some more rest, and she hoped that if she met him alone, he might talk to her and make the uneasy feeling in her stomach disappear.

And yet, as she walked through the hospital corridors now, her lukewarm coffee in her hands, she felt nervous. The last time she had been that nervous was before her first solo surgery. Her fingers gripped the cup a little too tightly, her heart pounding too fast against her ribcage, as if something bad were about to happen. How absurd. It was just Neil. She'd never really been nervous around him, even at the beginning of her residency, when he hadn't even bothered to let her speak, when her only job had been to watch. Sure, he had a certain respectful aura about him that had always given her a queasy feeling in the beginning whenever he actually wanted her opinion, but it had never been nervousness. How could she be nervous now, when she'd already seen his loving, fun side? She sighed in frustration as she walked into the Residents' Lounge. She was surprised she'd actually been the first one there; she had at least expected Shaun to be here. But he was probably still in Glassman's room, who was recovering from his surgeries. Claire sat down on one of the empty chairs and waited. Her fingers drummed restlessly on the table, her gaze fixed on the door. What would she even say when she saw him? 'Why did you just leave me standing there in the stairwell after I kissed you?' Or, 'Hello, Dr. Melendez, how are you today?' Or something in between? She hoped she wasn't stammering as nervously as she'd imagined she would at that moment. The last thing she wanted was to show him how insecure she was.

Claire almost jumped when she saw the figure enter the room out of the corner of her eye. But the next moment, she had to abandon all her plans when she realized it wasn't Neil who was coming, but Morgan. Claire slumped back into her seat, disappointed - she definitely wouldn't have the chance to speak to Neil infront of Morgan.

 

"Oh good, you're here. I thought you'd stay lost like the others." Claire frowned as Morgan plopped down in the chair next to her, a slight sigh escaping her lips.

 

"What do you mean? What about the others?" Morgan, who had been engrossed in her phone screen until a moment ago, frowned skeptically before leaning toward her.

 

"Park and Murphy both missed work. At least Park had the decency to call in sick, but Shaun just didn't show up. They're probably not answering their phones either," she said with a shrug, apparently unaware of how much this irritated Claire.

 

"What? But they're okay? I thought everyone was fine. What happened?" Morgan seemed to have noticed the worried tone in Claire's voice, because her features softened and she put her phone down.

 

"They're okay, I guess. I saw them both here at the hospital the morning after. They weren't hurt or anything. They are probably just taking a longer break. I mean, they looked pretty shaken up." Claire nodded absentmindedly, trying to remember the last time she'd seen them. She had seen Alex only once that evening, when he'd been busy with the boy who'd been trapped. She hadn't seen him again afterward, but admittedly, she hadn't paid any attention to him either. She'd seen Shaun again before leaving for the hospital; he didn't seem stressed, but like he was on adrenaline, nothing particularly weird.

 

"It's still weird that they just haven't shown up," she finally said, and Morgan hesitated for a moment before focusing on her phone again.

 

"Okay, yes, it's weird. But don't spiral. This is probably just Shaun processing trauma in his own ... Shaun way." Claire nibbled on her lip, trying to assess how much she should be worried about them. A sigh escaped her lips.

 

"What about Alex?" Morgan raised her eyes briefly, as if remembering something, before shrugging.

 

"I'm not sure. But one of the paramedics said he lost a patient at the scene, and it must have been pretty upsetting for him. I heard it was still just a child." Her voice was warm and sympathetic, but the next moment she wrinkled her nose. "Well, it's always worse with children anyway." Claire automatically thought of the boy she'd last seen Park with. A bad feeling spread in her chest as she remembered that she'd considered helping Alex with him, but then decided against it. She shook her head, unable to deal with it now. She'd had to make many decisions that evening, and whether they were right or wrong, she'd probably never know for sure.

 

"Aren't you worried about them?" For a moment, there was silence between them, and Claire glanced at Morgan to make sure she was still listening. Her face was almost completely motionless, except for the small crease between her eyebrows that she couldn't quite hide.

 

"Of course, I'm worried. I'm just not dramatic about it. It ruins the complexion." Claire groaned in annoyance. She could see in Morgan's face that it was affecting her more than she wanted to admit, and that alone was the reason she didn't give her the riot act. Morgan was the only one on the team who hadn't been there for at least a short time, hadn't seen the chaos with her own eyes - she had no right to form an opinion about it or to speak disparagingly about others.

But Claire knew Morgan fairly well by now and knew that there was more to her cold exterior than just the emotionless, spiteful monster she pretended to be. When Claire's mother died, Morgan had been the only one there for her, at least for one evening. She had helped her scatter her ashes, even though it was illegal and had seemed impossible. Claire was still grateful to her for that and she would certainly never forget that. For that reason alone, she always gave Morgan the benefit of the doubt when she acted anything but empathetic, as she did in this moment. Whatever the reason she was distancing herself from the situation, Claire decided not to confront her about it. As she had already noticed, people dealt with extreme situations differently, so maybe Morgan was right.

Alex probably just needed some time for himself after what had happened at the brewery. And Shaun ... well, she could only empathize with Shaun to a limited extent. It surprised her that he hadn't been with Glassman after his surgery; that was out of character. But she couldn't say what was going through Shaun's mind; it wasn't the first time he had simply stopped coming to work. She didn't have time to dwell on it any longer, because the next moment Neil walked through the door. Claire's heart immediately skipped a beat, only to then start beating even faster.

"Hello, Dr. Melendez," Morgan greeted him, and he glanced at her. For a split second, his eyes flickered in Claire's direction, so briefly that she probably wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't already been staring at him. "You seem to have seen better days," Morgan added, her voice cheeky.

She was right, he still looked worn out, although considerably better than the last time Claire had seen him. The wound on his head was already turning a little greener, his movements seemed a little more natural again. As Claire suspected, he was still on painkillers, his skin a little paler than usual, which further emphasized his dark circles under his eyes. But all in all, she had expected worse.

He placed his briefcase on the chair opposite them, skillfully ignoring Morgan's comment, and ran his hand over his face.

 

"Where are the others?" he asked, without taking his eyes off his bag. Claire didn't take her eyes off him; she was waiting for something. Anything. A meaningful look, perhaps some expression on his face, something that would show her that what had happened in the stairwell had actually happened. But he still gave her nothing.

 

"Missing in action." Morgan summed up briefly, causing Neil to raise his gaze and look at her questioningly. "They didn't come into work," she added with a shrug. For a brief moment, he didn't move before turning around with a sigh.

 

"I'll be right back," he mumbled as he pulled his phone from his pocket and disappeared into his office. Claire bit the inside of her cheek. He was acting normal. Too normal. Normally, it would have comforted her that he acted as if nothing had happened. The earthquake, his injuries, the endless night ... but he acted as if none of it had been real, not even the kiss. For a brief moment, Claire wondered if she hadn't simply gone crazy, maybe she had simply imagined the whole thing. But when he came back into the lounge, and with him the scent of his aftershave, she dismissed the thought immediately. She could still feel it clinging to her skin, even long after she had left the hospital. She could still feel the hands that had just slipped his phone into his pocket on her hip, on her neck, as clearly as if they had never left her body. A tingling sensation ran through her from head to toe as the memories crept back into her mind. "Looks like they won't be coming today," Neil said when he stood before them again, the tone of his voice slightly annoyed. He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. "Okay, you two have ER duty again today. I'll handle follow-up care for our patients." Morgan groaned in annoyance, but Neil was already reaching for his bag and turning around. "If you need anything, you know where to find me." And with that, he disappeared back into his office, leaving Claire frustrated. She had known that he wouldn't dare to dwell on what stood between them, especially in front of Morgan, but this was almost ridiculously cold. Not a single glance, not a checky comment, just Dr. Melendez. It was probably the right thing to do, but since he hadn't approached her yet, not even via text message or anything like that, it was driving her crazy. She had lain awake almost all night imagining how their conversation would end, how she would react if she faced him again, and, more importantly, how he would react. But this? This was just weird.

 

"Well, let's see if we have anything exciting to do today, huh?" Morgan murmured sarcastically as she stood up from her chair and headed for the door, grabbing her coffee mug. Claire hesitated for a moment, but decided to follow her without argument. She didn't want to be pushy either, at the risk of him simply doing her the favor of not bringing it up, even though it had clearly made him uncomfortable. Her steps slowed as she passed the open door of his office, and despite her efforts, she couldn't resist peeking inside. He was sitting far too naturally in front of his laptop, his brow slightly furrowed, his pose not tense but not relaxed either, his pen dancing between his fingers. He looked up for a moment when he noticed her standing in his doorway, and Claire involuntarily took a step back. An emotion flickered across his face, just for a split second, before he looked away and refocused on the screen. Claire's hands clenched into fists, her lips pressed tightly together, and she took a tiny step toward him before she could stop herself. But then she heard the laughter of a nurse or someone else in the distance and turned away again. It wasn't the right time yet. Even if she wanted to yell at him, to know what was going on in his head and how it was so easy for him to keep a neutral face after what had happened between them, she couldn't do it now. Not here, surrounded by people who already expected her to crawl back to him. She shook her head and headed for the emergency room; the distance from him would surely do her good, to clear her head and stop constantly thinking about how his lips had felt against hers.

 

****

 

„Bah, so boooring. I swear, I'd give up sex for the next three months if it meant a little action here." Morgan muttered, clicking her pen on the nurse's station. The noise was starting to drive Claire crazy, so she turned to her and gave her a disapproving look.

 

"Would you rather we had another natural disaster, just to keep you from being bored?" Claire had thought a lot about how much she'd longed for an exciting surgery or an interesting case, only for the night to end in an earthquake. She appreciated the calm that prevailed in the emergency room today. Morgan shrugged, unfazed.

 

"No, but I wouldn't exactly complain about someone with an unexplained illness," she replied sarcastically before rolling her eyes and leaning against the wall. "Even a damaged ankle would do it for me. Anything, really." Claire nodded and looked away. She could even understand her in a way. Even though she was grateful that there wasn't much going on after a nearly sleepless night, the quiet didn't necessarily make it easier to ignore her thoughts. "I wonder what's going to happen to Glassman now. He won't be able to operate anytime soon." Morgan changed the subject, getting Claire's full attention.

 

"Yeah, how bad was he injured? Do you know anything? Haven’t seen him since the brewery. Just talked to Andrews about it briefly." Morgan tilted her head.

 

"As suspected, his arm is broken in several places, as is his shoulder blade. He also has a concussion. So, if you ask me, he might as well retire. Recovering from that will take forever." Claire rolled her eyes.

 

"Well, it's a good thing no one asked you then." Morgan gave her a humorless laugh before sighing heavily and stretching extensively.

 

"Yeah, well. You know what they say ... dips!" she called suddenly, scurrying past Claire toward the entrance of the emergency room, where a young man was being wheeled in on a stretcher. Damn. Claire sighed and slumped back against the wall, pulling her phone out of her pocket. It wouldn't hurt if she asked Shaun herself if he was okay or when he planned to return to the hospital. She grimaced at the thought of being alone with Morgan for much longer. No wonder the shift dragged on so long when she had to work with such a ray of sunshine.

It took until the voicemail started until she realized that Shaun actually wasn't going to answer her call. Maybe she'd expected him to make an exception for her, but he didn't. She sighed, worry for him still present in the back of her mind. There were a million reasons why he might needed a break after an evening like this, but none of them seemed plausible enough to explain why Shaun, of all people, wouldn't be coming into work; Someone who would have been least affected by the events of all. Especially with Glassman still in the hospital, still recovering, she would have expected him to stay by his side.

Claire had almost put the phone back in her coat pocket when she decided to try for Alex. But that didn't work either; on the contrary - after the second beep, she was kicked out of the line. She furrowed her eyebrows but decided to wait until the next day before really getting involved.

The next moment, Nurse Solis called her, a young girl already waiting for her on one of the free beds. The girl's file was pressed into her hand as soon as she could stand next to her.

 

"Hey, ... Maya. I'm Dr. Browne." The girl smiled slightly. She was a little pale, but her smile was warm. Out of the corner of her eye, Claire noticed a woman standing next to the bed, chewing gum and keeping an eye on her phone. A bad feeling spread through her that she didn't want to acknowledge at that moment, so she cleared her throat instead. "You fainted at school today? How are you feeling now?" Maya nervously played with her light hair and shrugged.

 

"I'm better, I just felt a little dizzy." Claire nodded and took another look at the file before carefully examining the child. It had already been obvious from a distance that she was very petite, and for her age of fifteen, she was quite obviously too thin. Claire took another look at the woman she assumed was the girl's mother.

 

"Has this ever happened before?" she asked her, already knowing the answer from the files. The woman didn't look up immediately, and when she did, she rolled her eyes.

 

"Yes, every now and then. Coincidentally, always when an important test is due." Claire frowned, her gaze back on Maya. She felt the girl's tension, her eyes fixed on the blanket in front of her. It was as if she couldn't register the woman's words, but Claire saw it immediately. In the way she clenched her jaw, chewed her lip, and made herself as small as possible.

 

"Okay, Maya. I'd like to admit you. We'll run some tests to see if - "

 

"Is that really necessary?" her mother interrupted, and Claire gritted her teeth as she turned to her. "Like I said, Maya was just a little stressed. Her nerves must have gotten the better of her, that's nothing new." Claire's grip on her tablet tightened, her muscles tensing.

 

"With all due respect, Ms. Pearson, I can see that Maya has been admitted to the emergency room four times in the last six months because she fainted at school. Especially in children her age, this can have many different causes, which I would like to have investigated. We better know for sure." She forced out, swallowing the words that were still on the tip of her tongue when she noticed her slightly annoyed look. She gave Maya a slight smile before instructing the nurse to order all the necessary tests and to page her as soon as the results came back. With a heavy sigh, she returned to the nurses' station, where Morgan was already standing again, doing a crossword puzzle.

"Nothing interesting then?" she asked Morgan, less out of interest than out of politeness, before putting down her tablet.

 

"Nah. The guy completely shot himself up yesterday. Alcohol poisoning. He got an IV and that was it. Exciting." Claire chuckled slightly, even if she didn’t feel like it, and shoved her hands in her pockets. She couldn't get rid of the girl's gaze after her mother had spoken so badly about her. It triggered Claire in an unhealthy way. They had cases like this from time to time, the ones she found even harder to distance herself from than usual. Morgan was right, it was always worse with children. "What are you racking your brains about?" Morgan asked, chewing on her pen, without looking up from her puzzle. Claire watched her out of the corner of her eye, almost expecting another disparaging remark, but none came. For a brief moment, she considered simply being honest with Morgan about everything that was on her mind, but immediately decided against it. She could have talked to her about her patient, but everything inside her clenched at that thought. And the situation with Neil was an absolute taboo subject, especially for her, since Morgan had apparently been the first to see something Claire hadn't wanted to admit to herself. She wondered who she could possibly talk to about it and quickly realized there was absolutely no one she could confide in. Her go-to person was Shaun in most cases, but if she told him something, it would quickly make the rounds at the hospital, not because he would want to betray her, but because he would probably just blurt it out without seeing the underlying problem. The only other person she could talk to was ... well, the problem. It was hard to talk to Neil about Neil. At least when he shut down the way he did.

 

"It's a long day," she replied instead, sighing slightly, earning a sideways glance from Morgan.

 

"It is. But you're dodging the question." Claire slumped against the wall, her eyebrow raised skeptically.

 

“Why do you assume I’m dodging?”

 

“Because I’ve known you long enough to spot a Classic Browne Deflection. You’ve been doing that squinty stare thing all morning. It’s either deep thought or period cramps, and I haven't even seen you go to the bathroom at all today, so …“ Claire snorted, then turned serious for a moment.

 

"It's just ... weird. Everything's quiet, and it shouldn't be. A few days ago we were crawling through rubble, now everyone acts like nothing had happened." She muttered in frustration, knowing she wasn't just referring to the earthquake. Morgan hesitated.

 

"Yeah. The whiplash sucks." They sat with that for a beat, the air heavier than before. "Look, I'm not asking for a TED Talk on your feelings. But if you're going to implode, maybe just ... give me a heads-up. I've seen enough trauma for the week." Her voice was sarcastic, but when her gaze met Claire's, it was serious and, in a way, warm.

 

"I'm not going to implode." Claire murmured softly, and Morgan studied her for a second, her eyes flickering all over her face. A gentle look crept onto her face - an expression Claire had rarely seen in Morgan.

 

"I didn't say you would, just ..." She sighed slightly. "You're not the only one still coming down from it." Claire gave her a skeptical look, probably also surprised. She would have expected this kind of honesty from everyone, but not from Morgan, at least not at that moment. But she saw it in her eyes, vulnerability. As if the events had affected her too. For a brief moment, Claire considered asking her about it, finding out how she had experienced the evening, but decided against it. It wasn't that she wasn't interested, but a part of her resisted going back to that night, seeing what it had been like for others, how many losses there had been on that side. Instead, she nodded slightly, a smile twitching across her lips, and Morgan returned it somewhat hesitantly. In a strange way, this side of Morgan felt familiar, like a safe space in a way. Claire remembered the last time she'd felt so connected to her, when she'd let her see behind her cold exterior. Then, when she'd least expected it but needed it most, Morgan had been there for her, suddenly she was more than just an annoyed expression or a sharp comment. She'd been a friend.

 

"Do you want to go get something to eat? I'm starving." Claire asked, even though she wasn't really in the mood for food. However, she had time to wait until her patient's tests came back. Morgan agreed, and they spent a small part of the afternoon in the cafeteria. A calm descended upon Claire that she hadn't expected that day. For a while, she'd managed to switch off, to think about nothing but what Morgan was telling her. It hadn't been earth-shattering, not even important, but it was what she needed. And as euphoric as Morgan had been about every article she was talking about, no matter how boring, it occurred to Claire that maybe she felt the same way. They strolled back to the emergency room, without any urgency, without a thought for how many hours of their shift were left. Claire even found herself laughing profusely, just for a brief, almost inconspicuous moment. She almost didn't notice him, but then she did.

Neil was standing by the patient board, flipping through a file with a concentration that felt … too forced, like he wasn’t really reading anything. His back was stiff, shoulders held like he hadn’t quite learned to relax them again. Claire slowed instinctively, just enough for Morgan to notice. Neil didn’t look up at first. But then he did. He turned just enough to scan the hallway - and for a second, his eyes met hers. Claire felt something in her chest tighten. Not the dizzy, breathless thing from that night in the staircase, this was quieter, heavier. Neil’s gaze held hers for a moment longer than it needed to. She wasn't exactly sure what she saw in it. He'd been wearing the professional mask for so long that she could hardly see behind it anymore. He wrinkled his nose and looked almost as if he were considering coming to her, saying something, finally breaking this oppressive silence. Then he looked away, nodding to a nurse, stepping aside, already moving. She watched him disappear into Exam Room 3.

 

"We shouldn't be surprised there's so little going on today. When even the doctors are walking around like patients ... " Morgan muttered. Claire blinked, a little too slowly, coming back to reality.

 

"What?" Morgan nodded toward the door in which Neil had just disappeared.

 

"Melendez. He's completely stiff." She tilted her head slightly. „Acts like he wasn't almost killed. There's something chivalrous about it.“ Morgan chuckled slightly as she watched after him, apparently not noticing how everything inside Claire was shrinking. Claire stayed quiet, jaw tight. Morgan arched a brow. “You worked the quake with him, right?” Claire nodded once. Morgan's features softened, for a brief moment. “He get banged up worse than he let on?” Claire hesitated, the lump in her throat as present as it had been that night. The worst part was that she didn't even know how he was. He was fine, or so he had said, and under the circumstances, it had seemed like he was. But that was before his body had even settled, and Claire knew that only then would the true extent of the pain and injury have really sunk in. He certainly wouldn't be completely fine, considering his stiff posture and strained expression. But he wouldn't talk to her about it, and she certainly wouldn't be able to just ask him, and that was what made a small part of her break. She couldn't help herself; she worried.

 

“He got hit. Took a beam to the head. Still refused to stop working,” she finally replied, almost bitterly, her lips tightly pressed together.

 

“Of course he did,” Morgan muttered. “Hero complex comes standard with that jawline.” That almost made Claire chuckle, but she swallowed it back, shoving her hands in her coat pockets and sighed. Morgan shook her head. "It's weird that he still comes to work and the others are still just taking days off. We all have different priorities, I guess." Claire snorted slightly before starting to walk again. Morgan followed immediately, but her brow was still furrowed. Claire had also expected, or at least hoped, that Neil would take a few days off, or at least take it easy. But she wasn't surprised that he didn't.

 

"Yeah, but there are limits. You should have seen the bruise on his stomach. I bet that hurts like hell. The cut on his head isn’t any better." Morgan raised an eyebrow, a slight smile creeping onto her lips, but for a moment she said nothing, as if unsure whether to comment or not. But shortly after, her gaze landed on Claire, who returned it skeptically. "What?" Claire asked, as Morgan continued to look at her expectantly.

 

"How come you saw him shirtless?" Claire rolled her eyes, but took a moment to answer.

 

"I examined him, Morgan." Morgan grinned slightly and nodded absentmindedly, finally taking her eyes off Claire.

 

"I'm sure of it. And you certainly didn't risk a glance of his body for yourself and your fantasies." Claire felt the blood rush to her cheeks and her heart rate involuntarily quicken, but tried not to let it show. Even if Morgan was only joking, as her expression suggested, Claire was still aware of who she was talking to and that she'd rather give her too little than too much. While she didn't think Morgan was still worried that Neil favored her - they'd spent a lot of time deflecting suspicion so the rumors would finally stop over the past few weeks  - she still didn't want to give her any reason to think like that again. Especially not when Claire hadn't been able to think about anything other than his kiss all day. That would certainly seem more than just ... unprofessional.

 

"No, I didn't. Find your drama elsewhere, Morgan." To her surprise, her voice was much more convincing than she'd expected, and so Morgan finally just nodded, not quite as if she believed her, but as if she didn't want to provoke an argument. It had been an exceptional situation they'd found themselves in, adrenaline and fear taking over. So when she'd looked at his injuries, there hadn't been anything unprofessional, romantic or sexy about it. It couldn't have been, not in a situation like this. And yet ... Claire hadn't been able to deny that she'd noticed how toned his body was. And as soon as the confusion and fear had subsided a little, the memories of the sight had returned to her. Not in a sexual way, not in a way that made her heart race or heat spread in her lower body. She had simply noticed it. And probably liked it, if she were honest. She had imagined what he looked like under his clothes more often than she liked; she had already gotten little hints of it when she had met him privately - when they had gone jogging together and his tight top had wrapped itself around his muscles like a second skin. She had always known that he had a toned body and that probably no woman would push him off the edge of her bed. She certainly wouldn‘t.

 

"Well, I would have." Morgan finally replied with a cheeky grin, and Claire's gaze automatically flicked to her, almost expecting to see some sign on her face that she was making fun of her again. But there was none. "What? He's attractive. You can't have me arrested for looking." Claire hesitated for a moment, not quite sure how to process this information, but then just nodded slightly before looking away.

 

"We really need to get you some work to clear your head of all this nonsense." Morgan just chuckled at her reply, but said nothing more. By now, they'd returned to the emergency room, which was as empty as when they'd left. She made a sweeping gesture across the room.

 

"Work, where are you?" Claire gave her a half-hearted smile as she grabbed a tablet to check the results. She sighed.

 

"I'm worried about my patient," she finally admitted, biting her lip. A few results had already been updated. Morgan leaned toward her and glanced at her tablet, but raised an eyebrow.

 

"Why, what is it? Anything interesting?" Claire shook her head.

 

"I'm not sure yet. It's more the circumstances that concern me. She's clearly underweight and was admitted because she fainted. Her mother seems rather unconcerned. Wouldn't you notice if your child wasn't eating enough?" Morgan gave her a skeptical look. For a moment, she said nothing, considering how to respond before shrugging.

 

"It could just as easily be an illness, you don't know yet. And her mother won't be able to control a sickness she doesn’t know anything about." Claire furrowed her eyebrows, her fingernails digging into her palm.

 

"No, she wouldn‘t, but I'm just saying, if my child looks like she's starving, I probably wouldn't wait until she collapses to take her to the doctor." Morgan studied her features and finally sighed.

 

"Well, if you think something's wrong, then just call Child Protective Services or social workers. But honestly, you need more than that and your anger at mothers in general." Claire ran her hand through her hair and suppressed an annoyed groan. She hated being misunderstood or not taken seriously. It wasn't that she wanted to be right, but her intentions were usually correct. The oppressive feeling that had spread within her and hadn't gone away since she had spoken to the mother was also a clue for her. Certainly, she was more likely to be skeptical than others when it came to trusting guardians, but from experience, this had been more helpful than not.

 

****

 

It hadn't taken long for the rest of the results to come back, and they had given her cause for concern. She hadn't spoken to Maya or her mother yet, unsure of the best way to approach this. She needed a second opinion. So now she stood outside his office, clutching her medical records a little tighter than probably necessary, hesitating. The opinion on her patient was the perfect excuse to talk to him without being intrusive. Still, it was quite obvious he was avoiding her, and she wasn't quite sure how to handle that. Nonetheless, he was still her boss, and he'd offered it himself. If you need anything, you know where to find me. Claire took another deep breath, ignoring the nervous pounding of her heart, and knocked on the door. It only took a few seconds before he invited her in.

As soon as she opened the door a crack, his gaze lifted from the paperwork in front of him. His jaw was obviously tense, and his gaze lingered on her a little too long for it to be insignificant.

"Dr. Browne, is there anything I can help you with?" he asked before looking back down. Claire knew that tone in his voice inside and out. The one he used when he wanted to keep things strictly professional and there was no room for anything personal. It had become less frequent for him to speak to her like that, but it had never completely stopped. When he felt she was crossing a line, or considered the conversation over, or didn't want any of her colleagues to overhear, he would use that tone to shut the conversation down. In that moment, Claire wondered if he was doing it for her or for his own sake. She stepped inside, wondering whether or not to close the door, but ultimately decided against it. The tension that had consumed her body since she'd entered his office kept her from wanting to be in an enclosed space with him.

 

"Yes ... I have a patient and I could use your advice.“ Neil nodded slightly, his eyes flickering up for a brief moment before lowering again. He didn't respond, so she took another step toward him. "A fifteen-year-old girl was admitted today after fainting at school. Her blood tests show severe electrolyte imbalances, and she has bradycardia probably caused by malnutrition." Neil raised his gaze and leaned back in his chair. "I suspect she's suffering from anorexia; her body seems to be slowly giving up." He held out his hand without changing his expression, and Claire pushed the file toward him. "If she doesn't get medical intervention, she could suffer cardiac arrest." Neil's eyebrows furrowed as he ran through the tests before running his hand over his face. He paused for a long moment.

 

"She's fifteen. Who's with her?" Claire hesitated for a brief second, which Neil seemed to notice immediately, as he raised his eyebrow.

 

"Her mother. But she's downplaying the seriousness of the situation." Neil stayed still longer than necessary, his gaze returning to the files.

 

"She's a minor, so her treatment requires parental consent." Claire nodded hesitantly, but bit her tongue to swallow the words that were trying to force their way out.

 

"She's a high-risk patient. We should act as soon as possible." She managed through gritted teeth, and Neil just nodded before catching her eye.

 

"I agree. I'll look into her case a bit more and then get back to you." Claire nodded, holding his gaze longer than necessary, hoping to see behind his mask, but his face remained motionless. Her gaze flickered to his lips as if by reflex. It seemed so surreal how cold he was towards her, remembering how he'd pressed his mouth against hers - gentle and demanding. She swallowed hard. "Anything else I can help you with?" Claire almost flinched before shaking her head. Neil had already averted his gaze, and she turned to leave. But her steps were heavy and slow, as if her body didn't agree with her decision to leave. She cleared her throat and turned around again.

 

"How are you?" she asked, her voice warm but a little uncertain. Neil lifted his gaze, and for the first time that day, she felt she saw something like understanding in it, not just the cold wall he was using to keep her at arm's length.

 

"I'm feeling better. I'm taking it easy and I'll be fine." Claire nodded. "It looked worse than it was. But I appreciate you looking out for me." The answer was more honest than all the times she'd asked him before, and it calmed her in a way, because now she believed his words. He was still looking at her, not expecting, but questioning, perhaps even a little cautiously. Claire's heart beat a little faster, her teeth digging into the flesh of her inner cheek. She didn't know if she wanted to talk to him, to know his answers. But the silence was driving her crazy. She took a heavy breath.

 

"Look ... I'm sorry if I crossed a line or made you uncomfortable. I just ... " The words caught in her throat, and she swallowed the heavy lump that almost made breathing impossible. Neil studied her for a moment, an emotion flickering in his eyes again before he cleared his throat.

 

"There's nothing to be sorry for." Claire's breath caught, but she didn't know how to interpret those words. He didn't bother to elaborate; his gaze remained neutral, except for the slight twitch of the corner of his mouth, almost hinting at a smile. But the way he'd said it seemed conclusive, as if the subject was closed for him. His words had been warm, reassuring, but not in a 'don't be sorry you kissed me, I enjoyed it just as much as you did,' way, but in an 'it's okay, we won't talk about it anymore' way. Claire felt torn, unsure of what to feel. But it was her ego that spoke up first. She felt ashamed. Ashamed because she'd hoped for more, because she'd thought he'd own up to what had happened between them. But he didn't. She nodded heavily before turning around again. Her heart was pounding so hard in her throat that she felt like it was about to burst out of her mouth. She wanted to get away from there as quickly as possible.

"Claire ..." she heard suddenly and stopped dead. There was more emotion in that one word than she had heard from him all day. She almost didn't dare turn around, but a part of her - was it hope or naivety? - forced her to glance at him. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his eyes reflecting warmth and something else Claire didn't recognize. His mouth was slightly open; she could almost hear him thinking. He hesitated before pressing his lips tightly together, as if to keep the words from falling out. His hand slowly stroked his chin before he cleared his throat and looked away again. "Close the door on your way out." He didn't say another word, but for Claire, that had already been enough. She could sense that he was holding himself back from talking openly with her, but why, she wasn't entirely sure. He probably didn't want to hurt her or her feelings. Maybe there was a completely different reason, but she was sure she wouldn't get it out of him, and she certainly wouldn't embarrass herself and confront him again.

So she just nodded slightly and left his office without another word, resigning herself to trying to forget everything that had happened between them.

 

---

 

Notes:

Well, I guess I can't live without angst, lol.

We had a little insight in claires mind and of course - she is overthinking. Who wouldn't in her situation?

Don't worry, we will find out what's going on his head soon enough ;)

Hope you still enjoy ❤️‍🩹

Chapter 5: The things we don't say

Notes:

Hi guys! Hope you had an awesome week. 🤗
This one abit sooner, I just don’t have time tomorrow :)

 

I wanted to mention something since I noticed something while writing. Obviously, the characters in the show got not enough attention, so we didn't get to see toooo much of their characters. But I do feel like there is alot of depth to them, they are very multi-layered people and this is something I want to focus on in this ff. So, their might be times where you can't really relate with the characters or don't understand where they are coming from. But it will all make sense in the bigger picture. We aren't just the one or the other, nothing is always just black or white - we are always something in between, right?☺️ so, please don't hate one of them if you don't understand something yet 😬🐢

 

---

 

There was basically never any room for privacy in the hospital. Claire had known that long before she kissed Neil Melendez. Long before she decided she wouldn’t try again. Because if someone was stupid enough to cross that line, it never ended well. She had already noticed this when Dr. Coyle’s extremely suggestive comments to her ultimately led to Jared being fired. That probably wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t been sleeping together at the time. She had also noticed it when Dr. Melendez and Dr. Lim made out in front of her in the ER and a short time later had such a falling out due to professional differences that they split up. She had noticed it when she repeatedly felt her heart racing when she and Dr. Melendez operated together or worked on a case together. With all the feelings that had no place in the hospital, it seemed almost impossible to maintain boundaries. And now she was back in a situation where she wished she'd never shared all her personal life within the walls of the hospital. Because now she had to live with the consequences - with the uneasy feeling in her stomach as soon as her alarm went off in the morning. With the thoughts that told her she should just call in sick, just so she wouldn't have to go to work, so she wouldn't have to face him. With the insomnia, with the racing thoughts ... she hated it. The hospital had become her home, more so than her own apartment ever could have been. She had been happy every day when she could go to work; even the overtime hadn't bothered her. The people she saw there every day had become her friends, a family she'd never had. And now, the worst part was the sudden distance from Neil. It was strange to feel so estranged from him again, after all the intense time of the last few months, when they had inexplicably found each other far too quickly. It was as if they had had their own language, one they themselves had never understood, but had spoken again and again. And now it had become silent around him and what they could have been. It hadn't even been 24 hours since she had last seen him, but even then, nothing remained of the familiarity that had connected her to him. His face was like a map she could no longer read. It wasn't even that it particularly hurt her that nothing more serious had developed from the kiss - even if she had wanted it to, she had known deep down how absurd it would've been. There had been countless moments that she had been certain had been signs that he felt something for her too, but she had probably misinterpreted them. What she missed so painfully was his closeness, his understanding. The way he had made her feel as if she had mattered, as if there would always be someone who would listen to her. Sure, she still had one or two people she could confide in, at least with some things. But it wasn't the same; no one had understood her the way he had. She hated it. She hated that she had to work, that she had to see him, and be reminded that they would never be more than what they were - resident and attending.

She kept her head down as she walked into the conference room, lab coat crisp, stethoscope already slung over her shoulders. Part of her had hoped that Alex or Shaun would have been back by now, just to bring some levity back to the situation, but she realized that she and Morgan were still the only ones who had shown up for work. Dr. Lim had called an emergency meeting to do the scheduling herself - Dr. Glassman was also out, which meant each of them would have to work overtime. Claire sighed slightly and leaned back in her chair. Lim was talking, handing out assignments, and Claire nodded along, scribbling notes, not once looking at the other side of the table. She didn’t have to. She could feel him there.

“Dr. Browne, you’ll do rounds. Then you’re with Dr. Melendez – you’ll be working together on a new consult. Room 408.” Claire didn’t flinch. That felt like progress. Even though everything in her rebelled against working with him, she still hoped for a bit of normality. If they had at least that - the professional barrier with which they had at least partially been able to work - the events in the stairwell might soon be forgotten. Perhaps soon it would be possible to laugh about it together, about the misinterpreted feelings that could sometimes arise on a night like this. She caught Neil's eye for a half-second, just long enough for him to look away. She didn't even particularly care; she had already resigned herself to the fact that he would brush her off again and again in the near future, so she had no more expectations. She just wanted to get through the day.

 

****

 

Claire was caring for the patients and was probably taking more time than usual. She did a routine check-up on Maya and was concerned to note that there had been no change in her condition, nor in her mother's behavior. She gritted her teeth and focused solely on the facts for now - Dr. Melendez hadn't contacted her again about the case, but she'd heard he was consulting with Dr. Lim. It made her nervous, as she wanted to act as quickly as possible, but since she hadn't noticed any deterioration, she accepted it for now and moved on to her next patient. Someone, who she was very happy to see.

Claire knocked lightly before pushing the door open with her shoulder, a tablet cradled in one hand. The room was dim, only the pale daylight filtering through the half-closed blinds and the TV mounted in the corner played some news rerun on mute.

„How are you feeling?“ Glassman looked smaller than usual, tucked under the hospital blanket with his left arm in a sling and a thick bandage peeking out from beneath his hairline. But the familiar glint in his eyes was still there when he saw her.

 

“Well,” he said, voice dry. “Guess I’m not dead yet.” Claire smiled, grateful for the normalcy of sarcasm.

 

“Not even close. But I heard you gave the nurses a run for their money last night.” He grunted.

 

“They poked me six times trying to find a vein. I told them I’m not a pincushion.” She approached the bed, tapping through his chart. Vitals looked fine. Labs steady.

 

“Shoulder’s holding up,” she said. “No signs of neuro deficits. You’re lucky.”

 

“Yeah. Real lucky,” he muttered, but there was no bite to it. Just tiredness beneath the words. Claire hesitated a moment longer than necessary before setting the tablet aside. Something about the way he looked at her made Claire's stomach lurch. Glassman had been lucky, as had Neil, but it was strange seeing him like this. Even though she and Glassman had never been particularly close, she still felt important to him. But she was pretty sure he could make anyone feel that way, just with his presence, with his warm charisma. Claire had always liked him. His big heart was practically written all over his face. That he was lying in this dark room now, hurt, alone and probably just completely messed up ... it broke her heart a little.

 

“Do you mind if I just … sit for a sec?” she asked, smiling softly. Glassman blinked, then shrugged with his good shoulder.

 

“It’s your shift.” She took the chair next to the bed, hands clasped in her lap. Silence settled between them, not uncomfortable, exactly, but weighted. After a minute, she looked at him.

 

“Has Shaun been by?” Glassman didn’t answer right away. He adjusted the blanket with his free hand, staring past her to the muted TV.

 

“No.” Her breath caught. She looked down, then back up, trying to sound neutral.

 

“I haven’t seen him at the hospital since the brewery. He’s not answering calls.”

 

“I know,” Glassman said. His voice was still calm, but there was something under it, something sharp and quiet. Claire bit her lip.

 

“I keep thinking maybe he just needed space. But it’s been days.” Glassman finally looked at her. His gaze wasn’t cutting or impatient - it was steady. Careful. She'd seen that look on his face a thousand times, and the reason had always been the same. Shaun. Claire had always been fascinated by their relationship, by such unconditional love that transcended blood and genes. She'd never experienced that love herself, but she was grateful that Shaun did, that he'd found someone who would commit to him the way Glassman did, time and time again.

 

“He shuts down sometimes,” he said. “Goes into his own head. Always has. Doesn’t mean he’s not okay.”

 

“You really believe that? That he’s okay?” Claire asked. He gave her a look then, one she couldn’t quite read.

 

“I want to.“ She nodded slowly, watching the way his fingers twitched against the edge of the blanket. She didn’t press him. Didn’t need to. Because even if his words tried to reassure her, his silence had already told her the truth. Glassman was worried, too. She let out a soft breath and leaned back in the chair, arms loosely folded.

 

“I keep thinking about this one night. Early on, maybe our second month working together. It was one of those awful shifts. We lost a patient. I was just … done.” Glassman didn’t interrupt. He watched her quietly, like he knew whatever was coming had been sitting in her chest a long time. “I went out to the balcony. Thought I was alone. And Shaun showed up ten minutes later. He didn’t say anything. He just stood next to me. Close, but not too close.” She smiled faintly at the memory. “I told him I didn’t want to talk, and he said, ‚Okay. I don't want to talk either.‘ And then he stood there for twenty-seven minutes. Didn’t check his watch, didn’t look bored. Just … stayed.” Glassman’s eyebrows rose slightly.

 

“Twenty-seven minutes?”

 

“Yeah,” Claire said, her smile tugging wider for a moment. “I asked him later why he stayed so long, and he said, ‘Because you were sad for at least that long.’” Glassman blinked, then gave a short, quiet chuckle.

 

“That’s Shaun,” he murmured. Claire looked down at her hands.

 

“I didn’t know how to thank him for that. I still don’t. But it meant something. It meant a lot.” It had meant a lot to her, and not just because it had been so unexpected. It had meant a lot to her because she and Shaun hadn't even really admitted to each other, and she had never really been able to understand him. He was always a little different, always special. And that's how it had felt in that moment. She didn't know exactly what it had been, maybe just the fact that she had needed something or someone, and he had sensed it in his own way.

 

“You mean something to him, too.” Glassmans voice was softer now, a smile playing around his lips. Claire didn’t answer right away. She just sat in that quiet space, knowing Glassman saw her worry even when she tried to hide it. Knowing he shared it, somehow, that helped. She leaned forward a little, elbows on her knees.

 

“I don’t know if he even remembers that night. Or if it meant anything to him.” She said with a humorless laugh. Glassman exhaled through his nose, like he was weighing something.

 

“He remembers. Trust me.” She looked at him, unsure. “I’ve known Shaun a long time,” he went on, his voice gentler now. “He’s not good at pretending. If he didn’t care, you’d know.” Claire gave a soft, tired laugh.

 

“That’s kind of what worries me. What if he does care, and he still can’t reach out?” Glassman was quiet for a moment.

 

“He might not know how.” Claire met his eyes again, something raw flickering behind hers. She wondered if Shaun was worried too - about her, or about Glassman. She couldn't imagine him not caring, but she suspected he'd be quite obvious if he were worried. When Glassman was diagnosed with the brain tumor, he hadn't been able to focus on anything else, not even work. She wondered what it could be this time that was keeping him from sitting by his side. “You’ve been good for him,” Glassman said, not in a grand or dramatic way, just stating it like a fact. “Better than most people ever were. You don’t talk down to him. You don’t coddle him. You push him, but you’re kind. He needs that.” Claire blinked, caught off guard by the weight of it. “I think he looks to you more than you realize,” Glassman added. “You’ve been … steady, when things get hard for him and that’s what he needs more than anything.” Warmth spread through her body, a small smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. She hadn't known Glassman saw her that way. Her relationship with Shaun was special, to her and very likely to him as well. She'd already noticed that he confided in her more than anyone else. It was a comforting feeling, that he saw something in her that gave him strength, comfort. And for a small, almost intangible moment, the thought occurred to her that maybe she did know what unconditional love felt like.

She didn’t know what to say to that. So she didn’t say anything at all. But something settled in her chest then, something that had been restless and anxious for days. Not gone, not fixed. But steadier. She glanced toward the window, then back to Glassman.

 

“If he’s not back by tomorrow,” she said quietly, “I’m going to look for him.” Glassman nodded.

 

“Good.”

 

****

 

Claire spent a few more minutes with Glassman, distracting him from the boring hospital routine, before heading off again. Talking to him had done her a surprising amount of good. For the first time in days, she hadn't felt alone or overwhelmed. But the uneasy feeling in her stomach returned as soon as she finished doing rounds and headed to her new patient's room. She could already see Neil from a distance and had to admit that a part of her had been relieved when she noticed he looked healthier than the day before, more rested and less stiff. There is something chivalrous about it, she repeated Morgan's words in her head, grimacing slightly. There was a certain truth to it - his injuries, the way he still strode confidently through the hospital corridors, painted a picture close to that of a hero. Of course, she wouldn't dream of even remotely mentioning this to Neil; his ego would definitely take it too seriously, and she'd never hear the end of it. And that thought made her consider, for a brief moment, maybe doing it after all, just hoping to catch a glimpse of his crooked smile. Instead, she straightened her back and cleared her throat as she caught up with him.

"Dr. Melendez," she said as she passed, and he followed without even looking at her.

The patient in Room 408 was a little girl, nine years old, thin and pale against the stark white sheets. Her mother stood at the bedside, arms crossed tightly, eyes bouncing between Claire and Neil as they entered. Claire smiled gently.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Browne. This is Dr. Melendez. We’re part of the surgical team that’ll be helping with your care.” The girl, Emily, offered a faint nod. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

 

“Is it bad?” Claire's chest tightened, the girl's small, fragile voice sent a shiver down her spine. She moved to her side, picking up the chart from the end of the bed.

 

“We’re still running tests, but we’ll talk everything through with you, okay? No surprises.” Neil stepped in beside her, keeping his focus on the vitals monitor.

 

“How long have you had the abdominal pain?” His tone was clipped. Detached.

 

“Couple of days,” Emily mumbled. Claire glanced over, waiting for him to say more, but he didn’t.  She took over.

 

“Any nausea? Fever?” Emily nodded slowly. Her mother chimed in with more details - days missed from school, a loss of appetite, some weight loss. Claire asked follow-ups, her voice calm, steady. Neil remained silent, occasionally jotting down notes or murmuring a quick “Hmm.”

They weren’t a team. Not today. They were two people trying very hard not to be anything at all.

 

Claire was glad when he left her alone while she waited for the test results. She hated how uncomfortable she suddenly felt around him and how little he seemed to care. There were probably a thousand things she wanted to say to him - many of them important, but others just casual thoughts she would never normally have spoken. She wondered if it would ever become less awkward. In a different situation, she certainly would have avoided the whole thing; she never stayed long enough to face the consequences of her decisions. And sometimes the decision was taken away from her anyway. When things had gotten awkward with Jared, he had left, and even though everything in her had resisted it, not wanting to see him go, it had helped her deal with the situation, or rather, helped her avoid the situation. It was strange with Jared; she had never wanted to let him get close to her, always keeping a certain emotional distance from him to protect herself. Or to protect him. But when he left, it had hurt, and she had regretted how she had treated him when he still thought their relationship was worth fighting for. She had realized it too late, though she didn't know if it would have changed anything if it hadn't been that way. It was a pattern she was having a hard time breaking - it had been the same with her mother. Even though she had given her far more reason to be cautious about getting close to her, it had essentially been the same as with Jared. Claire had pushed her away as far as she could, and yet in the end, she still regretted it. Her mother had caused her nothing but heartache in her life, and yet, at the end of the day, she wished she could turn back time and talk to her again. About all the things left unsaid, about all the wasted time, about love that had been so much colder than it had any right to be. She knew she was doing the same thing now, running away. Sure, Neil had pushed her away, but so had everyone else before him, and maybe he was the one worth fighting for. Claire was scared, she couldn't deny that. He'd hurt her, and she still didn't fully understand why. And even her therapist would probably advise her to get over it and try to talk to him again. Address your needs specifically, say what you feel and what you expect from him. And she was right; she certainly wouldn't get the answers any other way, but how easy was it to break out of old patterns?

She heard the door close behind her, soft but definitive. She didn’t need to look up to know it was him, his presence changed the shape of the room. Claire kept her focus on the monitor. The scan was still open, she was looking at it like she hadn’t done it the last few minutes. She could hear the rustle of papers, the quiet scuff of his shoes against the tile, but she didn’t acknowledge him. “The CT shows a localized abscess,” she said, voice steady and detached. “Lower right quadrant. If it were classic appendicitis, we would’ve seen sharper onset. This ... doesn’t match the timeline.” He didn’t respond right away. Just moved closer. Too close. She hated the way her body reacted to him, with her heart racing and her throat getting dry. She wanted to appear casual, like him, as if his proximity didn't bother her, as if nothing had happened between them. For a brief moment she closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

 

“You think it started earlier?” His voice was quiet. Controlled. But there was a rasp under the smoothness that made her chest tighten against her will. She kept her arms crossed, as if that would hold her together.

 

“I think she tried to ignore it. Thought it was something else. Slow leak, maybe.” Claire lifted one hand to gesture to the scan, brushing the edge of the screen. He leaned in to look. His hand reached out at the same time. Their fingers touched, just a brush of skin. Not even deliberate. But it was enough. Neither of them moved for a second. The contact was nothing, and somehow it felt like so much more. His touch had always felt like this lately - important, too warm. But this time, there was something else about it; it felt heavier, oppressive. The soft tingling in her stomach that his touch usually triggered was now overshadowed by a tugging in her stomach, as if every brief second of their bodies touching was too much. Claire pulled her hand back first, quick but not abrupt, as if it meant nothing. As if she didn’t feel the pulse in her wrist hammering from that short, ridiculous touch.

 

“You’re right,” Neil said after a beat, voice lower now. She nodded once.

 

“We should go laparoscopic. Minimize trauma.”

 

“Agreed.” Another silence. But not the kind she could pretend was comfortable. This one was thick with things unsaid, charged, restless. Like the space between them was holding its breath. Claire didn’t trust herself to stay in it. Even though a small part of her still had hope that he would break his silence, the unease prevailed. She clicked the file closed, still not looking at him.

 

“Let me know if you want me on the surgery.“ There was a finality in her tone. She heard it. She wondered if he did. Neil said nothing. Claire turned to go. As she stepped past him, the sleeve of her coat brushed his arm. Another small, accidental touch, they both froze. Just for a second. He didn’t step back. He didn’t say anything. But she could feel him watching her.

 

“Claire,” he said, and her name with his voice felt like something unraveling. She paused with her hand on the doorframe, staring at the seam where wall met glass, avoiding looking at him.

 

“Yeah?” she asked, quiet but even. She waited. But whatever he’d meant to say dissolved into the stillness between them. Coward. Claire nodded to herself once, small and walked out. She didn’t let herself look back.

Claire knew Neil well, probably far too well for the short time they had grown close. That's why she knew he wasn't really cold and distant towards her for no reason. There were things he wanted to say, words he wanted to hear. But something was holding him back, and she couldn't yet say for sure what it was. At first, she had thought he wanted to protect her, to pretend none of this had happened because they both knew there was no future. That he simply didn't want to hurt her by telling her he thought it was inappropriate for her to cross the line they had drawn so clearly. But that line hadn't been that clear in a long time, always blurred by a look that lingered too long or by words that sounded too meaningful. There had been those moments again and again when she was sure he'd only been waiting for her to take that first step, to give her the freedom to make that decision herself. Although they had repeatedly convinced themselves and the people around them that these boundaries existed, they both knew the truth, she was certain of that. There were lines between them, but it hadn't been a question of whether they would be crossed, but rather of who would cross them first. She hadn't taken this step alone; even if she had initiated it, it had been Neil who had drawn her to him, who had put the passion into the kiss that she herself had been too careful for. It had been his touches that had taken her breath away, his lips that had made her body tremble. She knew Neil. And she was pretty sure that if he didn't tolerate her behavior, if what had happened between them had been something he didn't like, he would have simply said it openly. That couldn't be the reason; the only question that remained was what was going on in his head.

She exhaled through her nose and sat down slowly, her scrub pants rustling against the bench. One hand braced on her knee, the other rolled into a fist like she hadn’t quite let go of the doorframe back in the room with Neil.

Claire …

He’d said her name like it hurt to say it. Like he didn’t want to, but couldn’t help himself. She blinked hard. There was nothing dramatic in what had just happened. No argument. No confession. Just a brush of fingers and a silence that echoed. Still, it sat heavy in her chest.

Let me know if you want me on the surgery. She’d meant it to be neutral. A professional courtesy. But saying it had felt like drawing a line she didn’t want to draw. He hadn’t crossed it. Claire leaned forward, elbows on her thighs, and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. She’d made her choice. She wasn’t going to chase him. Not again. She was done giving her heart away like it didn’t matter if it came back. She'd been hurt so many times in her life that she'd lost count of how many people had made promises who later didn't keep them anyway. So many people who had made her feel worthy of love, only to then give her a reason why she wasn't. Neil wasn't one of those people, she knew that. He was good, gentle, the light in the darkness. And yet she couldn't bring herself to open up to him again, even though up until this point he'd never given her a reason to be afraid of it. Maybe that was exactly what made it so bad this time. If he just disappeared again, if she had finally been too much for him too, wasn't he just like everyone else? Deep down, somewhere near her heart, she knew he deserved the benefit of the doubt, but she just couldn't. Couldn't expose herself like that again. But God, it still ached. The almost of it. The what if.

She sat there for a long time, letting the stillness hold her. Eventually, she would get up. She’d move on to the next patient, the next shift. She always did. But right now, she let herself feel the after of everything that seemed to good to be true. Well, because it was. 

 

"What are you doing?" A voice interrupted her thoughts, forcing her to raise her gaze. Morgan entered the locker room with her head tilted slightly and strolled over to her locker. Claire watched her silently for a moment, the words in her head not yet ready to leave her mouth. It was almost comforting how Morgan always seemed to find her when she didn't know what to do with her feelings. And even though she knew she couldn't share them with Morgan, it still gave her a sense of comfort. She sighed and let her head fall back. Morgan said nothing, took a bite of her granola bar, and let her locker fall shut with a loud clunk.

 

"Just thinking," Claire murmured, her eyes slightly open. "You wouldn't, by any chance, be taking my patient?" she added with a humorless laugh. This made Morgan frown and cross her arms.

 

"No." She chuckled slightly, and Claire's body tensed involuntarily, her eyebrow raised.

 

"Why? You don't even know which one I have." Morgan shrugged.

 

"I don't need to. If you want to swap, it's probably cursed or something." The corners of Claire's mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but almost. She didn't argue; in all the years she'd worked with Morgan, she hadn't voluntarily handed over a single patient, not even the ones who were medically boring. Not because she didn't want to confide in Morgan, but because she had a story behind each patient. "What's wrong with it? Difficult case or difficult ... you?" Morgan took a step toward her, and Claire almost flinched. She wanted nothing more than to talk to Morgan, to sort out her thoughts with her, or simply to finally break the silence. Instead, she waved her hand and rubbed her eyes.

 

"Oh, just another child's case. I'm really getting fed up with this." Morgan nodded slowly before averting her gaze and clasping her hands together. Her gaze was almost expressionless, but the one emotion reflected in it suggested she'd already realized it went deeper than that.

 

"Difficult you, then, I see." She concluded before plopping down on the bench next to Claire, her eyes fixed on her shoes. For a while, they simply sat next to each other without saying a word, the silence more comfortable than expected. It didn't feel difficult, nothing unsaid, simply a little respite. "Have you ever wondered what you'd do if you weren't a doctor?" Morgan asked suddenly, the tone of her voice neutral, but her eyebrows slightly furrowed. Claire paused.

 

"What?" Morgan shrugged.

 

"Like, no med school, no surgeries, no sixty-hour weeks. Just ... you doing something else. Anything else." Claire was surprised by the weight of her words and searched Morgan's gaze, but her eyes remained on the ground in front of her.

 

"You think about things like that?" Morgan hesitated for a moment before shrugging.

 

"Sometimes." The honesty in that one word almost made Claire recoil. This side of Morgan wasn't completely foreign to her, yet she was always surprised when she revealed it. Claire hesitated with her answer, not knowing what it was. There were many careers she had seen herself in before - doctor, police officer, or social worker. Only after some therapy did she understand the reason behind the idea of that - she had something to prove, not just to herself, not just to her mother, but to the world. There had been many situations in her life where she had felt like she wasn't enough. Not enough to have friends or success, or to receive love. She knew that no matter what she became, she had to choose something that would impress. But that was only part of it, as she soon realized. It wasn't about impressing, not at its core. It was about protecting and saving; it was about standing up for people who couldn't do that themselves. Because it had taken her so many years in her life to become that kind of person for herself. She wanted to do good, to influence other people's lives, to be the reason someone got a second chance at life.

 

"Probably a social worker or something," Claire finally decided, making Morgan look up. "Growing up, social workers were like heroes to me. After I saw them, everything was always okay, even if only for a very short time. Later, I was angry every time they showed up at the door because I knew what it meant. But as a child ... they were often the only light I could see at the end of a tunnel, no matter how long it was." Claire's face twisted involuntarily as her words brought back memories of that time. Morgan smiled gently.

 

"Well, something tells me you would have been damn good at it." She murmured cheekily, and Claire nudged her with her elbow, a small smile now playing on her lips. It was no secret that Claire was good with people; it was her greatest strength.

 

"What about you?" Morgan shrugged, not answering directly. "Therapist, maybe?" Claire joked, and Morgan grimaced.

 

"God no. I don't do hand-holding," she said, jumping up from the bench as if on cue, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "I'd be rich, famous, and well-dressed - without the blood." Claire laughed, a short but warm laugh, and Morgan joined in. For a brief moment, Claire felt lighter. "You keep your case. And if you can't cope at all, you can just take a sick day like everyone else. One more or one less doesn't matter. I can do your job too, probably even better than you." She joked with a quick wink before leaving Claire alone in the changing room. The slight grin didn't leave her lips as she slowly stood up and stretched. She would get through the day somehow, would be able to face Neil in the operating room for hours without her heart breaking. She could do this. And the next day would surely be better.

 

****

 

The scrub room was cold. Or maybe it just felt that way. Claire stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, water running warm over her hands. She scrubbed with focus, but her mind wouldn’t still. Not with him just a few feet away. She could hear the soft thud of a cabinet closing, the crinkle of sterile wrap, the unmistakable rhythm of Neil’s steps behind her. He hadn’t said anything yet. Of course he hadn’t. Claire bit the inside of her cheek, watching him out the corner of her eye as he slipped on a surgical cap. Calm, composed. Always. His expression unreadable, but she’d memorized it enough to catch the hesitation just under the surface. The pause that told her he knew this wasn’t just another case.

“Scrubbing in with me?” he asked suddenly, and she couldn’t tell if it was an attempt at levity or just filler. Perhaps he was referring to her sharp comment, which hadn't sounded like herself even to her own ears. Perhaps he simply wanted to reassure himself that she was fully engaged. But his voice was warm, the tone too familiar for it not to trigger anything in her. It was this softness that she convinced herself he was saving just for her. Her lips curved faintly.

 

“Couldn’t miss this one out.” His eyes flicked toward hers. For a moment, there was something like a smile. Brief. Careful. They finished in silence.

Inside the OR, the lights were too bright, at least it felt like that, but Claire still felt the thrum of tension under her skin. She took her place opposite Neil and forced her focus into her hands, into the procedure. He looked at her once before beginning. Just once. But it was enough to make her pulse quicken.

 

“You good?” he asked, voice low but neutral, like he was asking out of habit, not concern. Claire nodded.

 

“Always.” He gave a short hum, almost amused.

 

“You know, most people say no when they’re not.” This answer made her hesitate. What had he expected of her? Should she tell him now, especially in the operating room, that he'd hurt her, or that he'd confused her by being so absent? Maybe he hadn't been able to handle her withdrawing from him today, even if she didn't feel like he'd even noticed or cared. But just maybe he was just as confused as she was.

 

“I’m not most people.” It was automatic. Light. But she hated how much she meant it. Neil's eyes flickered over to her for a brief moment, but he left it uncommented. She was sure he'd understood that long ago. Well, he'd been the one who'd made her understand it herself. They worked in sync, just like always. Claire knew his rhythm, his silences, the way he handed things off without a word. She could almost forget the kiss. Almost. But then their gloves brushed, and her breath caught. She didn’t show it. Neil didn’t either. But he did glance at her more than once. And every time he did, her heart climbed into her throat. Could he still feel her skin beneath his fingertips? Could he still remember the sounds she hadn't been able to hold back when he kissed her the way he had? Part of her kept hoping he’d say something. Anything. A comment about the case. A half-joke to ease the strain. Some acknowledgment of the thing still lodged between them like a stone in her chest. Instead, he kept his focus sharp. Professional. But right before they closed up, he turned to her again.

 

“You’ve been quiet today.“ It wasn’t accusing. It wasn’t even pointed. Claire glanced up, startled. His eyes met hers, and for one fragile second, she saw something unguarded there, like maybe he’d noticed her pulling away, and maybe he wasn’t okay with that. She almost laughed, the idea was so absurd.

 

“Didn’t realize you noticed,” she said. He didn’t answer right away.

 

“I always do.” She froze, hands paused above the patient’s skin. But then he looked away, gave a nod to the nurse, and stepped back like nothing had happened. “Nice work,” he added, his tone back to usual. “You always make me look good.” It should’ve felt like a compliment. Instead, it made her ache. Such a distant comment compared to the things he usually said to her. As if she were just another resident and he was just her boss. Nothing else. No history between them, no endless nights in the Residents' Lounge when they stayed up together trying to find a solution to a difficult case. No jogs where they watched the sun rise together, no coffee drunk over a deep conversation. No meaningful glances, no unnecessary touches, no butterflies in the stomach, no warm and heartfelt laughter. Just distance. She stripped off her gloves and stepped away from the table. She wanted to get out before her chest could tighten any more. Before she said something she couldn’t take back.

They walked in silence up toward the recovery wing. Claire matched Neil’s pace even though part of her wanted to move faster - just to get away from the hum of what had passed between them. The words unsaid, the way his gaze had lingered just a second too long. But it was like a reflex, a habit that made it impossible to adjust her pace, to get away from him. She could almost feel him reaching out for her, even though he wasn't taking a step toward her. His eyes bored into the back of her head, the weight of what was between them crushing her. And why on earth, in this awkward moment, couldn't she think of anything but his lips pressing against hers? Why did the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end at the thought of how close he was walking behind her? But before they rounded the corner, she caught sight of someone up ahead. Claire blinked. Stopped. A familiar figure stood near the nurse’s station, half turned, arms folded tightly across his chest like he was holding something in.

 

“Is that - ”

 

“Yeah,” Neil murmured beside her. “That’s Park.” She hadn’t seen him since the night of the quake. No texts. No check-ins. Just a sick note and silence. She had contacted him, wanted to see how he was doing, but he had shut down. Now, he looked thinner, somehow, drawn in. His face was pale. And while he seemed intact physically, there was something fractured in the way he stood. Claire stepped forward first.

 

“Alex?” He looked up, startled. His guard shot up immediately, but he tried, poorly, to cover it with a smile.

 

“Hey.” Claire didn’t smile back. She just searched his face, quietly.

 

“You’re back.”

 

“Sort of.” He glanced toward the hallway. “Just came in to drop some paperwork. Thought I’d do it quietly.” Neil stayed silent, but she felt the shift in his body beside her. Claire kept her voice soft.

 

“You okay?” Park gave a short laugh, dry, humorless.

 

“Define okay.” Her chest tightened. She knew what it meant. She still remembered exactly what it was like to lose a patient she had grown fond of. It was always stressful when a patient couldn't be saved, but there were always those cases that hit harder than others. Where it wasn't so easy to slip back into the professional performance of a surgeon. These losses that they carried with them for years afterward, whose faces occasionally appeared in their minds in quiet moments, almost as a reminder that they should have done more. It was a heavy burden to carry, and as a doctor, they had the task of learning to deal with it. But Claire saw it in his face - he wasn't ready to deal with it yet. She didn't know what exactly had happened, who exactly the boy who had died that night was, and she didn't want to ask Alex. At least not now, when being in the hospital seemed to be draining all his strength.

 

“We were worried,” she said simply. He looked at her like he didn’t believe it. Then his eyes shifted to Neil. There was something sharper in that glance. Not cruel, just tired.

 

“You seem to be getting along fine without me.” Claire froze, heart skipping. Neil straightened slightly, but didn’t answer. She and Neil had been a good team, most days, but she was used to Alex’s presence; in many cases, he had been the piece that completed the puzzle. Certainly, Claire could work well with almost any of her colleagues, especially Neil, but also especially well with Alex. She had always considered them a trio of sorts over the past few months, even though there had been tension between them when he, too, had suspected that things could have become problematic between her and Neil. She had been annoyed that he had questioned her decision-making skills, but later realized that, unlike Morgan, he had actually just been worried about her, with no ulterior motive. Park’s gaze flicked back to her. “I’m not … staying. Not yet. Just trying to figure out what it means to come back.” Something in Claire softened. She didn’t touch him, but she stepped closer, letting the silence wrap gently around the three of them. There was something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite interpret at that moment, something that went beyond the professional. Something that had nothing to do with the case itself. Claire wondered what his words meant. Whether there was the small possibility that he might not come back at all. Even if she couldn’t imagine it, the look on his face said otherwise. She sighed slightly.

 

“You don’t have to rush,” she said. “No one’s timing you.” Park gave a slow nod. He looked like he wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words.

 

“I should go,” he muttered. “Just wanted to … I don’t know.” He hesitated, his eyes searching hers for another brief moment. She gave him a small, affirming smile. “It was nice to see you," he said breathlessly, his voice emotionless. Claire nodded.

 

“You know where to find us.” He turned to leave, but stopped for a second.

 

Without looking back, he said, “I keep thinking about what I could’ve done differently.” Her throat tightened. She didn't know what to say. But Neil stepped in, his voice quiet.

 

“You did everything you could, Alex.” Park didn't reply. Just kept walking until he disappeared down the hallway. Claire stood there a moment longer, the ache back in her chest. She exhaled.

 

“He’s not okay.” Neil shook his head.

 

“No.” They stood there in silence, both knowing that pain didn't just disappear. That sometimes surviving was the hardest part. It was strange, actually. They saved people every day, cured their pain, or discovered what was wrong with them. But these stories quickly became a monotonous mess, part of everyday life. It lost its significance, as if it didn't matter at all, even though it clearly did. But those they couldn't save remained, weighing heavily on their shoulders. And on days like these, they saw nothing but loss, death. As if their job were just an illusion, as if they were pretending they could save someone, even though they had just as little power over life and death as anyone else. Because even if they did everything right, everything humanly possible, sometimes they still died. And those for whom they saw no hope would suddenly recover as if by a miracle. It was as if it were simply a game of chance. But winning only meant something in the most special cases, while losing brought them to their knees.

Claire said nothing for a long time, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. She knew from experience that such days would pass. She knew that perhaps the next day they would celebrate another success that would make up for all the failures, at least for a while. But not today. She didn’t move, her arms were still crossed, but not defensively anymore. More like she was holding herself in place. Neil didn’t move either. He just let the silence settle, as if neither of them wanted to be the one to break it. Finally, Claire exhaled.

 

“I didn’t expect to see him like that.” Neil glanced at her.

 

“Me neither.”

 

“He always plays it cool, you know?” she went on, softer now. “Jokes when he’s uncomfortable. Pretends he’s fine. But today … ” She shook her head. “He looked like he couldn’t even fake it.”

 

“Well, he lost a kid,” Neil said, quiet but steady. “That doesn’t go away. Not fast.” Claire’s throat tightened.

 

“No one saw him after that. He came back to the hospital, packed his things, and just left without speaking to anyone.” Neil nodded slightly, resting his hands on his hips.

 

“Some people process it alone.”

 

“Is that what you would do?” she asked before she could stop herself. There was more meaning in her words than she had initially realized. He turned toward her slowly. There was a beat of silence. Their eyes met, and Claire saw something stirring behind his eyes, his brow slightly furrowed. Neil was someone who handled everything on his own, she already knew that. But she had never asked herself how he dealt with cases like these, how much it affected him, whether it still paralyzed him after all these years. She had seen him lose patients before, he had been frustrated, sometimes even angry. But the very next day, all that seemed to have been forgotten. Neil averted his gaze first, looking past her, as if all the answers lay there. His lips were slightly parted, as if he were still considering whether to say the following.

 

"Most of the time, yes. I need time to process it, to learn from it. Sometimes you immediately realize that there was nothing you could have done, and then it's still bad, but you have to accept that. But sometimes ..." He hesitated, his gaze flickering to her before he cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "Sometimes you know full well that you're the reason that person is dead, and that's what sticks. When you see it over and over again in your mind's eye, so clear as if it were happening right this moment ... I don't know if you can ever process something like that." The honesty in his words made Claire recoil. She'd never heard him speak about it so openly before, and it surprised her that he was doing it now, when he'd shut her out from anything else. "Pregnant woman and her unborn child. It's been years, but I still see them almost every night. The mother's panicked look, the mistakes I made ... I still go over the operation today and imagine how different it could have turned out." He grumbled a humorless laugh before shrugging. "But that doesn't change anything. We have to move on. I just hope Park recovers soon. This won't be the last one he loses."

Claire looked at him. Really looked. Something about his tone, about the fact that he'd answered at all, unraveled a knot inside her chest. She also remembered this case herself, she also thought back to it from time to time, not with the same feelings of guilt as Neil, but still with the certainty that both deaths could have been prevented.

 

"I just keep thinking," she said, quieter now, "He probably blames himself, even tho there was nothing he could've done. I know that feeling too well." Neil's gaze didn't leave hers.

 

“So do I.” It was a simple exchange. Nothing dramatic. No heart-on-sleeve confessions. But it felt like breathing after holding her breath too long. Claire swallowed and looked after Alex, like he would come back any moment.

 

“We should check on him later. There must be something we could say to him. Anything.” She heard Neil shift beside her, a soft exhale. A simple adjustment, his stance shifting slightly towards her. It was barely noticeable. To anyone else, it would‘ve meant nothing. But she felt it. His shoulder, lightly touching hers, almost as if he were trying to comfort her. Just such a small movement; it could just as easily have been unconscious, but she knew it wasn't.

 

“I used to think I had to say something profound after losing a patient.” Claire turned her head slightly, not interrupting. “We were told exactly what to say to the loved ones back then. Word for word, like a mantra. But I thought that was stupid, so I stayed up all night writing down what I would say to the family. I rewrote it six times, even practicing in front of the mirror.” A small smile played on his lips, which quickly disappeared and was replaced by furrowed brows. “When I actually lost someone, I just said I’m sorry. Even if it wasn't my fault.” Claire blinked. She hadn't expected that. She had always thought of him as someone who strictly followed protocol, or at least that's what he had told her. “I thought that would feel like not enough,” he added. “But it turns out, sometimes it’s the only thing that doesn’t sound fake.” There was a beat of silence between them, real and heavy, but not crushing.

 

“When you told Park he did everything in his power, he nodded, but I don’t think he really believed it.” She said quietly, her gaze searching his for a brief moment before turning away again. Neil nodded slowly.

 

“We never do. And I think, that's what will help us grow.” There was warmth in his voice that she had sorely missed over the past few days. It made everything better for a few seconds and allowed her to breathe a sigh of relief. She could see him watching her in the corner of her eye, not intrusive, not judgmental. Just there. For a brief period, he was simply Neil again, and that was exactly what she needed. She gave him a slight smile before sighing and continuing on her way. Neil followed immediately. For a moment, there was complete silence between them. Even though Claire was still worried about Alex and Shaun, it didn't feel so overwhelming anymore. Suddenly, Neil slowly came to a stop, and as if by reflex, Claire turned to him. He wiped his face with his hand, his gaze averted. But the next moment, his eyes met hers, and her breath caught in her throat. He seemed more uncertain than she was used to, the hesitation before speaking uncharacteristic of him. Almost imperceptibly, he shook his head.

 

"Can we talk?" he finally asked. Claire raised her eyebrow, her heart beating faster than it had a moment before.

 

"About the case?" she asked, but his expression had already given her the answer.

 

"No, not about that."

 

---

 

Notes:

Yes, another little bit of angst. lol. But let me tell you, you are in for something ... big next week.
Prepare yourself, next week will be a very long chapter, full of drama, feelings and actions. It will be crazy. And yes. We will finally get the talk.
Can't wait :D

Chapter 6: But it's worth it

Notes:

Ohhhkay guys. We are in. :)

Just one little side note: In the flashback I made some changes when it came to andrews, so it'll fit the story better. But who cares :D

Have fun 🤗

 

---

 

It wasn't the first time she'd stood in front of his place, nor the first time she'd wondered what she was doing there. But she'd never been inside his apartment before; it had felt like a boundary for both of them that shouldn't be crossed. Being alone together over the past few months had felt both like a liberation and a prison. It was like a warm bubble that protected them from everything reality could have done to them. It was comfortable, somehow natural and familiar. But it had also been confining, at least for the past few weeks. They were both dancing around what had obviously build up between them. While it had been exciting, playing with fire, it had been frightening when she realized there was more to it than sexual attraction. Because as soon as feelings were involved, the whole thing seemed more real, bigger, more significant. As if what they were having carried consequences that Claire wasn't sure she was ready to face. And while they'd grown closer and it'd become easier and easier to open up to him, visiting his apartment had been something she herself hadn't wanted, and he obviously hadn't either. She'd been here a few times before, picking him up for a run or once promising to drop off a medical file after work. But it never went any further than this – the parking lot in front of the house. Claire stared into the large window, the light shining from within. Her heart was beating fast, her fingers drumming even faster against the steering wheel of her car. It seemed strange to her that Neil had been the one to suggest she come over after he'd been so dismissive. When he'd asked her if she'd be willing to talk to him, she'd expected them to meet in his office, or at best, at the café she liked so much. When he'd seen her surprised expression when he'd casually asked why she wouldn't just come to his place, he'd almost backed down. Wasn't it strange to suddenly cross that line when that had been the problem? That she had taken a step towards him? Maybe he didn't regret it after all, maybe he had just been waiting for the right moment to talk to her. But then ... where did the change of heart come from? He had been so distracted and then suddenly this? Claire sighed and shook her head. After all, she had come here to get all the answers to her questions, so she couldn't lock herself in her car forever. Maybe he could even see her from one of the many windows and was watching her at this very moment. It won't change anything whether you go in or not. Then at least you'll know where you stand.

Her fingers stopped and gripped the steering wheel tightly once more. That was what she wanted; she wanted certainty, wanted to understand what had been going through his mind over the last few days, and more importantly, she wanted to know what would happen next between them. Claire got out of the car and took a few steps toward the building before stopping again. Of course, it was big and beautiful. It suited Neil and his personality, and yet she felt like she didn't belong there. She didn't see herself being able to afford a place like this, even in her distant future. It made her realize once again how incredibly far apart their worlds were. He was her boss, had so many more years of experience than her, had already made a name for himself. He was probably at the peak of his career, or at least rapidly approaching it, and she ... was a nobody in comparison. Sure, she'd finish her residency in a few months, and then she'd actually be a surgeon, someone standing on their own feet, though still far from where he was right now. Claire knew Neil hadn't had an easy childhood either, and it had always motivated her, seeing how far he'd come, even though he came from an immigrant background, just like her. It wasn't easy in a world like this for people like them, and yet he always made it look so easy that Claire almost forgot that he'd faced almost as many obstacles as she had. He was impressive, and in that moment even intimidating. Worlds had collided that should never have. Not just professionally, but personally as well. Neil was quite a bit older than her, and while that had never particularly bothered her - perhaps she'd even found it appealing, it was still another factor in why she shouldn't have been standing here today. She didn't know if the age difference had ever been a problem for him, though he'd never hinted at it - and they hardly noticed anyway. Claire knew she was mature for her age; she always had been. One of the few advantages of having been on her own throughout her childhood. And Neil … well, he was professional and mature, of course, but he also had a playful side to him that often made him seem many years younger. Things had always worked out between them, age just a number that meant nothing. It had never put Claire off; she was probably even attracted to it because he was much more mature than her ex-partners. There was always a certain amount of drama with men who weren't quite sure where they wanted to go in life, but with Neil, that was never a problem. He was confident, knew what he wanted, and worked for it. Perhaps that was the only problem for Claire - that he had been ready to start a family years ago, to settle down. She didn't even know if she wanted children. Deep down, she was aware of her desire to have children, but whether she would ever be able to commit to it, she wasn't sure. Strangely enough, Neil wasn't all that different from Claire; they shared a sense of humor, agreed on many things, and even if they didn't, they eventually found a middle ground. Perhaps that was why, despite all the odds, they'd found their way back to each other, realizing that their relationship went beyond mere professionalism, even though that should never have happened. It was strange how life worked sometimes, how many things had to go a certain way for Claire to find herself here, on the doorstep of her boss, whom she'd kissed a few days ago. Everything had changed so quickly.

 

****

 

Claire stands in the middle of the much too small room, her fingers tightly gripping the tablet they had all received earlier from one of the employees whose name she can no longer remember. Her eyes scan the unfamiliar faces and she involuntarily wonders what it will be like to work with them for the next few years. The others don't let on whether they are as nervous as Claire, but none of them speak, their postures are tense. Claire remembers some of them from the day they received their general introductions, but she only remembers Jared's name, and that's only because he doesn't leave her side. He's funny, the kind of guy she always hangs out with; she likes him.

The door closes behind her with a soft clack, and she turns abruptly. The people entering have a completely different presence than those already in the room with Claire, and no one needs to tell her - she knows immediately who these people are. The attendings, her new bosses. They step deeper into the room and with them comes a certain tension that is immediately transmitted to the others. Their glances sweep around the room but say nothing of what they are thinking. It seems almost ridiculous the way they walk around with their name tags on their chests; it takes away a bit of their seriousness, but Claire immediately feels respect. She recognizes Dr. Glassman from her job interview. His expression is softer than she remembered, as if he is trying not to appear too intimidating. He doesn't smile exactly, but his eyes are warm and settle on one of the men at the other end of the room. Dr. Andrews has the posture of someone who is used to being in charge, his chin slightly raised. Dr. Lim nods sharply enough to cut through the air; without even trying, she exudes more confidence than the men besides her. Claire likes her immediately; she likes seeing women in positions of power and Dr. Lim seems like someone she'd better not mess with. Next to her stands another man, even more impassive than the others, as if he finds the whole place repugnant. Dr. Melendez. He doesn't smile, doesn't move. He just stands there, watching them with a gaze that offers nothing. His presence is calmer than the others', but somehow heavier, as if the air had changed when he entered the room. His eyes meet hers for a second, and Claire gets the strange feeling that he's already studying her, as if he's already seen through everything without her having even said anything. She is the first to look away. There's no welcoming speech from him, no warm greeting, just a clipboard in his hand and the slightest frown between his brows. Claire doesn't know why, but that's precisely why she wants to impress him more than the others. Glassman steps forward first, gives them a warm smile.

"Welcome to your first day as a surgical residents. You've made it this far - now comes the part where you prove you belong here." Claire tries to focus and nods to the others. Her heart is pounding in her chest, partly from nerves, partly from adrenaline. She's barely slept that night and doesn't want to risk losing her presence of mind. Jared leans forward and whispers something in her ear behind his hand.

 

"That's the President. Do you think he practiced that line in the mirror?" Claire suppresses a smile and elbows him gently to silence him. She's glad he's talking to her; it eases some of her nerves, but she's resolved to be attentive from the very beginning and can't afford any distractions. Dr. Andrews speaks next - confident, smooth, as if he knows how he sounds and likes it. Claire feels Jared moving next to her and can't suppress a slight chuckle. "That's the guy who would sell his own kidney to get ahead," he murmurs. "I bet you a hundred dollars he'll be the boss one day." Claire doesn't react, but she feels Dr. Melendez's eyes on her even before she looks up, a calm, unreadable stare. The disapproval in it isn't loud, but it comes across nonetheless. Just a hint of a frown and the way his gaze lingers on her a little too long - Claire instinctively straightens up. She's seen that look hundreds of times, even before she's had a chance to show off her talent. There's always a certain prejudice against her, whether it's because she's a woman or a black woman, it depends on the person. She hates that look. She doesn't want Jared to be the reason she's already underestimated. Without moving a muscle, she moves away from Dr. Melendez's gaze, but she's uncomfortable, the tension in her body worse than it's been all morning. Dr. Lim's voice cuts sharply and clean, shattering the moment.

 

"No one here is going to hold your hand. This is surgery. You want to be coddled, there's a nice psych program down the road." Claire likes her even more. Then Dr. Melendez steps forward, no smile, no drama. Just a glance at his clipboard and then in the direction of the residents.

 

"You'll rotate through different specialties. Some of us will push you harder than you think is fair. That's not our problem - it's yours." His eyes flick to Jared, then to Claire. "We don't tolerate distractions. Or shortcuts." The silence that follows isn't long, but it feels personal. Claire feels her throat go dry. He doesn't say anything else. Just passes the clipboard to Andrews and steps back. Jared leans in once more.

 

“I think he’s going to be fun.” Claire doesn't answer, still thinking about the way Neil Melendez had looked at her, as if she'd already failed a test she didn't know she was taking. She bites the inside of her cheek, gripping the tablet a little tighter. She had expected to go unnoticed, to blend in, as she had so many times before. But making a negative impression wasn't the plan. She sighs as the group begins to disperse. Jared is talking to one of the others, his mood just as carefree as before the meeting, not seeming to mind being the focus of attention. Claire doesn't know if that says more about him than it does about her. She doesn't notice Dr. Melendez approaching her until she turns and finds him standing behind her. The scent of his aftershave immediately hits her, a flutter in her stomach. She likes it, it suits him. Strong and confident. For a moment, he says nothing, watches her reaction, and a cold shiver runs down Claire's spine.

 

"Dr. Browne," he says. Voice even, but not unfriendly. Not quite. She stares at him, and she knows it, but she can't stop it. Her cheeks turn red, and she hates herself for it.

 

"Yes, Dr. Melendez?" To her relief, her voice is a little more confident than her expression, and she lets a slight breath escape from her lungs. He says nothing for another moment, as if he expects her to answer the question herself, as if she already knows what he wants from her. He studies her, not rudely, methodically. Like he is reading her posture, her timing, the slight hesitation in her tone.

 

"Keep your focus," he says simply. "This program doesn't give second chances." It wasn't meant to be malicious, but it sounds almost like a warning or a challenge. She doesn't know what to say, feels exposed, but she holds his gaze; this time, she doesn't look away first. She nods.

 

"Understood." His expression doesn't change. But there is something in his eyes, maybe the briefest flicker of approval. Or curiosity. Then, just as quickly, he nods once and turns to go. She watches him walk away, unsure why the conversation, if she could even call it that, has her heart racing faster than Glassman’s entire speech.

 

The day drags on, but in a way, time flies. Claire is overwhelmed, more than she expected. She feels embarrassed at how aimlessly she's running through the hospital corridors. It's not that she's unused to chaos; she spent many hours in the hospital during her training, but it's a different one than this one and this one seems ... more convoluted, more confusing. She even heard a nurse laugh when she walked in the completely wrong direction. She's happy when Dr. Andrews tells her she's getting the chance to watch Dr. Melendez perform an operation. Even though she wishes she could assist or at least be in the operating room, she's excited to see her boss in action. She stands near the edge of the surgical gallery, arms crossed, trying not to step too close to the glass, but she feels like pressing her entire face against it. The energy of the operating room can be felt all the way up here, and she can almost imagine what it will be like to one day stand in one of these rooms herself, holding a scalpel. A small smile creeps onto her face. She almost doesn't notice Jared sitting next to her, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, as if he's not even trying to be impressed. The other man, whose name Claire has learned by now is Shaun, stands a little bit away from her, completely focused, just like her. Below them, Dr. Melendez is already in the middle of the procedure. Calm. Efficient. His voice is clear over the intercom as he speaks to the scrub nurse. Claire can't look away. There's something special about the way he moves - no unnecessary movements, no hesitation. He rarely speaks to his resident unless necessary, but every instruction was clear and precise. Purposeful.

"That guy's a machine," Jared whispers. "I bet he's mindful of his coffee breaks." Claire ignores him, barely hears him. She's in a trance. She watches Dr. Melendez stitch. It wasn't conspicuous. Simply clean, precise. But there's a rhythm, something unspoken in the way his team follows him without question. A respect he doesn't have to demand. And then he looks up. Just for a moment. Right through the glass. At her. Claire freezes. He doesn't nod. He doesn't notice beyond the brief eye contact. But her chest tightens nonetheless.

 

Claire still can't believe what she's just seen. It's like watching a magician at work, impressive without being intrusive. She's full of adrenaline, her movements almost bouncy as she walks through the hospital corridors. Many scenarios have already run through her head as she imagined what it would be like to actually be a surgeon, and even if she isn't one yet, the observation filled her with euphoria, like a glimpse into the future, a promise that all the hard work of the past few years and the work that lies ahead of her now would be worth it. She would love to go straight back to watching someone else at work and learn as much as she can. Dr. Glassman has promised that whoever tries the hardest and impresses the attendings the most will be able to assist in an operation at the end of the week, and Claire desperately wants to be that one. But for the rest of today, she has emergency room duty, which doesn't necessarily bother her, but all the things she would experience there, she had already experienced during her studies, and she wants ... more. She wants to save lives, she wants to make diagnoses, she wants to impress others, she wants ... that damn elevator to come a little faster. Claire sighs. She could have taken the stairs if she knew how long this thing would take. But then the door opens and there stands Dr. Melendez with a blonde woman whom Claire had only seen casually before. Claire is frozen for a moment as their eyes fall on her, but then she forces a small smile and gets in with them. She keeps a certain distance from them and presses the appropriate button. The two speak a little more quietly, but then Dr. Melendez laughs heartily. Claire is surprised by the noise and by the change in his demeanor. He seems relaxed and at ease. It's almost absurd how much warmer he suddenly seems. The woman strokes his back gently and laughs too, Claire raises her eyebrow but keeps her gaze directed forward. The door opens, the woman says goodbye and pushes past Claire before turning around again with a wink, presumably not for her but for Dr. Melendez. The door closes again and the elevator moves on. The sudden silence is uncomfortable for Claire, as is the further change in Dr. Melendez's demeanor. It is almost awfully quiet after his and the woman's laughter have died down. Claire involuntarily wonders how the two were connected, but immediately dismisses the question; it's none of her business. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. He looks exactly as he did in the OR - composed, clean-scrubbed, not a hair out of place. Her hands clench into fists, her brows furrow slightly as she considers what to say to him. Should she even say anything? It doesn't seem as if he's even noticed her so far, his gaze fixed on the door in front of him. She swallows hard before turning slightly to face him.

"It was great watching you operate," she says, a little less surely than she hoped. He raises his gaze, as if expecting her to continue. Claire nervously runs her hand through her hair, twisting it fidgety around her finger as she tries to hold his gaze. "I feel like I've learned a lot. Just by watching," she adds with a slight smile, biting her lip. He watches her for a moment, and she feels the blush rising in her cheeks. There's something about the way he looks at her that she can't quite place.

 

“Observations aren’t just for the procedure,” he says. No smile, but his tone isn’t cold. “Watch how the team works. The pacing. The decision-making.” Claire nods, trying not to seem flustered.

 

“I noticed that. The rhythm. You don’t have to say much, they just follow.” He gives a quiet breath, maybe the beginning of a smile, but it doesn‘t quite make it.

 

“They follow because I expect them to be ready. If they’re not, they’re not in my OR.” There is something about the way he says it, not arrogant. Just true. It makes her heart beat faster. She likes how confidently he speaks. The look in his eyes isn't necessarily dismissive, but challenging. Claire wonders what it's like to operate alongside him, what it will feel like to follow him. She meets his gaze.

 

“I want to be ready.” This causes him to pause; something changes in his eyes, just a little. The door opens and he gets out, but he remains standing in the doorway, holding the elevator door open, his gaze fixed on her.

 

“Then focus,” he says. “Every minute you’re here is either preparing you … or wasting time.” There is a certain warmth in his voice, not like compassion, but like emphasis. She nods, but he is already walking away, letting the door close. No goodbye. Claire’s heart is strangely loud in her chest.

For a man who says so little, he sure has a way of making things feel personal.

 

The next day hasn't been exciting so far; they've been on emergency duty again, and the hours have barely passed. Finally, there's some time for a break for lunch, and Claire sits outside with the others, the sun warm on her skin. Yesterday had been an exciting day; she hadn't even been able to sleep because she was so nervous. She expected today to be the same, but they're on the early shift, and so far nothing exciting has happened except for a few wounds that needed stitches and some stomach aches that were checked out. Claire isn't giving up hope; this afternoon they have their first patient. They're still under Dr. Melendez' rotation, and something about it is making her nervous and fidgety.

“Andrews definitely likes me,” Jared says, eating his banana. He sits opposite her, still not showing that he is stressed, but Claire is sure she can see it in his eyes. “I could tell. He gave me that look, you know, the ‘you might be a future chief’ kind of look.” Claire smiles.

 

“Pretty sure that’s just his face.” Jared smiles too, his gaze on her a little longer than she'd like, as if he were seeing or searching for something in her that she doesn't know what it is. She looks away first, her gaze focused on the book in front of her.

 

“Melendez though. Man. That guy is intense. Like, I was bracing for him to throw a scalpel at someone in the OR.” Shaun, sitting on the other side of the bench, speaks without looking up from the pancakes, on which he spreads more syrup than Claire can understand. She grimaces.

 

“Dr. Melendez doesn’t throw scalpels. That’s dangerous and against hospital policy.” Claire suppresses a laugh and shakes her head. Jared gives Shaun a long look, but when he doesn't react, his gaze lands back on Claire, who is now smiling slightly.

 

“You saw it, right?” Jared keeps going. “He’s got this whole … ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ vibe. Like he’s already over all of us.” Claire takes a sip of her coffee and shrugs. She feels the same way about him, but doesn't want to show any weakness to Jared just yet.

 

“He’s probably just careful. He’s the attending - you don’t get to be that without being guarded.” Jared raises an eyebrow.

 

“Careful, huh? Or did you just like the way he held that scalpel?” Claire shoots him a look.

 

“Jared.”

 

“What? I’m just saying, he barely looked at me, but he seemed to notice you.” Claire hasn't noticed that Dr. Melendez pays more attention to her than to others. She's the one who approached him, and even that didn't go particularly well. His words did motivate her a little, so she spent the whole night preparing for today, but everything else ... She doesn't know if Jared is simply insecure and taking it out on her, or if she's missing something he sees.

 

The three of them are already standing in their new patient's room, all a bit awkward. Claire wonders if this is yet another test she wasn't prepared for. The patient is lying in front of them, just staring at them, probably waiting for them to say something, and for a brief moment, Claire considers whether she should just speak to her. Maybe she should at least introduce herself? It would definitely make the situation a little less awkward if they weren't just standing there in front of the scared woman, staring at her as if they were completely overwhelmed. Which, in fact, they are.

But at that very moment, Dr. Melendez enters the room, the air changing as he does - becoming somehow tighter. A reassuring smile is on his lips, his step confident as he approaches her. "Mrs. Garcia. What are you doing?" he asks, concerned but warm. The woman looks up anxiously, and Dr. Melendez speaks soothingly to her for a moment before turning to the others. “Chest pain, dizziness, elevated troponin. Possible early MI. Dr. Kalu?” Jared steps forward, launching into a brief summary. Neil doesn’t interrupt, his facial expression, however, is not satisfied, but his eyes shift once - to Claire. She straightens reflexively.

“Dr. Browne,” he says once Jared has finished, “What’s your differential?” Claire blinkes once, then recovered. Her heart is beating way too fast, but she swallows it and nods before taking a step forward.

 

“Could be NSTEMI. Her EKG was borderline, but troponin’s trending up. Could also be myocarditis - she mentioned flu symptoms last week. Or pericarditis - there’s some radiation to the back.” Dr. Melendez gaze doesn’t waver.

 

“She’s not diaphoretic, no hypotension. Does that support or contradict MI?” Claire pauses, tries to read something from his face, but she doesn't succeed.

 

“Contradicts. But it doesn’t rule it out.” He nods once.

 

“Better. Keep digging. You’ll both assist with the cath prep.” Claire's heart stops for a moment. It's not surgery, not really, but a minor procedure. And she's about to see the inside of an operating room. She didn't expect this to happen today and has to suppress a broad grin. Dr. Melendez turnes to leave, then adds, “Dr. Murphy, vitals tracking. Let me know if there's any change.” Shaun immediately moves toward the monitors. Claire catches a glimpse of the patient’s grateful smile and feels a brief rush of confidence. Outside in the hallway, Neil pauses just long enough for her to catch up. “You spoke like someone who studied last night,” he says without looking at her.

 

“I did,” Claire replies. That earns her the faintest quirk of his mouth. Not a smile. But close. She feels a sense of pride as she feels that her work is already paying off.

 

“Good. Keep doing that.” And just like that, he walks off again, leaving Claire standing in the middle of the corridor - heart thudding, adrenaline buzzing, and a thought she can‘t quite shake: She wants to impress him. And maybe, just maybe … she had.

 

Claire was paged by Dr. Melendez a few minutes ago, and it triggers something in her that she can't identify. It's ridiculous; he's just her attending, expecting her to do her job. But somehow, it feels special that he's asking for her. Claire steps in quietly, holding the latest labs in her hand. Dr. Melendez is already at the console, arms folded, studying the angiogram on the screen like it might give up a secret if he stared long enough. She clears her throat gently.

“Labs just came back. Troponin’s still climbing.” He doesn‘t turn.

 

“Not unexpected.” Claire walkes closer, handing him the printout. Their fingers brush, barely. But she feels it anyway. He glances at the numbers, then back at the screen. “You see that narrowing?” he asks, tapping a spot near the left anterior descending artery. Claire leans in, scanning the image. Her shoulder brushes his arm. She steps back half a pace, trying to ignore the flicker in her chest.

 

“Yeah,” she says. “Looks like eighty percent. Could explain the symptoms.” Neil nods.

 

"We’ll take her to the cath lab within the hour.” There is a moment of silence, just the low hum of the monitor and the thudding in Claire’s ears. He looks at her, his eyes searching hers, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “You answered well today. Keep doing that and you’ll be way ahead of the others in no time.” Claire looks at him, surprised by the shift in tone.

 

“Thanks,” she says. „I thought maybe I talked too much,” she adds impulsively. He turns to her then. Not fully, just enough that she feels the weight of his attention again.

 

“No,” he says. “You were thinking out loud. That’s different. It’s not a bad habit, unless you stop thinking.” Something about that makes her smile.

 

“Good to know.” Their eyes hold a beat longer than necessary. She doesn't know what she sees in his, but it gives her a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach and she bites her lip slightly. And then he steps back, breaking the moment.

 

“Let me know when she’s prepped,” he says, already turning toward the console again. Claire nods, smiling slightly. It isn’t just that Dr. Melendez had complimented her. It is how he had done it, measured, quiet, with just enough warmth to make her feel seen. She isn’t imagining it. Or maybe she is. Maybe she wants to imagine it, and that is worse.

 

****

 

Claire stood in front of his front door, her finger already hovering over the doorbell. She knew there was no turning back now, but just knowing he was already waiting for her behind that door gave her a queasy feeling in her stomach. Before she could think about it any longer, or even retreat in the worst case scenario, she pressed the doorbell and exhaled heavily. It felt like minutes before his silhouette appeared behind the thin glass door. Claire felt like she was going to be sick and swallowed hard, but the next moment the door opened. Neil stood in front of her, a slight but unusually uncertain smile on his lips.

"Come in," he said simply, stepping aside to allow her to enter. Claire nodded slightly as she walked past him. She hated how nervous she was; she didn't even have enough confidence that her voice wouldn't break if she tried to say something. She flinched when she felt his fingertips brush against the back of her neck and jerked her head around. Only then did she realize he was helping her out of her jacket. "Sorry," he mumbled, obviously noticing that she was startled. Claire gave him a quick smile, but rolled her eyes when she turned her back on him. Pull yourself together. Of course he'll help you out of your jacket, don't freak out now. She took another heavy breath as she slipped out of her shoes. Neil walked past her, and she followed him without a word, her gaze wandering around the apartment. She didn't know what she'd imagined his apartment would look like, but even if it was very minimally furnished, it reflected him pretty well. It was actually quite similar to his office at the hospital.

 

"Nice place," she said after a few moments of silence, glad that her voice sounded considerably less uncertain than she'd expected. Still, she knew Neil had noticed her discomfort, at least if she'd interpreted his look correctly. Under normal circumstances, she would have moved around the apartment more confidently and teased him about the lack of decoration, but not now.

 

"Thanks," he replied. "Would you like a drink?" Claire hesitated for a moment, wondering how to respond. After Neil had invited her and she had driven home, she'd long and hard considered getting a drink to build up her courage and taking a taxi to his place. There had been a lot of temptation in the idea, just the thought of being able to ease into the conversation a bit more. In the end, though, she'd decided against it. Having to rely on calling a taxi to escape the situation worried her. The car gave her the option to flee at any moment, even if she'd wanted to see it through to the end of coversation.

 

"Maybe a water. Thanks." Claire desperately tried to think of some joke or comment that might help lighten the mood, but her mind raced and none of them made sense. She'd felt the tension between her and Neil ever since she'd entered the apartment. It was uncomfortable, like boiling water beneath the surface. She knew what it meant; she knew that tonight would change everything. So she simply sat on the sofa and waited. It wasn't long before Neil came over from the open kitchen, careful not to let his eyes fall on her. He placed her glass on the coaster in front of her, and Claire almost chuckled. Of course, he used coasters. He placed a whiskey glass on the table for himself, which made Claire wrinkle her nose. For a moment, she considered bringing it up, as she was sure he was still taking painkillers and they both knew he shouldn't mix them with alcohol. But ultimately, she decided against it and simply left it uncommented. When he sat down, she immediately noticed that he was putting as much space between them as possible without appearing completely unwelcoming. His jaw was tense, his gaze still fixed on the table. A quiet but heavy breath left his lungs. He was bent forward, and Claire was surprised at how mobile he was now, without being in pain, or at least showing any pain. For a brief moment, it was silent between them; Claire couldn't concentrate on anything but her pounding heart, which thumped in her ears. Her fingernails dug into her palms, her gaze fixed on her hands.

"Do you remember the first patient we had together?" she asked after another moment of silence. His head turned slightly toward her, the small crease between his eyebrows present as he hesitated.

 

"The MI that turned out to be a left main blockage?" Claire nodded slightly, a small, uncertain smile on her lips.

 

"Yes, I was thinking about that earlier." Neil grumbled before leaning back against the sofa and folding his arms.

 

"I remember thinking you were dangerous," he murmured. Her brow lifted.

 

“Dangerous?”

 

“You asked good questions. You cared. And you noticed everything.” Claire chuckled, rested her arm on the head of the sofa, and shook her head.

 

“That sounds like a compliment.” A slight twitch in the corner of his mouth betrayed the beginning of a smile, but he hesitated to answer.

 

“It was also a warning,” he said with a dry laugh. “To myself.” Claire frowned, unsure how to handle that answer. She watched him run his hand over his face, as he always did to buy time or clear his thoughts. She thought back to that case and that time herself. It reminded her of how insecure she once was and how much she had wanted to impress him. Now she realized she had succeeded; he had made no secret of it. But so much time had passed since then, so many things had happened. She wasn't the same person she'd been before, but neither was Neil. She'd felt something special with him, right from the start, but it was nothing compared to what she felt now. She thought of that young woman who'd stayed up every night, wondering what questions her boss might ask the next day and how she'd answer them. And then she thought back to the time when she'd stood up to him and he'd kicked her off his team. Rarely had she met someone who, in her opinion, had been so wrong, yet had stood firmly behind his opinion. She couldn't imagine how she could ever have worked with him. And she could never have imagined that he would be the one who saw her. Actually saw her, not just perceived her. How could she have known that he would become the person who would mean the most to her in life?

"Look. I've been avoiding you," he began again after a much too long pause, his voice warm but cautious.

 

"I noticed," she said, and could practically see his muscles tense at her words. He nodded slightly before sighing.

 

"I know. And I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ... " His words trailed off into nothingness, and soon it was silent between them again. Claire sighed.

 

"I'm sorry for catching you off guard like that. I wasn't thinking, I just ... I thought you ...“ She paused, before swolling hard. „I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable." His gaze met hers for a brief moment before he shook his head.

 

"That's not it." He leaned forward, his elbows on his legs, his hands clasped tightly together. She wanted to say something, to force the words out of him, but her throat was tight. She felt his warmth, even from where he was sitting, and it made her feel safe. "I was giving you an out," he finally said, slowly turning his head toward her. There was more warmth in his eyes than she'd seen in days, but his words hadn't fully reached her yet. She blinked. Slowly, she tried to sort out her thoughts.

 

"You were giving me an out?" she repeated quietly, shaking her head slightly. Their eyes met, and it took all her breath away. She didn't know what she saw in his eyes - uncertainty, compassion, worry ... his head seemed to be just as chaotic as hers. He exhaled heavily through his nose.

 

"If it would've been a heat in the moment thing, I wanted you to be able to move on from it. Without it ruining anything between us," he said gently, and Claire swallowed hard. It was as she had thought, he had expected her to do it because of the situation, simply out of fear of losing him. Maybe also as a stress reliever, or something in between. She blinked slowly, biting the inside of her cheek and sank deep into the sofa. She hated that he could even think such a thing. Sure, the timing hadn't been ideal, but in their situation - when would the timing ever be right? The fact that she could have lost him that night hadn't been the reason for the kiss. It had simply helped her pursue what her heart had long wanted, without overthinking it.

 

"It wasn't." Her voice was quieter than before, but he still looked at her. And she saw it in his eyes without him having to say anything. He already knew; it hadn't been a heat-of-the-moment thing. For a brief while, silence fell over them, uncomfortable and heavy, almost oppressive. She only managed to watch him out of the corner of her eye, but saw how tense his body was. "You kissed me," she said finally, which made him look up. "You kissed me back." Instinctively, he licked his lip, his gaze fixed on himself, before nodding.

 

"I know." He reached for his glass and emptied it in one sip, but held it in his hand for a moment longer, staring at the emptiness inside. Claire shook her head.

 

"And then you ignored me. You acted like it hadn't happened at all." He didn't answer immediately, but placed his glass on the table without a word. Claire furrowed her eyebrows, anger now rising alongside her general tension. "Do you have any idea how I felt? I thought I was going crazy." Neil nodded slowly and sighed before turning slightly toward her.

 

"I know." His eyes flicked all over her face as he considered his next words. "And I'm sorry. I wanted to ... do the right thing." Another hesitation that ended in a shake of his head. "And then I was afraid to do anything." Claire didn't answer, merely raised her eyebrow and waited for him to explain himself further. "I was afraid of what you'd say if I talked to you about it. That it wasn't real. Or worse - that it was." The lump in her throat made it hard for her to swollow. She felt her body preparing to let her heart break, and she fought with everything she had to resist reacting.

 

"It was real. And it's still real," she said finally, her voice low to keep it from breaking. Neil stroked his face and looked away.

 

"I know that. And that's the problem." Claire's hands clenched into fists and she pressed her lips together tightly, swallowing everything that was already on the tip of her tongue.

 

"Why?" was all she could manage. She already knew the answer to that, she knew how wrong it was that she had kissed him. How damn naive she had been to expect that this could have had a future, but she needed to hear it from him. He shook his head before a heavy breath escaped his lips. His gaze met hers, his brows slightly furrowed, but there was warmth and concern in his eyes.

 

"You do realize we're risking both our careers with that, right?" Claire blinked hard. Once. Then twice. She just stared at him, this time he didn't look away. She didn't understand what he was saying, it was as if they didn't even speak the same language anymore.

 

"I'm sure this isn't the first time Attending and Resident ..." she began, but Neil immediately raised his hand and shook his head again.

 

"No. But the hospital has strict rules that are for our own protection. For your protection. I don't want to put you in a situation where your career or reputation is jeopardized before you've even had a chance to ..." Claire's heart beat a little faster, she felt the blush rising in her cheeks. Without thinking, she scooted a little closer to him. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, but didn't move away.

 

"You're not putting me in any situation at all. It's just what it is. It's not your fault, and it's not mine either. It's just something we have to deal with," she said, feeling warmth spread through her body. So the way he'd been acting ... was just to protect her? Just like he always did. For a moment, neither of them said anything. This time it was less uncomfortable, more simply necessary to clear their thoughts. He still hadn't fully turned to her, but Claire could see the activity behind his eyes. He sighed heavily.

 

"Neither of us can deny that there's ... something. Between us. And it has been for quite some time," he finally said. The words hung heavy between them. Both had surely long been aware of how much truth there was in it, but hearing it out loud seemed different. More important. Because for the past few months, they had done nothing but deny that very thing over and over again. To others, and to each other. And now he was saying those words, just like that, openly, as if he weren't afraid of their implications. "I've been thinking about it for a while. Probably longer than I realize." He laughed a humorless laugh, and for a brief moment, everything fell silent again. Claire's heart was pounding painfully fast in her chest. So she hadn't imagined it; he felt the same way she did. She couldn't suppress a small smile. His gaze landed on her for a brief moment, her throat went dry, her cheeks flushed. "And when you kissed me ... " The small twitch in the corner of his mouth hinted at the beginning of a smile. He shook his head and looked away again, as if looking at her made it real again. "... I was almost relieved. Because then I didn't have to think about whether or not I should do it. God knows how much I wanted to." Claire said nothing for a few seconds, simply looking into his warm brown eyes, which had given her comfort in so many situations before. This time they radiated even more. Familiarity. The certainty that she wasn't alone in this.

 

"Really?" was all she managed to say, and Neil looked at her in disbelief.

 

"Of course," he said, almost apologetically, and she believed him. She thought of all the times she had wanted to kiss him, to feel his closeness. And she wondered if he had thought the same thing in those very moments. What had stopped them? What was stopping them now? Maybe it was logic, maybe the exact opposite. Maybe it was fear, or the mind, which always seemed to be louder than the heart. But in that moment, Claire's heart seemed to be screaming, it was pounding so loudly in her ears. All the reasons didn't matter; all that mattered was this undeniable attraction that had connected them for as long as they could remember. She said nothing. Her body was paralyzed, paralyzed by the certainty that he hadn't wanted to push her away, but had simply been just as overwhelmed by the desire to feel her close as the other way around. "I don't know how to handle this," he finally added with a sigh, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. Claire's hand jerked toward him almost as if by reflex, wanting to reach out, to bridge the distance. But she held back, clasped her hands together, and shook her head.

 

“You don’t have to handle anything. We both know what this is.” Neil didn’t look up, but his body visibly relaxed at her words, as if he believed them for the first time. Claire knew what this was between them, but it scared her too, probably for even more reasons than it scared him. She was afraid of what it would mean for their friendship, knew what she had risked by taking this step towards him. She was scared because she had always pushed those kinds of feelings away. Falling for someone meant opening up to the kind of pain she’d been running from her whole life. It was scary that he thought of her that way. Neil, of all people. The one person she couldn’t risk losing. It was scary to cross those boundaries, to let him close, to give him parts of herself she hadn’t thought anyone would ever want. And the worst part was, that she was afraid of how he would react when he saw these parts. If she wasn't enough. Because how could she ever be good enough for anything or anyone after every person in her life had made her feel like nothing more than a burden? She was literally panicking. Because if she opened up to someone and failed them, like all the other people before, she would just prove that she was never meant to be loved in the first place. It was safest to push people away before they got to know the real her, like she always had. But she had already given so much of herself to Neil, and he hadn't run like she thought he would. He had protected her. And that gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, it might be worth it.

"Neil," she whispered again, emphatically, and in doing so, she achieved what she wanted - he looked up.

 

"Claire ... it's not that I don't want it, believe me, I do. I just know what would happen. I've already been through it with Lim, and it would be much worse with you. I'm still your boss." He gave a humorless laugh before shaking his head. "I just don't want to be responsible for obstacles being put in your way when ..." He didn't need to continue; she already knew what he meant. The weight of his words hung heavy on them, and she noticed he could barely look at her before he swallowed hard. "I have feelings for you that I've tried so hard to suppress. Every day ..." She smiled slightly, but he still didn't look up. He straightened and exhaled heavily through his nose, shaking his head. When he turned to her, there was a bittersweet sadness in his eyes that she had never seen before. "But I don't think we should pursue it. We can‘t." When he said those words, his gaze was intense, and she understood immediately. That was it. He was drawing the final line; there couldn't be more between them. A heavy breath escaped her lips as she nodded weakly. She didn't know how he imagined it. She could have handled rejection, sure; it would have been difficult, probably nearly torn her in half, but she could have survived. But knowing that he felt the same way, but it was just too wrong to pursue it? How could she ever have continued like that?

But then she noticed that he was still looking at her, his features softening. Claire could feel his mind working when suddenly his eyes landed on her lips, just for a small, barely noticeable moment. She said nothing, but swallowed hard. She could feel the familiar tension building between them, warm and demanding. Her heart was beating far too fast in her chest and she wanted to force herself to look away, to avert her gaze from his eyes. But she couldn't. Something changed in his expression, something deeper, and then Claire saw it. The struggle between right and wrong, between wanting and being allowed, between holding on and letting go. She had almost memorized his face by now, could usually read it like an open book. But to see this now – the struggle with himself and the desire he had for her … she had probably never felt so attracted to him. It didn't help that the next moment his eyes darted back to her lips and anchored themselves there. She felt the tension in his body, noticed the small crease on his forehead, the small gap between his lips, the way his hands were pressed together.

Claire didn't move, too afraid of frightening him, but her body leaned almost imperceptibly toward him, every twitch of her muscles long since out of her control. Neil leaned forward as well, just a tiny bit, but it was enough to electrically charge all the air in the room. Claire's skin prickled, a soft sigh escaped her lips, causing him to look into her eyes. She expected him to back away, but he didn't, instead leaning forward a little further. They came close, much too close, not close enough. Their foreheads brushed, she could already feel his warm breath on her face. Her gaze also flickered to his lips, and it awakened the pleasant memory in her of how it had felt when they had pressed against hers. Warmth spread through her body, and she closed her eyes.

 

For a brief moment, nothing happened. No movement, not a word was spoken. They just sat there, in silence, so close together that the remaining distance between them was almost physically painful. She breathed it in, holding on to the moment as if it would shatter or be over in the next second. But then Neil moved, slowly, much too slowly, turning his head just a little, but it was enough. Their noses brushed lightly against each other, his skin seemed to burn through hers and then … His lips touched hers gently, just a brief brush of skin against skin, but it was enough to send ecstasies through her body. A tingling sensation that raced from her mouth through her entire body, her heart leaping from her chest. But he still didn't take a step back, putting more pressure behind his movement. It was only a fleeting, brief movement, a gentle touch, but so incredibly sweet that Claire thought her heart would explode. The next moment, he pulled away from her, forehead to forehead, eyes locked. They still said nothing, because they didn't have to. They'd known for a long time.

This boundary they had drawn for themselves faded, disappeared completely with their faltering breathing, with their own warmth on each other's bodies, with the distance that should no longer exist. And they lost the fight, or simply the strength to fight it. Neil was the first to move again. He leaned towards her again, pressed his lips gently against hers again, and her body reacted immediately, as if on autopilot. The moment his lips touched hers, the moment she felt that weightless second of finally, she kissed him back like it was the only thing that made sense anymore. Her movements adapted to his, soft at first, yet also demanding. His hands found their way to her cheeks all by themselves, his thumb gently stroked her skin, like he was afraid she might break. And maybe she would have, if he'd hesitated any longer. She felt his soft sigh like a hum on her mouth as her hand wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. It wasn't like the first time, no more insecurity, no adrenaline pumping through her veins, no fear of loss. It was a meeting of desire, of feelings that had been suppressed for so long that now they all burst out at once. They bridged all the remaining boundaries together this time, knowing full well that there would be no going back. His lips were warm and certain, and the way his hand cupped her cheek made her feel fragile and on fire all at once. This is happening, her brain whispered, disbelieving. He's kissing you. He's kissing you. After everything, after the silence, after the distance, after that first kiss he pretended hadn't happened, here he was, here, and she was already lost in him. It was too much. It wasn't enough. His breathing became more rapid as his hand closed around her waist, holding on tightly but gently. Arousal raging through their bodies like wildfire, touches that finally felt what they should feel … for something they shouldn't do, they were definitely in it way to deep to stop now. He had finally let go completely, just as she had. She deepened the kiss, but Neil had already beaten her to it. He deepened the kiss slowly, like he was still trying to hold back, still fighting whatever part of him wanted this as badly as she did. But it didn’t last. The second she let out a quiet, needy sound, something between a sigh and a whimper, his restraint snapped. He kissed her harder. Hungrier. His hands were suddenly at her lower waist, pulling her closer on the couch until there was no space left between them. She straddled his lap without even thinking, without even caring, like her body had made the decision for her. And he let her. She felt him suck in a sharp breath against her mouth. Her skin buzzed. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She wasn’t sure where her hands went after that - his shoulders, his hair, the curve of his back. Everywhere. Nowhere. Just needing to touch, to feel, to make sure he was real. She’d imagined this. So many times. At night, alone. In the on-call room, biting her lip to stop the want. In every quiet moment they stood too close but said nothing. But nothing, nothing compared to this. He kissed like he was making up for every second he’d denied them. And how it made up for it. After all the weeks, months, in which she had longed for his touch, his closeness, it was like a liberation. The wait - it had been worth it.

And she felt like she was going to fall apart right there in his arms. The kiss turned messy. Desperate. Open mouths and tangled fingers, soft moans swallowed between breaths. He groaned against her skin when she pressed her hips down just slightly, and the sound shot through her like wildfire. It was reckless. It was absolutely everything they’d tried to bury. But she didn’t stop. He didn’t stop. God, he felt good - solid and warm and just a little bit unsteady under her touch. She couldn’t get enough of him. Her hands were greedy now, sliding under his shirt, learning the shape of him by feel. She wanted more. More of his mouth, his hands, his sounds, that low, almost broken groan when she shifted her hips and his grip on her tightened like he was losing control. What are we doing? she thought wildly, somewhere beneath the rush of it. This was him. Neil Melendez. Her boss. The man who’d told her no and meant it. The man who wasn’t supposed to want her like this. And yet. He kissed her like he’d been waiting just as long. Like he’d finally stopped pretending. She knew this was dangerous. Knew this was a line they couldn’t uncross. But she didn’t care. Because for the first time in a long, long while, she felt alive. And nothing had ever felt more right. But the next moment, as her fingertips slid further up his stomach, he sucked in a sharp breath, not in an aroused way, but in a painful one. It was only a soft sound, almost inaudible over Claire's increasingly loud heartbeat and rapid breathing. But it had been enough to pull her out of her trance. She pulled away from him, just enough to look directly at him. He looked at her, a little confused, through heavy eyelids, his mouth still slightly open.

 

"I'm sorry, I - " she began, but his hands had already found their way to her neck and pulled her closer.

 

"I'm fine," he whispered before capturing her lips in a gentle kiss that rose to passion so quickly she almost felt dizzy. She wanted to protest, now that she was back in reality, wanted to beg him to take it easy if he still wasn't up to par. But the way his hands carefully slid under her top and stroked the bare skin of her back made her forget everything else. Time blurred between kisses and whispered touches, between the slow slide of hands against skin and the unspoken promises woven into every movement. Neil worshipped her with a patience that made her chest ache. Claire had never been handled like this before. No one had ever taken their time, not like he did. His hands traced over her with reverence, learning her, grounding her and she just got lost in him, in the sensation. In him finally being close. Arousal and passion took over, she lost all control of her body and she began to move her hips. Slowly, just enough so that she could feel his hardness beneath her. His hands moved from her back, forward to her stomach, along her sides, not demanding, but offering and she leaned into them, following the warm feeling as they came to rest at her breasts. Claire couldn't suppress the soft moan as she buried her hands in his hair. His body tensed noticeably, pressing against hers. She felt him move, as if he wanted to pick her up, but he seemed to be holding back, not giving in to the desire. Claire frowned, her mouth never leaving his, then decided to take matters into her own hands. In one swift movement, she slid off him so she was standing in front of him. She almost chuckled when she saw his confused expression, clouded with arousal. His lips slightly swollen, his eyes dark with desire, his hair messy like she'd never seen it before. Before he could say anything, she bit her lip.

 

"Where?" she asked, her voice hoarse and breathless. He blinked a few times to collect himself, but he seemed to understand immediately, because he also stood up, and before she knew it, his lips were on hers again, no trace of restraint, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It sent a shiver down her spine, she was already addicted to him. He didn't try to lift her up again, but Claire felt that everything in him wanted nothing more. He was probably frustrated because his body didn't handle what he wanted yet, but the greed he already radiated assured Claire that it would still be an unforgettable night. She didn't open her eyes, stumbled with him through the hallways of his apartment, letting him lead her, trusting him. Not for a second did she want to let him go. Only when he slammed the door behind him, probably louder than intended, did she realize they had reached his bedroom. For a brief moment, she opened her eyes and looked around, a slight smile appearing on her lips. It was typical Neil, and actually exactly as she had imagined. He didn't give her much time to look around, but captured her lips in another kiss as he gently pushed her deeper into the room. She allowed herself to wrap her arms tightly around his neck, pulling him even closer, and before she could think about it, she opened her mouth slightly to allow his tongue in. Neil didn't need another signal; he accepted the invitation without hesitation. She moaned softly as she surrendered to the new feeling, guided by passion and warmth. It wasn't a fight, it wasn't quick. It was intense, slow, just tasting each other, feeling each other. His hands found their way under her top again, and this time the touch made her shiver. She pressed herself against him as if by instinct, feeling his firm muscles against her body, his arousal pressing against her made her eyes roll into the back of her head, a moan escaping her lips. His fingers dug into her skin and suddenly a switch flipped. In one swift movement, he grabbed the hem of her top and pulled it expertly over her head. And suddenly his lips were gone and Claire opened her eyes.

He hadn't moved far from her, just enough so he could take in her body. Not in the way other men had looked at her before, not like he wanted to conquer her, but like he saw her. That made her swallow hard. Standing here, just inches away from him, she felt exposed in a way she never had before. It wasn't just the physical part that made her heart pound - it was the fact that this time, it meant something. Every other time had been easy. Detached. But this was Neil. Their eyes met, hazy, driven by desire, but also full of warmth. They said nothing for a brief moment, the only sound being their loud, irregular breathing.

 

"You're beautiful," he whispered, before placing a small kiss on the corner of her mouth, making her smile. "Are you sure?" he finally asked, not worried, but caring, as she lost herself in his eyes. If she looked at him the exact way he looked at her, he would see nothing but trust and lust. A smile played on her lips. Even now, he was careful, like he wanted to give her every opportunity to stop, to reconsider.

 

"If you really think we can stop now, you really underestimate your abilities." The cheeky grin she loved so much appeared on his face before his hand reached up and pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

 

"Not at all," he breathed, before leaning down and pressing light kisses to her chest. As if by reflex, she closed her eyes, following the warm feeling that radiated from his lips to her lower abdomen. "I just want you to be sure," he murmured against her skin. It took Claire a moment to piece the words together in her head, her body no longer able to form a clear thought as his lips gently moved down to her breasts.

 

"I'm sure," she replied, her words no more than a soft breath. And she was sure, even far beyond desire. She wouldn't have been able to stop long ago, even if she had wanted to, but that wasn't even on her mind. But it seemed to have been enough for him, because she felt his grin before he abruptly turned her around. She gasped in surprise, but immediately recovered when she felt his body press against hers from behind. His hand wrapped around her stomach, the other pushing her hair aside, freeing her neck. She closed her eyes in anticipation as goosebumps spread all over her body, feeling his breath already on her neck. He finally began placing kisses there, open-mouthed and soft at first. She leaned against him, to let herself go boneless against the comfort of his chest, a soft sigh escaping her slightly parted lips. His breath was warm, brushing against her skin in waves between each kiss. She felt it everywhere - down her spine, in her fingertips, her knees. His mouth moved slowly, deliberately, the scrape of faint stubble sending a shiver up through her chest. Her pulse kicked, fluttering high in her throat, and her breath caught as he reached that tender spot just below her ear. Each kiss landed with purpose, open-mouthed and slow, just enough pressure to make her shiver. He found her pulse point and lingered there, sucking gently, and her breath hitched, sharp and audible. She felt his smile against her skin, that low, knowing curve of his mouth like he could feel what he was doing to her. Her head tilted back without thinking, giving him more. Offering. His hands slid up, fingers splaying over her ribs, her sides, pulling her closer, until there was no space left between them. She could feel every inch of him, solid and warm at her back, the steady rhythm of his breathing disrupted now, matching hers. She bit her lip, hard, trying to stay quiet, but her body betrayed her. His hands slid slowly up her arms, then down again, fingertips dragging, teasing. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough.

 

“I love hearing you like that,” he murmured, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke. She couldn’t answer. Not with words. Her body was already giving him everything. He pressed another kiss to the base of her neck, slower this time, almost reverent, and her eyes fluttered closed again. A sound escaped her throat before she could catch it, soft and broken, and that was it. She felt his hands tighten on her waist, drawing her back into the curve of his body until she could feel everything, his need, his restraint, the full storm of him held just barely in check. He groaned, quiet and raw, like her closeness was undoing him. “I want you.” he breathed, his mouth never leaving her neck. Her eyes shot open, her heart stopping. The truth behind his words made her shiver. She licked her lip before turning to him, meeting his gaze. She didn't have to say anything; her body spoke for her, reaching out to meet him, her hands already slightly trembling.

 

“I want you too,” she whispered. His fingers slid into her hair slowly, deliberately, gathering it at the nape of her neck. She felt the tug before it happened, just the smallest shift of pressure, and then he pulled. Not harsh, not cruel. Just enough. Her head tilted back on instinct, exposing her throat, baring herself to him without even thinking. It was like he already knew her body, what it needed, what she needed; before her brain could catch up. He stared at her then. No words. Just that look. Burning, dark, reverent. Then he just kissed her. Finally. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was months of restraint unraveling all at once. His mouth was hungry, insistent, tasting her like he’d been starving. And she met him there, matched him, hands in his hair, clutching his shirt, pulling him closer like she could drag him under with her. When he deepened the kiss, his hand still fisted in her hair, she let out a sound that made him shudder. He broke the contact of their lips just long enough to breathe against her mouth. She wanted to say something, anything, but the next moment she felt him pushing her further and anything that finally brought her closer to the bed, she gratefully accepted. When her legs touched the edge of the bed, they stopped. His hands moved gently but demandingly down her body again, feeling every inch of her stomach until they reached the waistband of her jeans. His lips moved back to her neck, less reluctant than before, while his fingers were busy with the button on her pants. Her breath caught, heat flooded her entire body. She could hold back no longer – her hands also found the fabric of his shirt and, with a skillful movement, pulled it over his head. Before she had a chance to catch a glimpse of his finally bare torso, he pushed her gently onto the bed and captured her lips again in a brief but passionate kiss. Before she could protest, he moved on, breathing a touch to every spot he brushed past as he passed. He lingered a moment longer on her stomach when Claire's breath caught. But then he moved on, his hands found the fabric of her pants, and in just a few moments, he slipped them off her almost trembling legs. She lay before him now, in nothing but her underwear, completely on display, but she didn't even notice. Instead, she propped herself up on her elbows so she could finally get a closer look at him - his defined muscles, his rapidly rising and falling chest, the way his body was tense in the most beautiful way, as if he couldn't hold back any longer, and the large, painful-looking hematoma spreading across his torso. Her eyes lingered there for a brief moment; it was like a piercing gaze, back to reality, to the place where just a few days ago she would have thought she had lost him forever. Without thinking about it or being able to control it, she raised her hand. Her fingertips gently found the green-blue spot, ghosting over it, almost afraid of breaking him, even though he was steadfast in front of her. Suddenly, she felt his warm hand around her wrist. Before she could look up, he squatted down in front of her, his eyes finding hers immediately, a warm smile on his lips before he pressed a kiss to her hand.

 

"You're staring at me," he stated with a cheeky grin, but Claire could hear in the tone of his voice that he already knew what was going through her mind. She smiled, almost apologetically. "I'm fine," he added before she could say anything. "Better than fine." Claire bit her lip to suppress a chuckle, but failed. "Now," he breathed, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pushed her back onto the bed. "Keep staring." She propped herself up on her elbow again and did as she was told.

It was easy to look at him and lose herself in the sight. He was so breathtakingly beautiful, not just attractive - it was obvious how much care he took of his body, every muscle defined, every vein that stood out against his skin flattering the image - but beautiful, with the small wrinkles on his face that marked his life and that had become a familiar map to Claire. His dimples that always made his smile a little more irresistible than it already was; the small line between his eyebrows that always stood out when he was concentrating, his dark brown eyes that she‘d got lost into more often than she could even remember; the gray hairs that stood out against his otherwise dark hair; his tattoos ... the one on his forearm that she had stared at so often, hoping to find the meaning in it, and ... the deer that stretched far further down his body than she had expected. She bit the inside of her cheek to swallow the words that were already on the tip of her tongue. Of course, the tattoo was beautiful too; God forbid that any part of his body was not perfect. She didn't even realize how lost she was in the sight of him until she noticed the smug grin on his face. She felt her cheeks flush, but she ignored it, too lost in the show he was putting on for her. The way he slowly undid his belt, his eyes never leaving her, his eyes dark, half-closed, and full of desire. Her pulse hammered in her throat, her breathing became labored as she followed his movements. And when he finally freed himself of the superfluous trousers, she swallowed hard, all the warmth of her body pooling in her lower abdomen, instinctively rubbing her legs together, already feeling the throbbing desire and demanding wetness down there. She was powerless - normally she was the one putting on a show for her partner, but this ... was hypnotic. Seeing the bulge in his tight underwear, feeling the tingling sensation in her body that the sight triggered, it was overwhelming and yet not enough. "Look at you," he said suddenly, tearing her out of her focus. "You're stunning. Especially when you look at me like that." She wanted to reply, but the words dried up in her throat. She swallowed hard as he approached her. Her body ached painfully to feel his bare skin against hers, and without being able to stop it, she sat up and stretched toward him, unable to wait. When their lips met again, she felt the wide grin on his face, but that didn't stop her. She pressed herself against him as if her life depended on it, his warm skin finally against hers, burning through her entire body, unstoppable and tingling.

She didn’t remember how they shifted.

One moment she was kissing him like she couldn’t breathe without him, and the next her back was pressed into the cushions, Neil hovering above her, his weight warm and solid, grounding her even as everything inside her spun. His fingertips grazing the bare skin at her waist. She shivered. Not from cold, but from feeling. God, she couldn’t remember the last time someone touched her like this. Like she was something to be taken care of. He leaned down, lips brushing hers again, slower now, deeper, like he was tasting her, committing her to memory. Her hands were in his hair, soft and a little messy from her fingers. She tugged gently, and the sound he made in response was so raw, so real, it made her ache.

“Claire,” he breathed against her mouth. Just her name. But it cracked something open in her. She looked up at him, his eyes dark, lips swollen, hair a little wild, and something in her chest pulled tight. This wasn’t just lust. Not anymore. Maybe it never had been. This was want, yes. Hunger, absolutely. But beneath it, woven into every kiss, every touch, every shaky breath, was the truth she’d been too scared to say out loud. This meant something more. Now she felt it, perhaps for the first time that evening. This was actually real. Not just a fantasy that had become reality, but feelings that were real. His hand slid up her ribcage, slow and careful, like he didn’t want to startle her. But she wasn’t scared, not of this. Not of him. She arched into his touch, silently asking for more, and he gave it. Her legs wrapped around his waist, as if out of habit, pulling him closer. This elicited loud moans from both of them as his hardness finally pressed against her core, heat pooling there, just begging for release. His mouth found the hollow of her throat, her collarbone, each kiss pressing into her skin like a promise. She let her eyes fall closed for a moment, let herself feel it all, the warmth of his body against hers, the scrape of his stubble along her jaw, the way his fingers spread over her skin like he couldn’t bear not to touch her everywhere at once. This wasn’t just two people giving in. This was everything that had been building between them, the tension, the silence, the restraint - finally breaking. When she opened her eyes again, he was watching her. Because he felt it just like she did. And God, that was almost more dangerous than everything else.

 

“There is no turning back now.“ Her voice came out quiet, breathless.

 

“I know,” he said, just as quietly. And then he kissed her again - like that was the point. Not going back. Only forward. And suddenly all the fear, all the worry, was forgotten. He had told her they shouldn't take this step, and then held her hand when they took it together. He knew what was at stake, and yet he had chosen it anyway. Had chosen her. Something no one had ever done for her before, and while that certainty frightened her, it still made her feel like she had been right. He had been worth it. His hands moved gently over her body, his lips followed the path of his fingers, trailing light kisses across her jaw and down the line of her neck. His breath was warm against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. But it wasn’t just his touch that made her heart race; it was the way he was with her, the way he made her feel seen, heard. He wasn’t just trying to satisfy his own desires; he was giving her the space to feel her own, and it made her ache with something more than want. His fingertips stroked her skin, sometimes gently, sometimes more demandingly, and it almost drove her crazy. She wanted to finally feel him, to finally feel the part of his body that was still pressed against her core. But he took his time, exploring her body, and Claire realized that she couldn't remember the last time she'd had sex without being drunk, and that she wished she were now. It was easier when she had been, like she was on autopilot. Now it felt more serious because somehow he still managed to make her nervous. Not because he was unpredictable, but because he wasn't. He was trust. The next moment, she felt him move, gently pushing her legs apart again, and the anticipation elicited another moan from her. And while she expected him to finally just free her from her underwear, he didn't. But she still gasped as his hand suddenly slid beneath the fabric. Her eyes closed, but her senses were heightened, every inch of her attuned to him. She could feel the tension coiling inside her, that familiar tightness building in her chest, but this time, it was different. She felt his body tense as his fingers found her already hot center. His fingers brushed against her with the perfect amount of pressure, Claire's entire body went still for a moment. A gasp slipped from her lips, a soft exhale of surprise and something else, something she couldn't quite name, but she could feel it deep inside, spreading like warmth through her veins. She blinked hard, her body already more than ready to receive, but her head on the ground.

 

"What are you doing?" she breathed. His lips moved from her lips down to her neck, finding her pulse point, where he bit lightly and all her thoughts blurred into a fog.

 

"I want to give you a little attention," he murmured against her neck and Claire shook her head.

 

"Why?" Neil raised his head and looked into her eyes, his fingers pausing for a moment.

 

"Why not?" Claire searched for the right words, but at that moment she wasn't even sure if they existed. Her throat was completely dry, swallowing was difficult.

 

"I want you." She finally answered, breathless, already reaching for his lips again, but he just smirked.

 

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered before pressing a gentle kiss to her chin. His gaze searched hers, and before she could say anything else, his fingers moved again. Slowly, carefully, but it was enough to take her breath away. His eyes never left her face, watching her reaction, and she wanted to say something, wanted to tell him that she finally wanted to feel him inside her. But his hand had slipped between them like it belonged there, like he'd known exactly what she needed before she could even ask. And she finally closed her eyes and let him have her and her lust. His fingers moved with quiet precision, gentle, slow, deliberate, not just coaxing pleasure from her, but giving it. Like it was a gift. Like she deserved it. He let a heavy breath escape his lungs before pressing his lips against her, against every part of her body he could reach. And for a moment, she forgot to be guarded. She forgot the part of herself that always kept a wall up, even in bed. Forgot the voice in her head that told her intimacy always came with a price. She just … felt. Him. His breath against her throat, the soft way he kissed her temple, the way his hand moved, tender, patient, devastating. She wanted to say something, but no words came. Instead, her body reacted on its own, her hips instinctively shifting toward him, her back arching slightly as if trying to pull him deeper into her. She wasn’t sure what she was asking for, but in that moment, she didn’t need to. His knowing, steady touch was all she needed. Neil's fingers moved in soft circles, with just enough pressure to make heat surge through her body. The tension in her chest was growing, swelling until she thought she might break, but Neil wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t moving too fast or too slow; he was giving her time, letting her find her way. Claire’s eyes fluttered closed again, a soft gasp escaping her lips when his hand brushed against her, gentle yet possessive, as though he was claiming her in a way no one ever had. She wanted him to push further, to take her to the edge she was desperately yearning to reach, but Neil’s touch remained soft, as though he was reminding her that he wasn’t rushing, that he would give her all the time she needed to let go. Her hips pressed against him, and as if by reflex, she looked down at his hand, as if she couldn‘t understand how his touch could feel like this. She said nothing, just watched as his fingers slowly continued to circle her. Her hands went into his hair, pulling gently.

 

"That feels good," she breathed before she could stop herself. The way he caressed her, taking his time finding and playing with her most sensitive spot, sent warm shivers down her spine.

 

"Yeah?" She felt his slight grin against her skin. "Good." And just like that, he kept going, alternating between gentle and quick, intense movements, making her gasp. She wasn't used to being touched like this - when her partner had touched her like this, it had always felt like a means to an end, to get her going faster, as if it were just part of the experience. But his touch was different, as if he was only interested in her. Her heart raced, her breath quickening as the pleasure built in waves, growing with each tender stroke. And then he inserted a finger, groaning at the wetness he felt, and Claire's hands tightened in his hair as she let her head fall back, unable to suppress a loud moan. He didn't comment, but simply added another finger and began to pump slowly. His thumb still circling her clit, Claire was simply lost, lost in the warmth radiating throughout her body, lost in his skilled movements, in the way his fingers hit just the right spot, again and again.

The world outside of them seemed to vanish, all that existed was the sensation, the touch, the rhythm of their bodies moving together as if they were in perfect harmony. But it wasn’t just physical, it was emotional, too. Neil’s touch wasn’t just about satisfying her and something about that scared her away. Her hand caught his wrist, gently but firmly. Neil stilled, immediately. Their eyes met, his dark, full of questions but he didn’t ask. He didn’t look hurt. Just … surprised. Like he knew something had shifted, but didn’t know why. She didn’t explain. Couldn’t. Instead, she offered a small, slightly breathless smile.

 

“Your turn.” Neil said nothing for a moment as she sat up, and he let her roll him onto his back, but his gaze never left her.

 

"I wasn't done with you yet," he said, slightly amused, but also confused. The way he said it, so full of desire, made her heart race. Instead of answering, she reached behind her and, in one swift movement, undid the clasp of her bra, carelessly tossing it into the corner. It had the desired effect; his gaze landed immediately on her breasts, and she didn't hesitate, reaching for his hands and gently placing them on her exposed skin. He closed his eyes for a moment, and Claire moaned softly as his fingers closed around her.

 

"I want to feel you," she breathed, and he opened his eyes. His brow twitched, just a flicker of hesitation, maybe even concern, but he nodded. Didn’t push. That was the thing about him. He always knew when not to push. With a quick movement she pulled the remaining fabric off her body. She sat up slowly, straddling him. His hands went instinctively to her waist, warm and steady, but he didn’t pull her close. He let her take the lead, and that felt right. She needed to feel like this was hers. Needed to feel like she wasn’t losing herself in him - even if that was exactly what was starting to happen. Her fingers ran down his chest, slow and exploratory. He exhaled slowly, watching her, eyes heavy but open. Always watching.

 

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice low, rough with want. She nodded.

 

"What? You don't like it when I take what I want?" she asked innocently before biting her lip, letting her hands carefully wander down his body until they reached the waistband of his underwear. He didn't respond immediately, so she let her hands wander further until they finally brushed over his bulge. His eyes closed, his teeth clenched, and he exhaled heavily. Claire watched him respond to her touch, the way she had control over him. It gave her comfort and that aroused her even more.

 

"Okay, what do you want?" he asked with a far too confident grin that made Claire chuckle. His breathing became labored as she continued to let her hands explore his body, playing with his hardness.

 

"I need to feel you," she said husky, and it wasn’t untrue. It just wasn’t all of it. He let out a quiet sound, something between a sigh and a groan, and leaned back, giving her space, letting her move at her own pace. "I want to know how you feel inside me," she added, biting her lip as Neil squeezed his eyes shut, as if this was driving him as crazy as it was driving her. "So ... I hope you have condoms. Because honestly, I wasn't prepared for all ..." she made a sweeping gesture over his almost completely naked body. "- of this.“ Neil opened his eyes immediately, his brows slightly furrowed, as if he were really thinking about it. Claire worried that he might have been just as unprepared as she was. She didn't know how she would react if, after all this, they weren't able to go through with it.

 

"I think there should still be one or two in the bedside table," he murmured, though not particularly sure. Claire sighed impatiently and leaned over him to start searching. Luckily, it wasn't as big an undertaking as she'd expected - it was still Neil, the drawer was neatly organized, and as soon as she opened it, she could see a single one lying there. Claire hadn't taken him for someone who didn't have condoms at home, but at that moment, she didn't really want to think about why he didn't, so she just grabbed the wrapper before closing the drawer. In the corner of her eye, she could see him already taking off his underwear, anticipation rising within her once more. His hands quickly found their way to the insides of her thighs, setting her skin ablaze once again. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, simply feeling his touch again. But then she moved back again, but before she could move further, he grabbed her wrist, searching her gaze. It wasn't accusing, not demanding, just concerned and warm. As if he were simply reassuring himself that she was still fully into it, and she was. Now she was in her element. She leaned down and kissed him. Warm and gentle at first, letting him know that she wanted this, that she wanted him, and that she was sure. But they quickly regained their passion, the kiss wild and messy, nothing more than pent-up tension begging to be released. So she shifted a little more so she could sit on top of him. He was hard between her legs, already as ready for her as she was the other way around. Claire began to move slowly, her bare skin against his, and it made them both moan. In one swift movement, he sat up, pulling her even closer to him, his hands finding their way to her breasts. "God, Claire. You are … perfect," he murmured, his fingers circling her nipples, gently playing with them. Claire bit her lip; the sensation of him gently tugging on them made her almost wetter. As his mouth followed his hand, Claire couldn't wait any longer and took care of the condom. It sent tingles through her entire body as he moaned against her skin while she held his length completely in her hand. She swallowed hard, preparing herself for the sensation after so long. She stroked him with her hand, even though it wasn't necessary; he was now incredibly ready to receive some attention, and then she positioned herself over him.

And when she sank down onto him, slow and steady, his head fell back with a sharp, broken breath. She felt every inch of him entering her, a warm wave of desire coursing through her with every single second. For a moment, she had to close her eyes, adjusting to the sensation he triggered when he finally filled her completely. Her mouth hung slightly open, soft gasps escaping. But Claire kept her eyes on him. She wanted to see it all, every flicker of reaction, every muscle that tensed under her touch, every sound he made. She wanted to memorize him the way he’d tried to memorize her. Maybe that was safer. Maybe giving him this was the only way she could keep herself from disappearing into what he made her feel. And when his hands gripped her hips a little tighter, and his gaze found hers again, dark and desperate and undone, she realized he wasn’t just letting her take control. He was letting her have him. And that, more than anything, made her tremble.

She moved slowly at first, testing, adjusting, finding the right angle. His hands flexed on her hips, and she could feel the restraint in him, the tension humming through his whole body like a taut wire. And god, the way he looked at her. Eyes heavy, mouth parted, chest rising and falling fast beneath her. She shifted her hips, and he let out a quiet curse, low and reverent like a prayer he hadn’t meant to speak. Claire bit her lip, head tilting back slightly as she began to move with more confidence, more rhythm. She felt everything - every inch of him inside her, every press of his skin against hers, the raw heat building with every roll of her hips. It wasn’t just physical. It never could’ve been, not with him. They moved together instinctively, like they already knew the rhythm, like their bodies had been waiting for this longer than they were willing to admit. He didn’t grip her like she was a fantasy. He held her like she was real. His hands slid up her sides, fingers brushing under her breasts but never taking more than she gave. He met her rhythm, hips lifting into her gently, gasps escaping him that were soft and wrecked and arousing. Her moans grew louder, uncontrollable, as she found the right angle and he hit the perfect spot. Again and again and again. She chased the sensation, the tingling, the heat building inside her, ready to tear her to pieces. His gaze never dropped, never drifted. It was on her, wide and reverent and raw, until she had to look away just to breathe.

“Claire …” His voice found her, low and wrecked. The way he said her name, like it broke something in him, made her hips move even harder without thinking. Made her chase that sound, again and again, until his grip tightened and his mouth parted, breath stuttering out in quiet, helpless gasps. She wanted this. Wanted him like this. Unraveled. Ruined. Claire felt that she was about to come undone and slowed her movements a little, delaying the feeling a little longer. She leaned down, mouth brushing his neck, his jaw, his lips, grazing and teasing but never quite giving in. Not fully. Not yet. She felt his pulse beneath her mouth, fast and hard, and smiled against his skin.

 

“Still okay?” she whispered, her hands gently stroking his injuries. He nodded, breathless. His chest rose and fell rapidly, every muscle tense beneath her fingertips.

 

“You’re … incredible.” His voice was heavy, barely audible, his hands everywhere on her body at once. It hit her too hard.

 

“Don’t,” she whispered, pressing a hand to his chest - not to push him away, just to slow whatever was building between them. His eyes searched hers, and she could feel the question in them. But he didn’t speak. „You talk too much,“ she added with a soft smile. He just nodded slightly, grounding himself with his hand on the small of her back, letting her keep the silence she needed. She lowered her forehead to his, their skin damp and warm, and closed her eyes. It was easier not to look at him, so she kissed him again. Her mouth fierce, her hands slipping to the back of his neck to pull him closer. And he met her with equal urgency now, kissing her like he’d needed this for months. Like he’d missed her even when she was right in front of him. She rolled her hips again, this time deeper, slower, and his mouth broke from hers with a groan that made her shiver. His hands found her butt, pressing her closer to him, and she kept the rhythm. Not frantically, but slow and deep. He hit her spot just right, her eyes rolled back into the back of her head, and she opened her mouth, letting the loud moan escape, already knowing it was driving him crazy. Her rhythm grew less controlled now, the sensation overwhelming, his body moving beneath her, his hands roaming up her sides, feeling every now wet part of her body. He sat up slightly, one hand sliding up her back to cup the nape of her neck, and she let him, forehead to forehead, breath mingling, everything slick with heat and closeness. He was holding her now, not guiding, just there, letting her lead, but showing her he was in it. Every second. Every inch.

Her thighs trembled around him, breath catching, pressure building in a way that made her feel helpless and alive and terrified all at once. Her eyes fluttered closed, lips parting. His hand gently cupped her chin, turning her head toward him.

 

“Look at me,” he whispered, she did, and it was almost enough to send her over the edge. His needy eyes, that were saying everything they’ve never said before, seeing that he was holding back just as much as she was, and the pure pleasure written all over his face. His hand moved to her throat, his fingers closing around it, squeezing gently, just enough to make her moan. It was amazing how he seemed to know her body, already anticipating the touch she would need before she even needed it. Her movements grew rougher, more desperate. Less about control now, more about chasing the rush before it slipped out of reach. His breath stuttered, and his hands moved again, one sliding up to cup her face, the other steadying her hips as she rode him harder now, unable to hold back. At this point she was just bouncing up and down on him, no rhythm, no technique, just a chaos of quick, hasty movements, sweat and the pent-up warmth between her legs.

She didn’t know whose gasp came first, whose body gave out first, his or hers, but the moment crested and broke like a wave, crashing through them both. Her fingers clutched at his shoulders, her breath hitched. Her hips continued to move slowly as she let the waves of pleasure travel through her body.

And then everything stilled.

The kind of stillness that made her hyperaware of every inch of skin, every racing heartbeat, every unspoken word caught between two people tangled in each other. She stayed on top of him, breathless, flushed, the sweat on their skin making it hard to tell where she ended and he began. But she didn’t move. Not yet. Because she wasn’t ready for what might follow - for the questions in his eyes, for the way she might’ve just let him in too far. For what it would mean if she admitted how much it mattered, that she’d slept with someone she really cared about. And that really cared about her. That this was more than a need met, this was bonding, togetherness. And even though she loved every single second of it and couldn't imagine ever leaving him again, she was afraid that if she opened her mouth to say anything, she would ruin it. So she kissed him instead. Slow. Deep.

And maybe he felt it too, that flicker of fear under the kiss, because when she pulled back, he just rested his forehead against hers, letting the moment settle. No words. No pressure.

Just her heart pounding. His hand still on her back. And the terrifying, impossible weight of knowing she’d never be able to forget the way he made her feel.

 

---

 

Notes:

Damn. What a ride. (I'm talking about the chapter, guys, relax lol)

So, we got an insight in Neils thought process, but next week, we will finally be in his POV again. FINALLY. It will explain alot more,
he was obviously a bit distracted tonight. 😏
So, this is where it all starts, I guess. Claire is still overhelmed by what she feels and will have to talk about that to him at some point.
Oh and btw. The "look at me" - part. It was necessary after all their stolen glances, we all agree, right? Good.

We will see where this will go. Even tho they've crossed this line, it's not gonna get less intense, promise. Next week will also give us some drama.
So here for it and I'm glad if you are, too 🥰

Chapter 7: Under the cover of darkness

 

---

 

Whether he would admit it or not, Neil had known how this evening would end before she'd even entered his apartment. Sure, his intention had been different - ​​he'd wanted to draw that line once and for all, nip in the bud what had been growing between them over the past few months and remain friendly, professional. Not because he wanted to, but because it would have been the right thing to do. It wasn't fair to either of them to take that step, which was why he never had. Because being in a relationship with colleagues at the hospital was ... complicated and exhausting. It demanded everything from a relationship, and how could've he asked that of her after everything she'd been through? A relationship that followed protocol, only for her talent to be doubted again? Neil hadn't exactly had the best experiences with relationships with the women he'd worked with, and the last thing he wanted was to lose Claire, or worse, hurt her. Something had always ultimately not worked out, which had led to the end of his relationships, and even if he didn't see any of those things in Claire at that moment, he couldn't risk it. With Audrey, it had been clear from the start that it wouldn't work out in the long run; their differences were simply too great. But with Jessica, it had also seemed like there was a future, and from one day to the next, a wall had built up between them that they could no longer overcome. Claire deserved better, and if he was honest, there was this selfish part of him that simply didn't want to risk her turning away from him again. It was difficult for him to deal with his feelings for her; they were increasingly bubbling to the surface and becoming so loud that he had decided not to completely dismiss the possibility of something more developing between them, but merely ... to postpone it. The fact that she was his resident made the whole thing even more complicated, which is why he had planned to wait until she had completed her residency to deal with his feelings. Maybe he'd even gotten lucky and his feelings would have faded away on their own until then. Maybe she would have met someone who made her happy, or he would have started dating other women again, so that the tension between them would eventually ease, leaving nothing but their friendship. But then the earthquake hit, and suddenly it no longer felt fair to them to simply ignore everything that had already seemed so obvious between them, that both friends and strangers had noticed it immediately. Because who was he to say they would even have this time together? Who could promise that they could play with time as if it were a given? He was a surgeon, and he knew how quickly life could be over, whether through a sudden illness, an accident, or simply fate having other plans. He was aware of this, but kept pushing the thought away. But as he sat in the back of the ambulance, his body stiff and aching, not knowing how bad his situation really was, it was brought home to him again. Could he ever have forgiven himself if he hadn't pursued this with Claire when he still had the chance? Because no matter how special what had developed between them was, this with Claire had the potential to be something unique, a once in a lifetime thing. And then, after everything that had happened - the earth shaking, his body struggling out of the rubble, the hours he'd spent on his feet when all he wanted to do was scream - Claire had made the decision for him. As soon as she’d come close to him, his mind had shut down, and nothing else had mattered but being with her, to kiss her back like his life depended on it, because maybe, maybe it did. It had felt natural, so completely granted, yet greater than anything he'd ever imagined.

And then his mind had returned. For a while, he'd convinced himself it was nothing more than a in the heat of the moment, but subconsciously, he knew that hadn't been the whole truth. Whatever exactly had caused her to do this in that moment, it was more than that; it was something that should or had to have happened weeks ago. And he knew that, not just because it had felt so right, but because it had been the only thing that had made sense. For weeks, he hadn't been able to think of anything other than telling her how he felt, kissing her the way she deserved - not just to see if it was a good fit, as it had been with Dash, but in a way that proved to her that she deserved to be kissed like that every time. But a small part of him panicked, maybe because it had felt so good, maybe because it had been so wrong. How could he have categorized something like that? Something that shouldn't have been there, but had forced its way out, where it could no longer be repressed, where it had been out there, drastic and visible to everyone. And when he'd been called into the OR again, he'd been almost relieved, even though in retrospect, he'd wondered what it would have changed if he hadn't been. Because the surgery had been a simple one, giving him plenty of time to think and rethink it. To play out every scenario, no matter how dire, in his head. And yet, he was glad he was wearing the face mask, which hid the smile that crept onto his lips every time he thought of her. She'd already left by the time he was finally able to head home, and so he hadn't seen her again until the next time he went to work ... In his apartment, he had been toying with the idea of ​​calling her the whole time, certain that she had been just as sleepless as he had. But a part of him had held him back - maybe it was logic or fear, he wasn't sure. The next day, he had had to take care of Gaby, whom he had visited in the temporary care facility - she was unwell, just as he had expected. She was confused and unable to cope with the new situation. Neil hated how powerless he had been in that situation, because in the end, he had no choice but to leave after a visit that lasted several hours, leaving her behind. In retrospect, he certainly wasn't proud of how he had behaved, and he could hardly justify it. When he returned to work, all he wanted was to return to everyday life and forget everything that was now only complicating his life. But when he saw Claire, it was as if he hadn't been able to think anymore. He hadn't been able to read her thoughts on the whole situation, whether she was glad she'd taken this step or regretted it. But he hadn't dared to ask her. The consequences that would await them were far too grave for Neil to even allow himself to think about them. But he knew he was hurting her, and that was breaking him. He wanted to stand firm, to make the decision for both of them, to protect her from what a relationship with him would look like. When he'd invited her into his apartment, he'd wanted to make her feel like he wouldn't push her away completely, abandon her, as she probably thought he would. To give her the truth; that it wasn't because of her or how he felt about her, but because of the circumstances that made it impossible for them to pursue what was going on between them. He didn’t just want her. He wanted to protect her. And if that meant keeping his distance, biting back every honest word, and watching her fall for someone else one day, so be it. He’d break his own heart before he ever broke hers. But then, when he'd seen her sitting there, disappointed yet guarded, his head stopped thinking and his heart took over his body. Neil wanted to tell her he was sorry, that he didn't want to break her heart, but the words caught in his throat. She'd been sure of what they'd done, sure that he was worth taking that step. Who was he to decide she wasn't worth it? And then he'd simply given in, to the need to be close to her, to the attraction that had connected them for as long as he could remember.

Everything after that felt like a warm dream. He'd noticed her hesitation at times, worried that she might regret it after all, or at least be afraid of the consequences it could have on her career. So he'd given her space to breathe, to be, to feel that he was in this with her. That everything that would happen from that point on would be a decision they could make together. And he was glad when she'd finally let go.

 

“I, uh … didn’t mean to get lost in that,” she murmurs as she climbs off him and wraps the blanket tightly around her body. He doesn’t move, but the faint curve of a smile at the corner of his mouth makes her relax abit.

 

“Yeah, well. I didn’t mean to kiss you earlier either,” he says, voice rough, still low with leftover heat. “But here we are.” Claire lets out a breath that is almost a laugh. Almost. She pulls the blanket tighter around herself.

 

“I’m not good at this,” she admits, softer now. “The whole … after part.” He turns to her, catches her gaze with his, and smiles slightly. There is no fear in her eyes, but something almost like shame.

 

„You mean the part where we sit here and pretend we’re not both freaking out a little?” She laughs softly, and the sound warms Neil's heart like it always did. She shakes her head, but her muscles visibly relax.

 

"Speak for yourself," Claire says before falling back onto the bed and sighing softly. Neil chuckles and scoots a little closer to her, but keeps a certain distance.

 

"You're the one who curls up in a blanket like there's something to be embarrassed about," he says with a small, warm smile. "There isn't, by the way, but I think you already know that yourself." She nods slowly, without looking at him. A silence falls over them that isn't pleasant, but clearly needed. Neil is searching her face for an answer, but doesn't find one.

 

"I don't want you to think I regret this," she says finally. "It's just ..." She turns her head toward him, their eyes meeting immediately. "A lot all at once." Neil smiles understandingly and says nothing for another moment. Then he rolls onto his back and sighs.

 

"I know." Her eyes return to his face, but he keeps his gaze upward. "I'm still glad it happened." When he turns back to her, there is a slight smile on her face.

 

"Me too." For a while, neither of them speaks, their eyes fixed on each other as if neither of them has yet realized that this is reality. “You should probably get up,” she says with a smirk. “Before I accidentally make you fall for me or something.” Neil is grinning, but it is quiet. Sincere.

 

“Too late.”

 

As he looked at her body next to him, her curls spread all over the pillow, he couldn't help but grin. He didn't know if he'd made a decision or if he'd finally just surrendered to what was inevitable, but in this moment, it no longer mattered. Whether it was right or wrong, who had made which move, how many things had had to happen for them to be lying here together ... They would feel the full extent of what they'd gotten themselves into in the morning, but now, in the middle of the night, with the moon shining through the window, it was as if time had frozen. The world was still. Quiet. It didn't matter who they were or who they were meant to be, they were simply them. Claire and Neil. As it had probably been destined to be for quite some time. When her body twitched slightly, it brought Neil back to reality, his eyes on her bare back. He'd noticed that she'd turned away from him, keeping more distance than he'd personally preferred, but he'd tried not to overthink it. He knew it had been a significant evening for both of them and didn't want to put any more pressure on her than necessary. He'd been impressed by her, the courage he'd spent so long searching for within himself, but that was just Claire. When she wanted something, she was hard to dissuade, so Neil was lucky he'd been one of those things. The next moment, she rolled over, his heart racing in the best possible way. Only when her gaze fell on him did he realize she'd already been awake. A small smile played on her lips, and even in the nearly dark bedroom, he could see her eyes lighting up.

"Not a cuddler, huh?" he teased her with a slight grin, realizing once again how far away she was from him. He expected a cheeky remark or a grimace, but instead a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth before she turned to him without hesitation and scooted closer. As if by reflex, he put his arm around her waist and pulled her even closer, and a breath escaped from his lungs, which he didn't know how long he'd been holding. He felt her warm breath on his bare skin as she sighed contentedly. For a while, neither of them spoke, perhaps out of fear of ruining the moment, perhaps simply to enjoy each other's closeness. It was a heavy silence, but not uncomfortable; rather, it was charged, full of unspoken words and boiling emotions, but Neil had no problem being overwhelmed by it. His hand was on the back of her neck, his fingers playing with her hair, which was now a wild mess, her fingertips gently stroking his skin, circling his tattoo all the way up to his neck. He grinned, a joke already on his lips, but he swallowed it back. In the past, his partners had often been confused when they saw his tattoos because they felt they didn't fit his personality, and that always made him smile. He liked being a surprise and not fitting into any particular category.

 

"Why aren't you sleeping?" Claire asked suddenly, so quietly that it took Neil a moment to understand her words. She sounded sleepy, and he couldn't remember when he'd ever heard anything so sweet.

 

"Maybe I just don't want to yet," he murmured into her hair with a teasing tone as his fingers traced her spine. She didn't say anything, but he felt the slight movement in her body, as if she didn't quite believe him. He sighed. "I'm thinking about how we should do this," he admitted, feeling her muscles tense slightly beneath his fingertips. But she didn't say anything at first, before shifting slightly away to look at him. Neil grumbled in dissatisfaction.

 

"I think we already did it. And it was pretty good." The cheeky grin that spread across her face was immediately mirrored on his. He loved that side of her, he always had. As if by reflex, his gaze landed on her lips again, the urge to kiss her almost unbearable. But something held him back. It was strange; he'd thought about kissing her so many times before. When he'd stood beside her and she'd laughed at his jokes, when he'd lost himself in her eyes, over and over again. And now he'd spent the whole evening doing just that, and it still felt like it wasn't enough, like it would never be enough. He knew there would be no going back once they'd crossed those boundaries, but he hadn't expected how quickly he could become addicted to her. "Do you regret it?" she asked suddenly, her voice not worried, but almost cold, as if she were trying to protect herself from the answer. Neil immediately furrowed his eyebrows and pulled her a little closer again, never taking his eyes off her.

 

"Of course not." His voice was confident and strong, because he meant it and wanted her to feel it too. He raised his hand and placed it gently on her face, stroking her cheek with his thumbs and smiled slightly as she closed her eyes at his touch. "What about you?" As if by reflex, her eyes shot open again and met his gaze. For a few seconds, that felt painfully long, she said nothing, her eyes flickering all over his face, and his chest tightened. He knew that look from her inside out - her mind was already working far too fast for her mouth to keep up.

 

"No," she said finally, and the way she said it, he believed her. He exhaled with relief, but his muscles remained tense, because the small crease between her brows was still present. "I'm just thinking, too." Neil nodded and let the silence fall over them again. He hadn't expected to have this conversation tonight, but he knew what Claire was like, knew that she overthought everything and, in most cases, made it worse than it was. He'd thought about it a lot, even before that evening, even before the moment in the stairwell. He'd been looking for that safe haven that would allow them to deal with what was between them, without the fear that others might destroy it. A relationship between them was barely conceivable even under normal circumstances. Claire had been through a lot in the last year, and Neil knew she was far from overcoming it all. And even if he had decided to give her strength, to hold her when she needed it, and to support her in whatever she would let him do, he wasn't naive. He knew it would be stressful for her if she got involved with him. She felt safe in the hospital, and he didn't want to be the reason she couldn't anymore. He could still remember what it had been like when he'd made his relationship with Audrey public, and even though HR hadn't liked it, they'd made it clear that it wouldn't be a problem because they hadn't been in the situation he was now in with Claire. Claire was right - it certainly wasn't the first time something had developed between a resident and an attending that shouldn't have happened, but he'd sworn to himself that it would never happen to him. He'd only witnessed it once before, and that wasn't even at San Bonaventure. It was during his training at another hospital, when one of his colleagues had fallen in love with his boss. Neil didn't remember much, but he knew it hadn't ended well. They'd kept it a secret for quite a while until one of the other attendings found out and advised them that one of them should leave the hospital. They hadn't been able to handle the pressure; at one point, the resident had gone to HR alone and accused the attending of sexual harassment, afraid of losing his own job. It had been a bloodbath. Neil knew that things probably wouldn't turn out like this between him and Claire; that this was something special and real, but there were many more hurdles now that he was still her boss. Their hospital was close, their colleagues were all, for the most part, their friends, and he couldn't say whether that would be an advantage or a disadvantage. Would they expect one of them to switch to another hospital? Or would they pull Claire from his rotation? Admittedly, the latter would be a small price to pay, at least temporarily. He frowned.

 

"I think it's best if we go straight to HR. Put our cards on the table and then we'll see," Neil finally said, convinced of his decision. Even if it would be difficult, it would still be better than the alternative. If they didn't report it and then got caught, which wasn't particularly unlikely, the consequences for them would be much worse. Claire could lose her job or at least be transferred. He himself would most likely get off with a warning, but he would also be removed from the residency program. Aside from the fact that he didn't want to subject himself to that humiliation, he would miss being able to train the residents any longer. Neil watched Claire's expression, which had now darkened, her brow furrowed, her jaw tensed.

 

"Do you really think so? Can't we just ... keep it to ourselves?" Neil's pulse skipped for a brief moment before his head began to rattle. The tone of her voice hadn't given anything away, but her expression was serious. Neil frowned and leaned back slightly. He didn't speak at first, considering what to say next.

 

"You ... want this, don't you? This thing with us. You're into this with me. This isn't just something casual for you, is it?" An emotion flitted across her face, brief and barely identifiable, but Neil recognized it immediately - pain. She dismissed it with a casual shrug.

 

"I actually thought I'd call you whenever I needed to. What do you call it again? Oh yeah, booty call," she said, far too casually, and Neil grimaced, which made Claire laugh. Before Neil could join in, her features became a little more serious and warm again. "No, it's not. I told you, I know what that is." Neil exhaled with relief, involuntarily pulling her a little closer to him. "I just don't want to ... drag everyone else into this right away. I know officially it would be the right thing to do, but I ... don't know." She sighed and placed her hand on his cheek, the warmth she radiated making Neil close his eyes. "Going to HR will make everything even more complicated. And I don't want to do that until we figure out how to handle it ourselves." Neil opened his eyes and nodded slightly, even though everything inside him resisted it. If they hid it, would it really be more than just sex between staff? With the attending taking on the young, naive resident and the resident hoping that sleeping with her boss would make her life easier? If they'd just owned up to it, there would have been rules, but it would have given more value to what they had. He had a bad feeling about this, not because of Claire, but because of what it might entail. However, he didn't want to corner her and overwhelm her right away. At least not right now, when everything was still so new.

 

"Okay," he whispered after a brief pause, and she gave him a sweet smile. Before he could stop himself, he chuckled back. "I don't mind the occasional booty call, though," he added with a wink, and Claire rolled her eyes before laughing. Before he could say anything stupid again, her lips were suddenly on his again, taking his breath away. It was a gentle, slow kiss that Neil felt in every vein of his body. A fire that coursed through him, from head to toe and bubbling in his stomach. It felt like gravity pulling him towards her without giving him any control over himself. But before he could lose himself in her again, she pulled away, a slight smirk on her lips. Neil wanted to protest, wanted to feel her against him again, wanted to taste her again and feel every part of her body, but the look on her face silenced him. Her eyes sparkled in the moonbeams reflecting through the window, and Neil caught his breath. He knew he had felt something for her that went far beyond professionalism and friendship. But it was only then that he realized how deep these feelings were, and while every part of his body was bubbling with euphoria, there was a small, quiet part that made his stomach clench. As she looked at him like that, content, warm, and peaceful, he felt a surge of fear. Only for a split second, but it had been enough. He'd been heartbroken many times in his life, including recently. He'd gotten over it every time, and yet a sickening feeling still built up in his stomach. His thoughts were getting louder - What it would mean if she wasn't ready to publicly admit to them, what it would mean that he wanted nothing less. Even though he wanted nothing more than for this to work out with her, he couldn't be sure. And he was scared. Scared that he'd be hurt again, yes, but even more scared of hurting her. Even if he hadn't been to blame for his breakups, he always felt as if a part of him had been partly responsible. Did he have too high standards that no one could've ever met? Was he expecting something from her that she couldn't possibly fulfill? What if he was trying to force her into this perfect illusion he had created for himself and his life? Could he ever be enough, for her and for himself? Would he keep finding reasons for them not work?

 

"We don't need to name it," Claire added after a moment, drawing him out of his thoughts. "There's no reason to rush this." Neil snorted, and Claire raised a skeptical eyebrow.

 

"You're the one who seduced me, remember?" he shrugged, and she rolled her eyes playfully.

 

"Yeah, right. Just pretend this wasn't a long-term plan of yours that finally came to fruition." Neil stifled a laugh and gritted his teeth, one eyebrow raised as he launched himself onto his elbow.

 

"That really makes me look terrible, the way you say it," he muttered, but couldn't suppress the slight grin when she looked up at him, pretending to think about it seriously. "You watch your mouth," he warned, eliciting a small giggle from her. She shrugged.

 

"I can go if you want," she challenged, and he narrowed his eyes at her for a moment before flopping onto his back and sighing. Much to his surprise, Claire immediately seized the opportunity and slid closer to him, resting her head on his chest, her arm loosely around his waist. He noticed that she was still cautious about touching him, at least on his injured side, and even if he'd loved to feel her all over him at once, he was grateful for it.

 

"Why do you think it's better to hide this? You know how it was when people only suspected there was more. The gossip, the rumors, the looks ... if we just openly admit what this is between us, then at least we'll take the wind out of their sails right away," he asked cautiously. She didn't answer right away, but the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable.

 

"I don't want to hide it. I just want to protect it. For now. It's complicated enough, just for the two of us. Making this public will only put pressure on us. I don't want to risk it falling apart before it's even begun." Her voice was warm, some kind of uncertainty in her words that silenced Neil. He disagreed, suspected that her approach would only make things worse, but the way she pressed herself against him, as if she trusted him completely and they were a team, he decided to leave it at that for now. For a moment, he closed his eyes, feeling his body ready to shut down, his eyelids heavy. She let out a soft, gentle breath that spread all over him, her muscles softening beneath his touch, and it was the first time that evening that she seemed to truly relax. Her body still, her breathing deep and even. And it occurred to him that maybe she was feeling the same thing he was feeling at that moment - how strange it was, how, despite all the overthinking, despite the potential consequences that lay ahead, and despite the many reasons why this shouldn't be between them, it still felt right. His hands on her warm skin and in her soft hair and suddenly it made sense, she made sense, this between them made sense. And maybe that was all they needed at that moment. And then he let go, gave his body what it craved and closed his eyes because he was no longer afraid that she wouldn't be there when he opened them again. Because he knew they were where they were supposed to be. And then he drifted off, into a half-sleep that was something between a dream and a memory.

 

Neil leans back against the booth, a half-finished whiskey glass turning lazy circles between his fingers. Claire laughs at something he’s said, real laughter, the kind she doesn’t give away easily, and it does something to him. Warms his chest. Loosens something he’s been holding too tight. He looks at her and a feeling comes over him that he can't quite identify yet, so he just smiles. She’s tipsy. He can tell by the way she’s sitting a little too close, her shoulder brushing his every time she shifts. Not pulling away. Not careful. Not the Claire he sees at the hospital.

"You're trouble," he says, voice low enough that it might get lost in the sounds of the bar, maybe he even hopes it does. But she hears him - her smile tilts, knowing. Challenging.

"Me?" she echoes, playing innocent badly. She lifts her drink, the glass catching the light. "You're the one who dragged me here."

"You needed it," Neil murmurs, and it’s true. She’s been wound tight for weeks, carrying too much. He saw it, even when she tried to hide it. He always sees it. Claire leans in, propping her chin in her hand, studying him.

"You needed it too." He should say something, laugh it off. Make it light again. Instead, he looks at her, really looks, and everything slows down. The noise, the people, the drinks sweating on the table. It all fades. It's just her, close enough to touch. It’s true. He needed this, just as much as she did and he doesn’t know why. She's good for him, in a way he can't understand. She'd been through so much lately, and even then, she gave him her smile every day, warm and honest. At first, he spent time with her to help her through this time, but now it's more than that, it's been like that for a while. It's no longer about how she's doing or cheering her up. It's about her. About being with her. Maybe Audrey's right after all - maybe he does have a problem. A dangerous thought flickers across his mind. If he leaned in just a little … He drags his gaze away, finishing his drink instead, feeling the burn all the way down. Claire laughs again, softer this time. Like she knows exactly what he's thinking. Like she’s thinking it too. And maybe she is.

"To bad decisions," he says. Claire lifts her drink, her smile softening. She doesn't ask what he is referring to, as if she already knows. 

"They are the most fun anyway." Their glasses clink, the sound loud in whatever this is between them. She takes a sip, watching him over the rim. Her eyes are wide beneath her long lashes, and her gaze reveals everything. She often looks at him in a way that she knows drives him crazy. Biting her lip slightly, a twinkle hidden in the corner of her eye ... at first, she didn't seem to notice, but now he's sure she's playing this game on purpose. His mouth quirks, a little out of control now, the whiskey loosening the last of his better judgment.

"You’re not nearly as good as you pretend to be," he murmurs, almost like it's a secret just between them. Claire’s eyebrows lift, but her smile doesn’t fade. Again, she knows what he is talking about.

“Neither are you.”

It hangs between them, a shimmer of something not quite safe, not quite spoken. Neil knows he should back off. Should shift the mood, laugh it off, pull them back onto safe ground. He doesn't. Instead, he taps the side of her glass with his finger, steadying it where she's set it down. His hand lingers a second longer than it should, brushing hers. Claire freezes for a fraction of a second. Then she’s laughing again, covering whatever that moment was with a toss of her hair and an exaggerated groan.

“You’re drunk,” she accuses, pointing at him.

“Never been more clear-headed in my life," he says, deadpan. He watches her as she tips her head back, still laughing, her throat exposed, her guard down. She’s beautiful. God, she's always been beautiful, but something about tonight makes it unbearable. Neil leans back, letting his head hit the booth, eyes closed for a moment against the weight of it all. The spinning bar, the warmth of her, the ache to close the small distance between them. When he opens his eyes, Claire is watching him, expression softer than he’s ever seen it. He doesn't move, neither does she. The space between them crackles, fragile and reckless. Teetering. Maybe if he says something right now, something real, she’ll lean in. Maybe they’ll fall. Maybe that ‚something‘ between them could become something more. Maybe. But Claire breaks the moment first, dropping her gaze to the drink in her hands, a shy smile flickering across her mouth like she’s not sure if any of this was too much or not enough at all.

Neil smiles too, slow and a little stupid, and lets her.

“You’re a lightweight,” Claire says suddenly, tilting her head at him, mischief lighting up her face. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.” He chuckles, low and amused. They both know he's not, even though he's long since overstepped his bounds. When he went out for a drink after work, he usually limited himself to two shots or a couple of beers. But today is different, and he doesn't know why. He doesn't know if he's aware of how much he's playing with fire, or if that's exactly what makes this evening so exciting.

"Says the woman who spends the whole evening drinking these colorful drinks and yet can barely pronounce any syllables after the second glass." Claire gasps, scandalized.

"Excuse me. I've already had six of those, and you? Only four. Lightweight." Neil grins, his heart warming. He notices the short pauses after each sentence, as if she herself is no longer quite sure what she wants to say. Yes, she is obviously drunk.

"Yours is practically water, I'm not even sure there's any alcohol in it," he counters with a cheeky grin, leaning back a bit and admiring her slightly amused expression.

"Still, I drink more than you," she tries to save herself, but she can't hide the sparkle in her eyes.

"Not the same thing," he counters, grinning. He's leaning in again without thinking, his voice dropping slightly. “You’re lucky you’re so beautiful. They let you get away with more,” he says before he can stop himself. He sees the pink flush creeping into her cheeks and suddenly doesn't regret what he said for a second. Instead, he punctuates his comment with a slight wink. Claire freezes, just for a second, before laughing it off with a wave of her hand.

“Flattery. You are so drunk.” Neil smirks, slow and deliberate.

"Not drunk enough to lie." She gives him a look, a mixture of challenge and something softer underneath.

“Careful, Dr. Melendez. Flirting with your residents is definitely against hospital policy.” He leans even closer, just enough that she has to tilt her head up to meet his eyes. The air between them hums, charged and daring. His heart is beating fast but he ignores it.

"Good thing we're off the clock," he says, voice a touch too rough. Claire laughs again, a little breathless this time, and nudges his shoulder with hers. He feels it like a spark, jolting straight through him.

“You’re so full of yourself,” she says, shaking her head. But she’s smiling, wide and unguarded, her cheeks pink from the alcohol and maybe something else.

“Keep pretending you don’t like it," he teases, grinning like he knows it’s true. Because he does. Claire narrows her eyes, trying, failing, to look stern.

"I like boundaries." He raises his glass lazily in a mock salute.

“To boundaries.” Claire clinks her glass against his, rolling her eyes but laughing anyway. The kind of laugh that tilts her whole body toward him. Her foot brushes his under the table again, not an accident this time. Neil doesn't pull away. For a long, reckless beat, they just look at each other, close enough to forget that tomorrow’s going to come, close enough that it wouldn’t take much at all to erase the space between them.

“You’re going to regret all this flirting when you’re sober,” Claire says lightly, but there’s a catch in her voice she can’t quite hide. Neil smiles, slow, a little dangerous.

“Only if you don’t flirt back.” Claire’s breath catches, just a flicker, before she shakes her head and laughs, hiding it behind her drink. Tomorrow, they'll blame the whiskey, but tonight, he’s drunk enough to want her to remember.

 

The night air hits them like a slap, cool and bracing after the sticky warmth of the bar. Claire stumbles a little as they step onto the sidewalk, laughing as she catches herself on his arm. Neil steadies her instinctively, his hand around her elbow. He doesn't let go right away. Doesn't want to.

“Whoa," Claire says, grinning up at him. “You’re a hazard.”

“Me?” Neil raises his eyebrows. “You almost took us both out."

“You’re supposed to be the responsible one," she says, jabbing a finger into his chest, and immediately wincing like she just poked a wall. Neil laughs, catching her wrist lightly before she can retreat. His thumb brushes the inside of her wrist without thinking, a simple, lazy circle against her skin. Claire goes still. The world tilts a little. Maybe it’s the whiskey. Maybe it’s just her. For a second, neither of them moves, and Neil feels every inch of space between them, vibrating like it's trying to tell him something.

"You’re freezing," he says, because it's easier than saying anything else. His voice is too low, too careful. Claire shrugs, but she doesn't pull away.

“I’m fine.” Neil’s fingers linger on her wrist a second longer, then he lets her go, shoving his hands deep into his pockets before he does something stupid. Like pull her closer. Like kiss her under the streetlights like some drunk cliché. Claire rocks back on her heels, grinning again, lighter now, like she's shaking it off. “So what’s the plan, boss?" she teases. "Gonna carry me home?" Neil huffs a laugh.

"You’d have to buy me at least one more drink before I do that." Claire lifts an eyebrow.

“Is that how you negotiate with all the woman in your life?”

“Only the special ones," he says, soft, like he doesn't realize he's said it out loud until it's hanging between them. Claire's smile falters, just a little. Not in a bad way. In a way that says she heard him. She ducks her head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. When she looks back up, her smile is smaller, more careful, but it’s still there.

"Good thing I’m not that easy," she says lightly, but her voice is warm. Neil chuckles, stepping back just enough to let the night settle between them again.

"I wouldn’t want you to be." They stand there for a beat longer than necessary, just breathing the same air, drunk and tipsy and spinning a little in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol. Finally, Claire tugs her jacket tighter around herself.

“C’mon, Dr. Melendez. I’m starving.” Neil falls into step beside her, hands still shoved deep in his pockets to keep them to himself. And he smiles.
Because somehow, even drunk and stumbling through half-broken moments, this, whatever this is, feels dangerously close to perfect.

 

"How long have you been thinking like this about me?" he heard suddenly, far away, almost like a voice in his subconscious. His eyes opened and blinked a few times, trying to realize if he'd just imagined the words or if she'd really asked him. When he'd gotten used to being awake, at least a little, he noticed that Claire had shifted slightly, her gaze on him, her eyes wide and bright, and it made him smile. For a brief moment, the thought occurred to him that he could get used to the sight. She was still so close, so close it felt impossible she'd ever been anything else. Her bare thigh brushed against his as she shifted under the soft sheets, and even that slight contact felt seismic, skin warm from sleep and whatever they'd become in the dark. Her words still echoed in his chest, quiet confessions, emotions laid bare, all of it spoken without hesitation this time. And now she looked at him. Really looked at him.

 

"What?" he murmured, his voice still a little weak. Her eyebrow raised, and he wondered how she still wasn't tired. A slight chuckle played on his lips as he remembered the question. "Are we talking head over heels or naked in my bed?" Claire chuckled back, pretending to consider it as her fingertips traced circles over his bare chest.

 

"Why not both?" Neil sighed softly and propped himself up a little to focus on the conversation. His mind was a jumble as he tried to remember and form words that could even begin to do it justice. Thinking about it, he knew he'd been asking himself that question for a long time. The real question, how long had he stopped kidding himself? He shrugged.

 

"What can I say? I have fallen for you," he said with a broad grin, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "Do you want the real answer or the moral one?" Claire grinned but said nothing as she raised her hand and ran it through his hair. Which wasn't particularly helpful, as it distracted him even more from thinking. "That's hard to say. You got into my head. Not just sexual." Her lips curved into a smile before she nodded.

 

"I tend to do so." Neil leaned forward and pressed a fleeting kiss to her cheek before she could even realize it.

 

"You are very cocky yourself, huh?" He felt her soft laughter echo across the bed, right into his body.

 

"When it comes to sex, yes. Because I know how good I am." Neil chuckled as her words brought back images of last night. Her perfect body, moving sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly against his, the way she had looked at him when he had touched her, the way her eyes had rolled into the back of her head and her mouth had opened slightly as the waves of pleasure overtook her ... just the memory of it heated his veins and he swallowed hard.

 

"I can't argue with that," he finally said, eliciting a satisfied smile from her. For a few moments, silence fell over them, warm and full of anticipation, and he simply breathed it in, realizing that it was real and she really was with him. He shook his head, remembering how absurd it was. "I don't know, there's always been something special about you." Neil began again, catching her eye. "It's not like I've always wondered when something would happen between us. Although you might like to believe that." Claire chuckled, a slight shift of her head that almost became a nod. "You have this way about you that's impressive, right from the start, and there's always been something there. I can't call it feelings, of course, that would be absurd, but it's not like I didn't notice you very early on."

 

"I knew it." The smug grin crept back onto her face, and Neil bit his tongue, biting back a sharp comment. When her features softened, he smiled too, his finger gently stroking her cheek, as if trying to make her smile stick there forever. He remembered their first year together, and even then, of course, he didn't have anywhere near the eyes for her that he did now, but he remembered seeing a lot of himself in her. And that had impressed him, because it had been so contrary to his first impression of her. When he'd first met her with all the other residents, he'd expected her not to even make it past her first year, that she had high ambitions but didn't have the character to stick with a job like this. He'd seen people like her before - the high achievers in medical school who'd expected the world to kiss their feet. How wrong he'd been, and how quickly she'd proven that wrong.

 

"It wasn't until much later, when we spent more time together and I really got to know you. I saw how strong you really are." She was still smiling, but Neil noticed the slight shadow that came over her face, so he simply shook his head. "I didn't want to admit it, but I think that night when you came to see me in the bar and remembered me who I really am and that things could work between us without it being weird ..." He hesitated for a moment, thinking back to the evening in the bar. About how bad he'd felt about leaving her sitting there, knowing he'd hurt her, knowing he'd have loved nothing more than to stay there. "... I realized you mean more to me than I'd like." Claire furrowed her eyebrows and gave him a warm smile.

 

"You ran as fast as you could,“ she mumbled. Apparently she noticed Neil's face twist, because a moment later she laughed. "And then you came back." Neil laughed softly and shook his head.

 

"Yes, even though I knew exactly what I was doing. I told myself you were right - that we could be friends, nothing more. I'm not stupid, I knew exactly what this was and what I was getting myself into, but I just didn't want to believe it. But then, one day, Dash showed up again." Claire grimaced, as if his words had just reminded her. "And I think just the possibility that there could be someone out there for you ... it kept getting harder for me to pretend it didn't bother me."

 

"Yeah, you really confused me. You always said those things, but to be honest, I never knew if you were referring to Dash or ... you," she murmured a little shyly, which made Neil smile from one ear to the other.

 

"I didn't really know either, I think. It was complicated." It had been complicated because Neil had known back then that the best thing would have been for her to fall in love with Dash and be happy with him. He'd been the better choice for her, uncomplicated, unruly. And in a way, that had made him mad, because Dash had just reappeared in her life, had the opportunity to take her to dinner or spend time with her without anyone questioning it. He knew how selfish his feelings for her had been, and yet it had still tormented him every time he'd had to hold back. When she'd sat next to him, unsure whether to say yes to a date with Dash, he already knew the answer. Everything in him wanted to tell her that he'd fallen for her, bit by bit, every time she laughed or looked at him like he was more than he deserved to be. He'd wanted to ask her if she didn't feel the exact same way, if that gravity that bound them didn't tear her apart every day, just as it did him. But the only thing he had said in the end was what he knew and could say with certainty. That she deserved to be happy. And she did, even if it meant seeing her with someone else. Even if her smile hadn't been for him anymore, he would still have enjoyed it just as much, every time it had reflected on her face. Like it did in that moment, when she looked up at him through her big green eyes, as if nothing else mattered. When she was lying in his arms, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Well, I think that's when I knew. I really knew." Claire smiled warmly, her hand gently stroking his face. Strange how life works sometimes. How the earthquake that could have ended his life had probably been the thing that had brought Claire to him. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly, and Neil tilted his head, knowing there was a cheeky remark on her lips.

 

"So you're telling me that, before then, you hadn't even considered what it would be like if the two of us ... " She made a suggestive gesture, and Neil sucked in a sharp breath and ran his hand through his hair. He couldn't hide the slight smirk, though.

 

"Not what I'm saying. But I'm neither denying nor confirming such an accusation." Claire laughed, almost too loudly for the quiet room, and Neil knew it had become his new favorite sound. "Let's just say that such thoughts have become considerably more frequent lately." Claire licked her lips, her cheeky grin, and Neil's eyes followed her movements as if in a trance. The twinkle in her eyes told him that she was probably having the same thoughts as him at that moment. "I'm afraid I'm rubbing off on you too much," he murmured with a grin, and Claire bit her lip.

 

"I like it when you rub … off on me." Neil took a sharp breath and slumped back onto his back with a grumble. This woman was dangerous, and she knew it. And that's what he loved about her.

 

"So, when did you start having indecent thoughts about me?" he asked, hoping to regain control of the conversation. But Claire's expression suggested otherwise. She shrugged.

 

"I don't know, I was depressed. I wasn't thinking about that." Neil snorted, grinning mischievously.

 

"Yeah, right. I bet you weren't." Neil wasn't sure what was going on in her head. Until recently, he hadn't even realized if she reciprocated his feelings. But she couldn't deny that she'd fallen for his charm, and she'd admitted it herself several times. Claire gave him a skeptical look, which she could only maintain for a moment before rolling her eyes.

 

"Fine. What can I say - I'm just a woman with needs," she mumbled behind an attempt to hide her grin. But when she looked into his face, the corners of her mouth turned up to the limit, she gave in.

 

"And what would those needs be?" he asked, his voice deeper and a little rougher. Claire bit her lip before leaning toward him, her lips only a few inches from his. The distance between her and him was almost painful, but the smug smirk still hadn't left his face.

 

"I think you might have an idea." Her voice was barely a whisper, and the tone in it sent a wave of heat through his entire body, uncontrollable and fast. And he didn’t reach for her out of instinct, he reached because he couldn’t not. Because suddenly, talking wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough unless he could kiss her like this - not for permission, not for forgiveness, but for everything they hadn’t said with their mouths but had screamed with their bodies. So their lips met again, slow but charged, like striking a match with wet hands - tension boiling beneath every soft collision. There was no room for second-guessing anymore. Only her breath catching, the way her hand found his jaw, and the way his entire body seemed to answer hers, every inch aching to be closer. He kissed her like it might fix the cracks in both of them, like he could pour all the unsaid things into her mouth - She was worth it, She always was worth it, She was something he didn’t know he was looking for, but found anyway. And she kissed him back like she already knew. She shifted, pressing her body fully into his, bare skin to bare skin, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, because nothing, not even their silence, had ever felt this intimate. He felt her smile against his mouth, just barely. Soft. Tired. Whole. He pulled her closer, until there was no space left, until their bodies burned with shared heat. He could feel the flutter of her heartbeat against his chest. He knew the rhythm of it now. This is real, he thought. Not the kiss, but her. Her hands in his hair. Her whispered breath against his jaw as he moved to kiss her neck. The way her body arched into his without hesitation. She wasn’t a dream anymore. She wasn’t a memory or a regret or a someday. She was here with him now, she was in it with him. Neil leaned back to look at her - hair a mess, lips swollen, eyes dark with something that looked a lot like peace. And maybe even something like love. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. Instead, he kissed her again. Even slower this time. More deliberately, mouth lingering on hers like a vow. She pulled back just far enough to whisper his name, and he swore he felt it echo through his whole body. When he pulled away again, reluctantly but out of breath, his thumb gently stroking her cheek, her eyes sparkled. But Neil could see the shadow in them; he'd seen it on her face many times before. Something hidden behind her laughter, behind her jokes, which sometimes held a bit too much truth. Some days it was louder than others, and in moments like these, it was almost nothing more than a slight twitch of her facial muscles.

 

"You look worried," he murmured, not accusingly, just observing. Claire smiled warmly before her finger brushed his eyebrow.

 

"And you look ..." She paused briefly, the shadow already gone from her face. Whether she was just hiding it or it had actually disappeared, Neil couldn't tell. "… outrageously handsome," she added with a slight bite of her lip. Neil couldn't suppress the smug grin that crept onto his face, and he shrugged.

 

"I thought you'd gotten used to it by now." Claire rolled her eyes and groaned in annoyance, but a warm sound that almost turned into a laugh still escaped her mouth.

 

"I don't think it's possible to get used to it." Before he could respond, she pressed her body against his again, as if she couldn't help it either, and he let her. Even as his body begged for rest, it was also crying out for her. And before they knew it, they'd lost themselves in each other again, heavy breathing that became one, touches that were sometimes more, sometimes less innocent, and a night that was just the beginning.

 

"Slow down, I'm pretty sure we've already used up the last condom," he murmured against her lips as her hands found their way back down his body. She pulled away and looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. But the way she looked at him already suggested what was really behind it.

 

"And I'm pretty sure we can find a way to keep ourselves busy that doesn't require a condom." His breath caught in his throat as she made it clear to him exactly what she meant.

 

****

 

Waking up had felt surreal, far too removed from reality, like a fever dream. Maybe it was because it hadn't been a proper waking up - somewhere between touching, kissing, and talking, they'd fallen into a half-sleep that had been anything but restful. But the sight he had when Neil opened his eyes was something he wouldn't trade for any sleep in the world. Claire, more peaceful than he'd ever seen her, her face softer and more relaxed than usual. Her hand gently on his chest, where his heart beat the loudest, and anything else that could take that peace away locked out of this room. But eventually, daylight had broken through the window, bringing reality back, making everything a little more real. They knew the real challenge still lay ahead, and he'd seen it in her face - not uncertainty exactly, but something that the covers of the night had hidden before, clarity. Neil had accompanied her to her car after breakfast so that she could drive back to her apartment, so she had time to prepare and sort herself out before her next shift. It would probably be a lot less inconspicuous if he hadn't driven her to work. They had agreed to keep this a secret at least until the end of her residency, and even if that had been a reasonably good compromise for Neil, he knew how difficult it would be. He was professional, sure. But he'd always thought he was acting professionally with Claire, and things hadn't turned out as planned. Maybe he should ask if she could work a different rotation in the near future, but that would certainly be too conspicuous. He should probably just grit his teeth and pull himself together. But that was easier said than done. He could already feel that as he made his way to Audrey's office, who had paged him as soon as he arrived at the hospital. Try as he might, he couldn't suppress the slight smirk that kept creeping onto his face, nor could he block out the memories that played before his eyes whenever he lost focus. Neil felt like a lovesick idiot, like a teenager at prom with his queen. This was definitely going to be difficult. So he pulled his suit a little tighter and cleared his throat before knocking on Audrey's door, who immediately invited him in.

"Morning," he murmured, as neutrally as possible. He knew if he slipped up, Audrey would be the first to read him like an open book. She raised her eyes from the documents in front of her only for a brief moment to nod at him. "You called me?" he continued, and she nodded again, gesturing to the chair across from her before standing up herself. Neil raised an eyebrow, noticing the tension spreading through the room. But he decided to ignore that for now and sat down without comment. Her arms crossed, her gaze met his, her head tilted slightly.

 

"What's gotten into you?" Neil's blood ran cold. She couldn't possibly know what had happened last night. Could she?

 

"Excuse me?" To his surprise, his voice sounded more amused than caught, and he was relieved to notice the small laugh lines around Audrey's eyes.

 

"What's with that stupid grin? Care to share the good mood?" she asked with a slight chuckle, and Neil's body automatically relaxed, even though he hadn't realized how much he was showing his inner lovesick fool. He shrugged as casually as possible.

 

"Oh, I've just been ... slowly tapering off my pain medication. I feel like a new person." Audrey's eyebrow raised slightly, as if she didn't fully believe him, but then she just nodded.

 

"That's good." Her gaze was directed toward the window behind her, her lips pressed tightly together. Neil sensed something was bothering her, but before he could address it, she reached into her drawer and slid some papers toward him. "I've made a few calls and found a place for Gaby at this care facility." Neil grabbed the documents and flipped through them. Pictures of a large building, a private garden, and forms requiring his signature. "It's a bit out of town. A little over an hour's drive from your place. It's not ideal, but I think she might like it there. If you give your approval, she can move in this weekend." Neil stared, perplexed, between the pictures and Audrey, words failing him. He'd been thinking about how to handle the situation with his sister himself for the past few days, but if he were honest, he just hadn't been able to concentrate on it.

 

"Audrey ... this ... is great. Thank you." She gave him a warm smile and nodded before sighing and sitting down opposite him.

 

"My friend's daughter works there. They're all very competent and incredibly friendly." Neil just stared at Audrey for a moment, touched, overwhelmed, grateful. He couldn't imagine how, in all the chaos, with colleagues who were no longer able to work and whom she had to replace somehow, she could even spare a thought for him and his problems.

 

"I owe you one, I really do. That means a lot to me." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. She clasped her hands on her stomach, her gaze fixed on him.

 

"It's all good. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." The words sucked all the air out of the room, and the tension returned to Neil. He knew that look, the way she looked at him, as if she already knew he wouldn't like what she had to say.

 

"What is it?" She didn't answer immediately, but he felt her slipping into her professional role, her gaze a little colder than before.

 

"As you know, Glassman is out for the time being. His recovery will be long, and while I can just about replace him in the OR, I need a second right hand. And someone who can run the clinic. That's why I wanted to talk to you." Neil swallowed hard; he hadn't expected this. He didn't know how to feel, whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. He'd already thought about how the hospital would continue if Glassman were absent for the long term; he'd been a good support to Audrey, even if they'd often disagreed. Neil, however, didn't know if he trusted himself to run the clinic, or if he wanted to. It would take up many hours he would usually spent in the operating room, and he certainly wouldn't be able to devote the time his residents needed. And then ... maybe that wasn't necessarily the worst thing, considering last night. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to step back a little, at least that way he had the opportunity to do so without it being too obvious. The chances of anyone finding out about Claire would be lower that way, although ... if he worked so closely with Audrey and she later found out that he hadn't been honest with her, she might suspect he'd stabbed her in the back. He gritted his teeth. Claire and him had agreed to wait until the end of her residency to make this public. But maybe he should at least bring it up with Audrey, on a friendly level.

 

"How did you envision it?" he finally asked, and Audrey just nodded before pulling another file out of her drawer. Neil frowned. "What is this?" Audrey hesitated for a moment before answering, but then jutted her chin forward, her face neutral.

 

"I found someone who's perfect for the position. Plus, he has experience in the neurological field and can also support us in Surgery." Neil frowned. So she hadn't considered him for the position …

 

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, his voice sharper than he'd planned. The familiar anger boiled up inside him, the same anger he'd felt before when she'd chosen the job over him. His jaw was tense as he reached for the file and opened it. He felt her eyes on him, but said nothing at first. At least, until he got to the resume. "Richard Lane?" His gaze flicked over to her, searching her eyes for any sign that this was just a sick joke. But she gave nothing away, the only expression on her face the twitch of a muscle under her eye. "You can't be serious, Audrey. Him? There have to be better options than him." Audrey shook her head and exhaled sharply before shrugging.

 

"Maybe. But I'm running out of time. I need someone my people trust. I've spoken to Glassman. It's not even certain he'll come back at all." She paused. "And I need to hire someone now, so they have time to get to know our people. The residency is coming to an end soon, and by then we'll need someone who - "

 

"Trust? Are you kidding?" he interrupted, his hands clenched into fists, his heart pounding rapidly against his ribcage. "What about me? I'm just as qualified as …" Audrey raised her hand.

 

"I don't need you in the office, I need you in the OR. I can't replace you too. Lane is the best candidate." Neil quickly got up from his chair and paced the office, his hand stroking his chin.

 

"You can't tell me he's the only one qualified …" Audrey didn't take her eyes off him, but she didn't lose her composure either.

 

"He's the best for the hospital." Neil gritted his teeth, everything inside him screaming, his muscles tensing. He met her gaze and crossed his arms, more for containment than comfort. "Neil … if you can't give me a reason not to hire him …" Neil shook his head and snorted.

 

"You know perfectly well! There's a reason you're telling me this. You know it's wrong!" he muttered through gritted teeth. Audrey sighed and stood up as well, her expression a little warmer than before.

 

"Actually, I hardly know anything. Because you don't talk to me. All I know is that you have history. That's all. If I were to exclude everyone who had any kind of history with either of us, soon no one would be working here." She shrugged, but continued to look at him expectantly. Neil caught her eye and hesitated. For a moment, he considered telling her about the last time he'd seen Lane. Anything that would dissuade her from hiring him would have been worth it. The air caught in his lungs, the weight in his chest heavy and oppressive. He exhaled loudly.

 

"I can't." An unreadable emotion flitted across her face before she adjusted herself, her gaze colder, more professional.

 

"He starts next week," she finally said, and Neil's hands clenched into fists before he shook his head.

 

"Audrey ... please." He hated how pleading his voice sounded, how desperate he was. He hated the person he became whenever Richard Lane appeared in his life. Audrey hesitated, her eyebrow twitching upward.

 

"That's all, Dr. Melendez. You may go now." Neil stared at her, a part of him wanting to scream at her, to ask her if she had completely lost her mind and how she could stab him in the back like that. But he controlled himself, his lips pressed tightly together, he nodded at her and turned to leave. Just remembering to grab the documents Audrey had given him, he stormed out of the office. His blood boiled in his veins, his head was racing, his pulse pounding in his ears. Of all the things she could have said to him, that was probably the worst. He had never forgotten Richard Lane, how could he? He had always been present in the back of his mind, like a whisper in the shadows. But he had learned to live with it, to accept that part of himself and still continue to grow. But that had only been possible because he had gotten as far away from him as possible. Neil knew the past had a habit of catching up with him when he least expected it, but he hadn't anticipated it coming back so loudly and uncontrollably. He felt the nurses' and doctors' eyes on him as he stormed through the hospital corridors and knew he had to get himself under control; he couldn't let others see him like this. He breathed in and out. In and out. He tried to ignore the images that appeared in his head. His chest tightened, almost as if it were exploding, sweat formed on his forehead. He raised his hand – it was shaking but felt numb, he couldn't breathe. What was happening to him? He felt dizzy, his breathing heavy and irregular, his vision blurred. He reached for the railing of the stairs, barely managing to grip it. His fingers curled tightly around the metal. For a split second, the thought crossed his mind that he might die. That was it. His body was giving up. But then his gaze refocused. At the bottom of the stairs stood Andrews, talking ... to Claire. His thoughts paused. He was having a panic attack. You're not dying. You're not dying. This is all in your head. He took a deep breath. And then another. And then another. Claire looked up at him, just for a little longer than a second, long enough for him to see the twinkle in her eyes and the small smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. His heart warmed. It brought back memories of last night, of feeling close to her. But then his chest tightened as he wondered if she would still look at him that way if she knew what had happened between him and Richard Lane.

 

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Notes:

So, that was something.

I had fun finally getting back into Neil's head; he's on cloud nine right now. Well, except his little secret seems to be catching up with him. I told you—there will be endless drama. I hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 8: The answers at the bottom of the glass

 

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Claire shut the door behind her and leaned against it, breath shallow. The silence in her apartment was jarring, too quiet after the night she just had. She hadn’t meant for it to happen. No. That wasn’t true. She had wanted it, had felt it building for weeks. The touches that lingered. The glances that said too much. The conversations that circled things unsaid. And then that night, something had tipped. Maybe Neil just finally realized that this was meant to happen, or maybe it was her own ache, that thing she kept locked up, that whispered; You’re allowed to want this. To want him. But now? Now, every part of her felt too much. Her skin still remembered him, his hands, his breath against her collarbone, the quiet God, Claire he’d whispered like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. She walked to the sink, poured a glass of water, hands shaking slightly. Was it the adrenaline? The relief? The fear? She wasn’t naive. She knew sex complicated things. Especially this - especially with someone like Neil. Her boss. Her friend. The man who had once looked at her like she was just another brilliant resident, and who now … She pressed her palms to the counter. She felt seen. That was the problem. He hadn’t just touched her body, he had seen the sadness she tried to hide and kissed it anyway. And it terrified her. Because if he saw her, really saw her, what if he stopped wanting what he found? And yet, for hours now, this stupid grin had been on her face, a grin that wouldn't go away, no matter how hard she tried, as if her heart understood something her brain still hadn't. That she was happy, perhaps. Because she didn't know how to go on, didn't know if it had been the right decision, but she knew she was happy. Not just positive or full of hope, but actually happy. A feeling of warmth and completeness that she had neither felt nor allowed for so long that it now seemed completely foreign to her. Like a foreign body. She felt almost guilty, simply out of habit. But she didn't want to let this moment be taken away from her, not by her doubt, not by her fear, not by the past. She simply wanted to feel what it was like to still have his scent clinging to her skin, to let the memory play vividly and loudly in her head and simply ... to breathe. A soft laugh escaped her. She covered her mouth like someone might hear. It hadn't been perfect. It had been intense, a little lost, full of too much feelings. And it had been theirs. Even the morning after had been strange in a way, almost unnatural. As soon as daylight had broken, it had been like a realization. That was it. It was like being in a warm bubble, with many things still unsaid but not needed to be spoken. Where feelings took over, not words, whose meaning wouldn't have been enough anyway. So they had eaten breakfast together, almost completely without speaking, just looking at each other. And even though Claire had expected that to be strange, it hadn't been, it was enough, just right. And when she had left, the goodbye part had been a bit overwhelming - how were they supposed to say goodbye after a night like that, a night that had changed everything that had happened between them? A night that had brought them so close that it was strange to leave again afterward. In the end it had been something strange between a hug and a kiss, as if they weren't sure how it would work yet, and they probably weren't. But they knew they wanted to give it a try. Warmth bloomed in her chest, slow and steady. Neil had kissed her like he wanted all of her. Not just the smart doctor, not just the brave survivor, but the tired, messy, real her. And that mattered more than she could say.

Claire went into her bedroom and collapsed onto her bed, her heart exploding in her chest. She'd always imagined what it would feel like to sleep with someone who was more than just an opportunity or a distraction. But she hadn't imagined it would be like this. Of course, the memories of the panic she'd felt when she'd let herself go also resurfaced. The fear that it would be too much - and in a way, it was. But once she'd regained control, it had been perfect. God, the way he fit inside her, like he belonged there. Like her body had been waiting, quietly, without her knowing. She pressed her thighs together, not to stifle the feeling but to hold it in place, to keep it. She touched her lower belly lightly, fingertips drifting in lazy circles, not out of need, not anymore, but because her body was still remembering. Now, she just smiled, dazed, exhausted, a little drunk on it all. Her body was sore in the best way, her legs heavy, her skin warm. She could still feel him inside her. Not literally, but in the way her hips ached, in the stretch between her legs, in the way her skin still burned where his palms had steadied her. The ghost of his touch was everywhere; her thighs, her waist. Her hips, where he’d gripped her when she was on top of him, riding him slow and deep like she had all the time in the world. And for a while, she had. Oh, and the way he looked at her while she moved - like he couldn’t believe it was her, like maybe he’d stop breathing if he blinked. His hands had been firm but reverent, thumbs brushing along her ribs as she rocked her body over his, controlling every inch, every angle, every pace. She had felt everything; the drag of him inside her, the way her body clenched greedily every time she took him deeper. The way his hands had tightened around her hips, the way his mouth had parted with a sharp breath when she rolled her hips just right; slow, deep, purposeful. She’d made him feel it. Every second. Every inch. She could still hear the sound he made when he came, low and desperate, like it had torn out of his chest without warning. She’d felt him pulse inside her, his body shuddering under hers, his head tipped back, helpless. And she’d loved that. Not in the romantic sense, not hearts and fireworks. But in the way it made her feel. Powerful. Intimate. Seen. She ran a hand across her stomach, then lower, tracing a lazy circle just above her navel. There was a slick, aching fullness lingering in her core, not uncomfortable, just ... satisfying. Like her body had finally been met where it needed it most. Her thighs ached in that good, used way. Her knees, her calves, even the muscles in her back, they all held pieces of the night. Her body had moved for him, around him, with him, and he had given her every inch of space to take what she wanted.

The vibration of her phone pulled her out of her thoughts. And from her fuzzy, dizzy mind, she had the faint hope that it was Neil calling. Simply because he felt the same way she did. But when she finally pulled the phone out of her pocket and looked at the screen, she realized, almost with disappointment, that it was her therapist confirming her next appointment. Claire sighed. It would probably be good to talk to Dr. Malkin about what had happened, to calm her emotional turmoil. But the selfish part of her didn't want that, not yet. She wanted to stay in their bubble for a while longer, where it was just him and her. Nothing, except this little secret that made her heart race. She knew that talking about it would make it more real, and if it were more real, then it would shatter. Then she would realize again how naive she was, letting this feeling of warmth fill her body as if it wouldn't have consequences. Claire sat up, the smile still on her face. How could she possibly stand next to him in the OR, looking at him without getting lost in his eyes? How could she not let it show that she was ... happy? She slowly got up from her bed and shook herself, mentally preparing to simply let Neil go back to being an attending and remain a resident herself. This time the thought didn't hurt, this time it filled her with warmth. It certainly wouldn't be too difficult for her, it probably would be, to pretend nothing had happened. She had a lot to do, so how hard could've been to forget what his touch had felt like? She strode quickly into the bathroom, and only when she saw her reflection in the mirror did she realize how hard she had already fallen. There was no denying it. She had known there was no turning back, but seeing herself now underscored that. She could tell she'd barely slept a wink; her lips were still slightly swollen, her mascara was smudged, her hair was a mess with no hope of recovery. She was a mess. In the best possible way. She'd gone out like this before, after nights spent with men, but the sparkle in her eyes and her warm smile enhanced the image so much that she was no longer ashamed of it; instead, it made her chuckle. It wasn’t just sex. She hated that she even had to think that like she was defending it. It was quiet. And intense. He looked at her like he didn’t want to miss a single moment. Like he saw her, and still stayed. She kept thinking about the way he held her afterward. Not possessive. Not out of obligation. Just this light, careful thing. Like he was asking, Are you okay? Are you really okay? And the weirdest part was, she was. She still was. She thought it would mess her up. That she’d panic or regret it or feel like she‘d lost control. But she didn’t. She felt warm, like someone finally turned the lights back on inside of her. And now, brushing her teeth, thinking back to all the things he’d said and done, she was also scared because there was hope sitting in her chest and she didn’t know what to do with that. She had lived without hope before, it was easier than expecting and then getting hurt. But Neil gave her something real. And she didn't want to run from that. Not yet.

 

Claire was at the hospital later than usual, wanting to avoid showing up at the same time as Neil. She had pushed him into what she wanted, wanted to keep this a secret. She couldn't afford to let them get caught because she couldn't control her eyes or her hands. Professional. Resident and Attending. Work. It was simple, simple rules. She let a heavy breath escape her throat. The hospital doors slid open with a soft hiss, and Claire stepped inside, the blast of cool air hitting her skin like a reset button. It was actually strange how it felt to be back. To smell the hospital, to look into the faces of the people she was trying to hide from. The warmth that had been spreading inside her all morning disappeared immediately and she sighed. This was good. This had to be it.

"Dr. Browne." She nearly flinched. The voice snapped her out of her head like a hand on the shoulder. Turning, she found Dr. Andrews striding toward her, expression unreadable. The usual.

 

"Good morning," she said quickly, smoothing her face. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't unfriendly either, as he stopped in front of her, phone in one hand, some papers in the other. Claire raised an eyebrow, her eyes scanning his face for any information that would tell her what he expected, but she found nothing. Her heart beat a little faster.

 

"We need a favor," Andrews began. "Lim's team is short two residents this week. She needs someone with enough experience to step in and manage the front end of a multi-trauma intake." It took Claire a moment to process what that meant. She felt a familiar warmth on her skin and knew he was there before she saw him. Her gaze flickered to him before she could stop it. He was standing at the top of the stairs, watching her. A smile flitted across her face, almost not there, but she felt it burning through her entire body. When her gaze landed back on Andrews, he raised his eyebrow.

 

“Um … what?” she asked, not remembering his last words.

 

"This isn't a small ask. The case involves a rollover crash, two victims in critical. It's going to be a lot of triage, family communication, prep. You'd be point. Lim will be in surgery. I told her you could handle it." Claire blinked, now completely back in focus.

 

“You told her?” He nodded.

 

"Yes. I told her you were ready." That landed heavier than she expected. “I’ve been watching you, Claire,” he added, voice lower now, less performative. "You've stepped up. And not just technically, you manage pressure well. Just like you acted during the earthquake ... it's impressive. Lim needs someone today who can lead with both hands and keep the rest of the team grounded. That's you." Claire's mouth went dry. She instinctively put her body on autopilot even as her brain scrambled to recalibrate. Not only did Andrews trust her, but so did Lim. She was ready, more than just that, she was wanted. She was needed. As a … leader.

 

“I can handle it,” she said. Andrews smiled slightly and nodded before turning to leave.

 

"I know you can. That's why we are giving you this. Don't waste the moment." It wasn't praise, not exactly. But it was trustworthy. And that from Andrews, it meant something. He started to walk away but stopped, glancing back at her with a narrowed gaze. “You seem rested,” he said, a note of curiosity threading through the formality. Claire met his eyes with practiced calm.

 

“Sleep helps,” she said lightly, keeping the truth to herself. He didn't push it. Just gave a nod and disappeared down the hall. She stood there for a beat, letting her breath settle. She’d wanted to float through the morning, let her body remember the happiness she’d felt. But now, that bubble had popped. Her gaze flickered to the other end of the stairs, but Neil was already gone. This time she wasn’t disappointed, but relieved. She had to come back. She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and headed where she was needed.

 

****

 

The case hit hard and fast. The ER was chaos in motion, alarms, shouting, blood, hands moving faster than thought. Claire didn’t have time to hesitate. Andrews had told her she could handle it, and now there was no room for anything else. She stepped into the center of it like she'd been doing it her whole life. Orders rolled off her tongue, one patient coding, the other seizing. She coordinated intubation, cross-matched blood, called for scans and made judgment calls on the fly. Lim didn’t arrive until the worst of it had already passed, and by then, Claire had stabilized both patients. Lim gave a nod, brief, but unmistakable. Claires heart was pounding loud in her ears, but it wasn’t just today’s chaos pressing on Claire’s nerves. It was the tremor still living under her skin. The earthquake had passed days ago, but her body hadn’t fully left it. She was shaking again. Not from panic, from remembering how much a body could hold. Pain. Pleasure. Purpose, all of it, layered and raw. She had done this. Carried it all. The earthquake. The aftershocks inside her. The sweetness of being touched by someone who truly saw her. The pressure of being trusted with life and death again so soon after watching so much crumble. She had held the line. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she was just surviving. She felt like she was becoming. No one said it aloud, but she could feel it in the room. The shift, the respect. But inside her, something else pulsed under the adrenaline: the weight of being seen. Of being trusted. She was good, she knew she was good. But this morning, she'd still been that woman walking into the hospital with Neil's breath lingering at the base of her spine, her body hadn’t quite stopped trembling from the night before. And now here she was, blood on her gloves, someone’s life literally in her hands. It was jarring, electric. A different kind of intimacy. And somehow, holding all that in the same space - the memory of his hands on her, and the life-and-death pressure of her job, didn’t split her down the middle. It made her feel … whole. Like she could be both.

She felt strong, as if she were finally one of the women she had looked up to her entire life. As if she had become a different person overnight, someone she had always hoped to become. But it hadn't happened overnight, it hadn't been a miracle, she hadn't suddenly healed. She had worked for it, for years, fought, bled, cried, and screamed, and broken before she had grown. She had grown, almost imperceptibly, but constantly. It had seemed so terrifying to her to open up, to stand up for herself, to believe in herself. And now she had become that woman. And she was beginning to believe that maybe she could not only like herself, but even love herself. And maybe it wouldn't be so difficult to open up to others. Claire knew that the adrenaline was talking through her, that maybe tomorrow she would doubt herself again. But today she felt like she could take on anything and anyone. It was really strange. Just yesterday she felt powerless, powerless in the face of what was happening, powerless in the face of the lives being lost at her hands, and today she had saved two without listening to anyone else's orders, without questioning herself. Almost floating, she headed to the cafeteria for her lunch break. A small part of her, the one that had woken in her boss's bed this morning, hoped she would run into him, so she could tell him about it. She knew he would be proud, and that filled her with a warmth that didn't need to be justified. But another part of her, the one that knew she was trying to keep a secret, was glad he wasn't there. So she got herself something to eat and sat down at a free table, exhaling heavily, her head racing. She wished this feeling would last forever - it felt like she was glowing, the warmth spreading in her stomach made it almost impossible to get anything down, but in the best possible way. Claire didn't know this version of herself, and she wasn't sure what to do with it yet. And maybe she didn't need to do anything with it at all, maybe she just had to be.

"I've seen through you a long time ago," she heard Morgan say before she sat down across from her with a broad grin. Claire raised her eyebrow, but couldn't suppress the smug grin. "One day you're venting about how medicine breaks your soul, and today you're basically Saint Claire of the ICU? Should I bow or just get out of your legendary way?" Claire chuckled and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

 

"Oh, you've heard of it?" she asked innocently, and could see Morgan roll her eyes, though she couldn't suppress the small smile.

 

"The real question is, who hasn't heard about it? Don't worry, I'm not jealous, I just hate you a little," Morgan muttered before biting into her apple, pulling her phone out of her pocket, and starting to scroll. "Did you hear that Lim has already found a replacement for Glassman? Maybe I wasn't so wrong about him retiring." Claire grimaced and sighed. When she'd been with him, Glassman had dropped a few hints, but she'd still hoped he'd change his mind once he got out of the hospital. She was sure he'd change his mind. He certainly wouldn't be back in surgery anytime soon, but he could still run the clinic with a broken arm.

 

"I didn't know Lim was already this far along. Do you know who it is?" Morgan shrugged, without taking her eyes off the screen.

 

"I haven't figured it out yet. But I have an surgery with Dr. Evans soon, and if anyone knows anything, it's him. From what I've heard, the new guy is also a neuro-god.“ Claire nodded, a bad feeling creeping up on her. Certainly, it wouldn't be the worst thing if Glassman retired, since he'd been withdrawing more and more from the OR for some time, but Claire still wondered what effect that would have on Shaun when he eventually returned. Suddenly, Morgan slammed her phone down on the table far too loudly and crossed her arms. "Another fundraiser. Great. Because apparently, the only way to care is if it's loud and dramatic." Claire frowned and studied Morgan for a moment.

 

"Is that about the earthquake relief?" Claire had received an email from the hospital administration stating that a fundraiser was planned in three weeks to benefit the victims of the earthquake. Claire had been happy about this, as she'd felt bad, especially for Noreen and Martha, who, in addition to the cancer fundraiser, had also been planning the opening of their brewery that evening. The rug had been pulled out from under them ... literally.

 

"Ding ding ding. Earthquake victims, coming soon to a silent auction near you," Morgan said sarcastically before rolling her eyes. She seemed to notice Claire's confused expression, because she sighed. "Don't get me wrong - injuries suck. But since when do we scramble for money only when there's blood in the headlines?" Claire pushed her tray aside and watched Morgan, trying to understand where she was coming from, but she had her gaze fixed on the table, her eyebrows furrowed.

 

"Morgan, people died. Some of us barely made it out." Her voice wasn't accusing, but it wasn't warm either. Morgan's gaze lifted, and Claire's features automatically softened as she looked into her eyes.

 

"I know. I'm not heartless," she said frustrated, shaking her head. "But I've been busting my ass trying to fund this research on Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. Do you know how many young women live with chronic pain that no one takes seriously? That no one funds because it doesn't make a good news story?" She sighed, and Claire immediately felt bad that she hadn't seen that coming. Not that Morgan had ever brought it up before, but Claire had noticed something was bothering her long before the earthquake. She had obviously just been too self-absorbed to take it seriously. A sigh escaped her lips, out of guilt or sympathy for Morgan, or something in between.

 

"Is this about that patient we saw last month? The teenager with the bruises and joint pain?" Morgan laughed a humorless laugh.

 

"Yeah. Her. And four others like her I've seen in the last year. Misdiagnosed. Told it's stress. Or hormones. And all I hear is 'no budget,' 'no backing.' But we get injured in one natural disaster and suddenly everyone's a philanthropist?" Claire said nothing for a moment, letting the words hang between them.

 

"I get it. Really. But it's not a competition, Morgan. Pain is pain. Some of it just gets noticed louder." Morgan laughed bitterly and gave her a look that said she was on the completely wrong track.

 

"Exactly. And I'm just tired of the volume deciding who matters." She slumped back in her chair and folded her arms. Claire knew this feeling; especially during medical school, when she spent almost every evening reading medical articles, she had repeatedly noticed how quickly such illnesses went unnoticed. It had driven her crazy back then, because she'd felt powerless, had no voice to stand up for these people. Later, she'd told her boss at the time that it was unfair that medicine wasn't advancing where it was needed. But even then, her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. It wasn't that she wasn't interested in such cases or didn't feel bad about them anymore, but it was difficult to fight against such a system. Research into common diseases like cancer or Alzheimer's disease was being pushed forward, and as great as that was, it eventually silenced the voices of those fighting lesser-known illnesses. Claire exhaled loudly before smiling gently at Morgan.

 

"You said four others like her. But this isn't just about them, is it?" Morgan raised her eyes, defensive and reserved, but her eyes reflected all the emotions she was trying to hide.

 

"Why does everything have to be personal to count?" she asked quietly, somewhat sarcastically, and Claire nodded cautiously, continuing to study her.

 

"It doesn't have to be, but I have a feeling that's the case here." Morgan snorted, but her features softened slightly as their eyes met again. She said nothing for a few seconds, Claire simply read her face, then Morgan sighed.

 

"A girl I met in medical school, Melanie. She's thirty-two. Diagnosed with EDS last year after ... I don't know, a lifetime of 'mystery symptoms.' She thought she was just weak. Lazy. Her words, not mine." Claire nodded understandingly.

 

"I'm sorry." Morgan also nodded before sighing.

 

"It makes me so ... mad. She spent her twenties thinking it was all in her head. Relationships fell apart. She left medical school. And now? Now she finally has a name for it, and guess what? No treatment that works. No cure. No real funding. Just ... management and patience." Morgan snorted, her brow furrowed, her lips tightly pursed. "She's the most brilliant person I know, and her world got so small." Her voice trailed off into thin air before fading into nothingness. Claire's heart broke for Morgan and her friend; it was obvious how heavy a burden it seemed to be on both of them. Claire didn't pretend to understand what it was like to have to feel that way, but she could see in Morgan's face the impact it was having.

 

"And you want to do something about it," Claire stated after a brief pause, and their eyes met again. Morgan's eyes were a little glazed over, not from tears, but from everything she was carrying.

 

"Of course I do. I'm here, aren't I? I push, I study, I fight for trials that get shelved before they start. And meanwhile ... meanwhile people write checks because a ceiling cracked and we all got to feel scared for once." Claire exhaled heavily and pressed her lips together before giving her a slight smile.

 

"It's not an either/or, Morgan. You're allowed to feel overlooked. Just don't turn that into bitterness. You care too much for that." Morgan held Claire's gaze, and it said everything her mouth didn't. She probably knew Claire could understand her, knew she was right. But it was hard to move on when there was nowhere to go. Still, after a few moments of silence, she nodded.

 

"You're right." Claire smiled smugly, but said nothing more, instead giving Morgan the reassurance of the silence that fell over them both. The kind that made her feel she wasn't alone, but understood. Morgan poked at her food, her face a little more relaxed than before. Suddenly, her gaze landed on Claire again, expectant and also a little hesitant, and she raised an eyebrow. "Any plans for tonight?" Claire paused. She didn't have any plans, but part of her had hoped she could spend the night with Neil again. She hadn't let it show all day, but she felt his absence far too keenly. It was almost uncomfortable how often her thoughts drifted back to him.

 

"Not ... exactly," she finally answered, and immediately bit her tongue, imagining how conspicuous that would sound to Morgan. Morgan furrowed her eyebrows accordingly, but with a slight smirk on her face.

 

"Hmm," she grumbled, but still kept her eyes on Claire. She felt the color creep into her cheeks and cleared her throat.

 

"I mean, no. I was maybe going to stop by Glassman's before I leave, see if Shaun had been by, but other than that ..." Morgan's eyes sparkled before she rested her chin on her hand and grinned at Claire. That was definitely never a good sign.

 

"Perfect. Then you'll join me tonight. It's ladies' night at the Pour House." Claire grimaced for a moment. She hadn't gotten much sleep that night, the day at work had already been very exhausting, and on top of that, she had her next therapy session the next day. All reasons enough why she didn't feel like going out drinking. But when she looked into Morgan's hopeful face, she gritted her teeth and sighed.

 

"Okay, but if you drink yourself senseless, you're on your own," she murmured with a slight grin, and Morgan immediately returned it before shrugging.

 

"I don't plan on going home alone," she said with a mischievous grin and a wink. Claire almost choked on the coffee she was sipping at the time before raising a dismissive hand.

 

"Wow, hey. I said yes to drinks, not to being your wingwoman." Morgan's mouth twitched upward before she bit her lip slightly.

 

"Have you seen me? Do I look like I need a wingwoman?" She wrinkled her nose and slumped back in her chair, her hands relaxed on the table. "You're just moral support. Although I suppose it wouldn't hurt if we found someone for you as well ..." Claire gave her a long, unimpressed look before rolling her eyes playfully.

 

"Drinks, Morgan. Just drinks." Morgan raised her hands defensively and agreed. They arranged for Claire to wait for her when her shift ended, since Morgan wouldn't be able to get off until later due to surgery. Shortly after, she was paged in as well. Claire sighed as she watched her leave. Morgan probably wouldn't have been her first choice when it came to going out for drinks with someone; she knew she got a bit tiresome after a few too many. If Claire had ever suspected that Morgan never minced her words, she was all the more surprised to see how the alcohol was affecting her. It was almost funny, but Claire wasn't so sure she would enjoy it all that much right now. While she was happy that she had actually found something like a friend in Morgan, it only made things more complicated. Morgan had just stopped asking questions about her relationship with Neil; she didn't want to risk that starting up again anytime soon. It would certainly be harder for her not to let Morgan get close to her and not just blurt out everything that had changed in her life. Nevertheless, she was almost looking forward to the evening together as she went to the Residents Lounge to wait for Morgan. She was glad she could distract her a little, as she'd felt so useless when she'd opened her heart up to her.

Claire sighed as she set her bag down on one of the empty chairs. Somehow, the day felt like it would never end. She was about to sit down when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a figure on the balcony. Even without looking, she knew who it was and couldn't suppress the slight smile. Another glance at her watch told her she still had a little time before Morgan finished work as well. Without hesitation, she opened the balcony door and immediately felt the cool evening air touch her skin. Neil turned slightly at the sound, and when he saw her, a slight smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

 

"There you are. I haven't seen you all day." Claire's heart did that stupid thing she'd thought she was too old for - and leaped out of her chest. The pink color crept into her cheeks, and she pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. Instead, she let the door close with a soft clack and watched as Neil continued to turn toward her. "I thought you were avoiding me." Claire shoved her hands into her coat pockets and shook her head.

 

"Hmm, sounds more like something you would do," she murmured, allowing the twinkle in her eyes to make him realize she was making fun of him. Neil snorted and gave her a crooked grin that made her knees go weak.

 

"True." Claire hesitated for only a moment, glancing back into the lounge before approaching him, her back pressed against the railing. She looked up at him, and he met her gaze immediately, warm and full of emotions that reminded her of the previous night. It was strange; she'd expected the tension between them to ease once they'd finally indulged their desire, but it hadn't. If anything, it was even stronger. With the memories of how his bare skin had felt against hers, how he'd tasted, the sounds he'd made for her ... she couldn't imagine how she'd ever think about anything else. "What did you do today?" he asked softly, almost intimately. It made her forget everything, even the possibility of finding the right words. She bit her lip and turned away from him, pulling away from his captivating gaze and looking at the city stretching out before her. Beside her, Neil made a soft noise, almost like a laugh, as if he knew exactly why she'd turned away from him - and he probably did, he was smug like that. Claire cupped the railing with her hands, the cold of the metal allowing her to think clearly again.

 

"You didn't hear about it?" she asked with a slight grin, daring a glance in his direction. Much to her surprise, he had scooted a little closer, and Claire caught her breath. He didn't say anything for a moment, as if he sensed her presence just as much as the other way around, before he smiled slightly.

 

"Hear about what?" Claire's eyebrow rose, as if expecting a sarcastic remark. But when he still said nothing and then gave her a confused look, she turned a little more in his direction.

 

"Really?" Neil frowned, but a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth.

 

"No, what?" Claire shook her head and sighed in frustration.

 

"I'll tell you later," she murmured, looking away again, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Neil made a quite noise, and in the corner of her eye, she saw his hand move. Before she could say anything, she felt the warmth of his skin against her cheek. As if by reflex, she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly, realizing how much she had already missed his touch. When his finger gently stroked her skin, it was as if there was nothing else. Nothing other than this moment, nothing other than them. But the next second, her mind returned and her eyes opened again. She looked into Neil's eyes, and her body began to cry out for him again, for his slightly smirking lips to press against hers again. "Neil," she breathed instead, as a warning. At least, that was what she had meant, but the word was nothing more than a needy breath that hadn't sounded very convincing, even to her own ears. But Neil just nodded slightly and dropped his hand again.

 

"I know," he said, still quietly, still with a cheeky grin on his face. Claire exhaled heavily, shook her head slightly, but the corners of her mouth automatically turned up.

 

"I handled a multi-trauma intake for Lim today," she said, trying to ease the tension between them at least a little. Neil raised his eyebrow, an emotion somewhere between joy and awe flashing in his eyes.

 

"Did you?" Claire nodded smugly and could feel the warmth spreading through her chest again. She loved seeing that expression on his face. Even though he'd looked at her like that countless times before, sometimes when he thought she wouldn't notice and sometimes when he wanted her to, this was one of the few times she could say with complete conviction that she deserved that look. "So how did it go?" Claire slowly shrugged her shoulders, her gaze fixed on him, a smile playing on her lips.

 

"What do you think?" Neil said nothing for a moment, until his expression became a little more serious, no less warm, but something had changed that she couldn't quite interpret. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, and he shook his head, not as if he couldn't believe it, but as if he had expected nothing else. He took a sharp breath.

 

"So, what do I have to prepare for now? Are you leaving our team to work in trauma?" he asked, mock-hurt. Claire pretended to think about it, eyebrow raised, hands on her hips.

 

"Hmm. Let's just say I'm considering my options." Neil snorted and looked away, the smirk slowly fading from his face, and Claire frowned. "You look tired," she observed, scooting a little closer to him. As if by reflex, she placed her hand on the railing, almost close enough that their fingers were touching. Neil watched her movement and tilted his head slightly before glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. His smug expression quickly returned.

 

"I didn't get much sleep last night." Claire heard the warm undertone in his voice and did everything she could to swallow the grin that that tone brought to her, but she wasn't successful.

 

"Is that so?" His eyes flicked to her lips, and Claire held her breath as if by reflex. The familiar warmth pooled in her stomach, and she found it difficult to breathe. The air between them was thick and almost unbearably heavy, so she leaned closer to him, her body begging for release. She was close to him, so close she could feel his breath on her skin, before he took an almost imperceptible step back, his eyebrow raised in amusement. He looked around as if he expected them to be watched, and only then did Claire come to her senses and clear her throat. It drove her crazy how little control she had over herself, how hard it was to keep her distance. She looked into his eyes, which were still half-closed, as if he felt it as much as she did. But there was something else in them, something that made Claire's stomach clench. "Are you okay?" she asked carefully. Her hand slid a little closer to him, so that their fingertips touched. It wasn't much, almost no contact, but she felt his warmth, which seemed to radiate throughout her body. This time he didn't pull away. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his lips parted as he shook his head.

 

"Yeah, I'm just thinking a little too much." Claire's mind automatically began to race as well. Did he disagree with her plan after all? Did he perhaps regret it, at least to some extent? But before she could sink further into the abyss of thought, she felt Neil's hand on hers, warm and steady. Her eyes met his immediately, and he smiled in affirmation. "This has nothing to do with you. Not with us." Claire nodded slowly and exhaled softly. For a moment, she said nothing, simply savoring the feeling of his hand on hers. That, too, wasn't much, technically nothing inappropriate, not enough, but it was theirs. A moment stolen in the darkness, away from the eyes that had forced them apart all day. Neil sighed, a mixture of relief and a weight on his shoulders. "I had an ... argument with Lim this morning. I'm just figuring out how to handle this."

 

"Oh," Claire managed to say, tilting her head as she watched him. She could see how much it was bothering him and couldn't help wondering what it could have been - it was rare for him to let anything get so close to him. Especially with Audrey, he was usually quick to find a middle ground with her. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly when his gaze met hers. He hesitated, but before she could say anything else, he shook his head.

 

"No, it's ... nothing," he finally said firmly, even though Claire heard that it wasn't. She raised her eyebrow, and Neil sighed. "It'll work out." She nodded, sensing that he was shutting down. From experience, she already knew there was no point in pushing him any further. In the worst case scenario, he'd become not just dismissive, but defensive. She sighed and looked out at the city lights. His thumb gently stroked the inside of her wrist, and somehow that already made her feel better. "Would you like to come over tonight?" he asked quietly, a little husky, and Claire's gaze automatically flicked to him. His expression was neutral, but the twinkle in his eyes betrayed him. She smiled slightly.

 

"I thought you needed to get some sleep." Neil shrugged slightly, his face now completely smug again, as if he couldn't help himself. He probably couldn't.

 

"I will," he murmured, Claire nodding in disbelief. "I can keep my hands to myself." A soft laugh escaped Claire's lips before she could stop it. Neil raised his eyebrow, but also chuckled.

 

"Of course you can." For a moment, silence fell over them, pleasant and charged. She was already completely absorbed by the feeling again when she shook her head. "I'm already seeing Morgan tonight." Neil couldn't hide the surprised expression on his face as he stepped back a little.

 

"Morgan? Did I miss something?" Claire shrugged. She hadn't seen it coming either. There had been a few occasions where they'd gone out drinking together, but never alone, never as an activity among friends. Claire didn't know how Morgan had managed to sneak into her heart so quickly, perhaps it was simply because she was showing her real side more often these days, whatever the reason.

 

"Well, she asked if we should go for a drink. Apparently, we're manhunting." Claire expected at least a hint of jealousy on his face, but was quickly disabused of that notion. Neil's cheeky grin only widened. Claire rolled her eyes playfully. Of course, he was smug and so full of himself that he no longer felt threatened. And in a way, that reassured her.

 

"Let me guess," he began, his eyebrows playfully furrowed. "You want to ... consider your options." Claire laughed so carefree that it surprised even her. It would have been almost uncomfortable if she hadn't noticed Neil's warm expression.

 

"Exactly." Neil nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving her. And for a moment, Claire allowed her eyes to fall on his lips. As pathetic as it was, she couldn't imagine ever enjoying another person's kisses again after Neil had kissed her the way he had. She hated that he was such a good kisser ... she loved that he was such a good kisser.

 

"There you are," she suddenly heard Morgan say, and she turned abruptly, taking a few steps back. She had been standing in the doorway for God knew how long, giving her a skeptical look. "Aren't you looking at your phone?" Claire's pulse pounded in her ears as she tried to read Morgan's expression to see what she had gleaned from what had happened between her and Neil.

 

"Oh, I ... still have my phone in my bag," she said, her voice a little higher than usual. Morgan raised an eyebrow, her gaze flickering between Neil and Claire for a brief moment. Claire watched him out of the corner of her eye - he wasn't letting anything on, his professional facade having already replaced his mischievous smile. She almost giggled, but suppressed it.

 

"Well, stop dawdling, come on." Morgan waved her hand toward the door and turned to leave. Claire exhaled with relief. "Good night, Dr. Melendez," she added with an undertone Claire didn't really trust.

 

"Night," he called calmly after her. Claire sighed and gave him another quick glance before following Morgan. "Oh, Claire." She turned around again, Neil already folded his arms in front of his chest again. "I also spoke to the others about your patient, Maya. Her mother still won't consent to the necessary tests or to her being referred to a psychiatric facility. So we'll keep an eye on that for now - Dr. Lim will take care of everything else." Claire frowned and hesitated for a moment.

 

"Can I perhaps try to speak to the mother again? As I said, I think it's necessary for us to treat her immediately." Neil studied her face for a moment before nodding hesitantly.

 

"Okay. But know your limits. I don't want her mother to take her out of our hospital because she doesn't trust us." Claire said nothing, just nodded. Even if she didn't completely agree with him, she wasn't about to argue with him now when Morgan was already waiting for her. She turned to leave, the door already in her hand. "Have a good night," he added, and Claire didn't have to turn around to notice his smug grin.

 

“You too, Dr. Melendez.”

 

****

 

The evening was surprisingly relaxed, more pleasant than Claire had expected. Morgan had talked about the surgery she'd assisted with throughout the taxi ride, which led Claire to believe she hadn't noticed anything between her and Neil. This meant that she was able to relax and unwind with Morgan relatively easily, even though she quickly noticed that Morgan took her drinking a bit more seriously than she did. As a result, she got tipsy relatively quickly, but much to Claire's surprise, this time she was neither too pushy nor too direct. She was exuberant in a way Claire had never experienced her before, lively and funny. After just the first hour, Claire's face hurt from grinning so much. Moran sat across from her, already half-lying on the table as she used the small umbrella from her drink as a targeting gun, scanning the bar. "Okay, okay. Operation: Fun. I'll find someone for you with decent bone structure and a bad attitude, and you," she pointed at Claire, her eyebrows furrowed tightly, "find someone who can make me forget what my name is." Claire laughed before groaning in annoyance and rolling her eyes.

 

"Hard pass." Morgan's gaze landed on her, a little too serious for the situation. She raised her hand, her index finger pointed demandingly at Claire.

 

"Claire, girl. You're glowing with repressed energy. You need a night of terrible decisions and defined abs." Claire shook her head with a smile as she looked around the crowded bar. It was definitely too busy for her taste - typical ladies' night. Countless beautiful women, already far too drunk from the cheap drinks, and pushy men hoping to win over one of the ladies. Claire was glad she was no longer one of those women who went after guys like that, even though it hadn't been that long ago that she'd gone to bars for exactly that reason.

 

"I'm perfectly content with my drink and not being hit on by a guy in a deep V-neck," she said with a slight chuckle, extending her drink toward Morgan. Morgan rolled her eyes before scanning the bar again. Claire couldn't imagine any of the men being her type, and apparently she was right, as Morgan slumped back into her seat with a pout.

 

"You're no fun. I brought you out to live dangerously." Claire paused before shaking her head.

 

"No, you didn't. You said you wanted moral support. And here I am. Moral and supportive," she mumbled through the straw between her teeth, but Morgan didn't seem to be listening anymore, as she was already scrolling through her phone again, completely absorbed. It was fine with Claire. It seemed a bit strange to her, manhunting with Morgan, knowing full well that she wasn't looking for a man. It felt off; Neil and her hadn't really discussed what they were, but it was an unspoken truth - they were together, weren't they? She couldn't remember the last time she'd actually been in a proper relationship, though. The thing with Jared was pretty close to being one, but it had been something casual that might have developed into something more, if it would've lasted longer. Everything after that had been encounters she would gladly forget, and the time before that too ... during her teenage years, when she still lived with her mother, she occasionally had something with boys who, in retrospect, had been anything but good for her. Even then, this pattern had already developed; she always sought out men she could control, or at least pretend for a while that she could. She had used them to make everything else in her life bearable, had become almost addicted to the feeling these naive, broken boys had given her. Sometimes she was seeing several at the same time, but it had never been enough, never enough for feelings, let alone a relationship, because that was what she wanted. Because it had been safer. In college, she had fallen in love, or at least thought she had. They had met and almost immediately started dating for almost a year. She'd felt safe with him, loved and seen, but as it turned out later, not because it had been that way, but because his behavior reminded her of her mother's. Something she'd been used to, something that, in a twisted way, had made her feel at home. All in all, Claire couldn't say she was the most experienced when it came to relationships. She was pretty sure she was - in a relationship with him. With Neil Melendez. And it was probably the alcohol in her system, but that thought didn't scare her, in fact, it probably almost made her happy.

 

"You know who I definitely wouldn't push off the edge of my bed?" Morgan asked suddenly, the words beginning to sound a little unclear. Claire just made a questioning noise as she scanned the bar, checking to see if she noticed anyone interesting. But before she could say anything, Morgan slid her phone across the table, and Claire raised an eyebrow. Morgan nodded at her, and she picked it up, looking at the picture of the man smiling at her through the screen. Obviously quite tall, with dark hair that was now considerably grayer, and a smile that could melt a woman's heart.

 

"Who's that?" she asked curiously. When Morgan didn't answer, Claire looked over at her, but she just grinned broadly and nodded at the picture again.

 

"Richard Lane. Our new Glassman." Claire hesitated, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked back at the picture. He was wearing a dark suit that clung tightly to his muscles, and Claire was smirking.

 

"How do you know that?" Morgan rolled her eyes theatrically and snatched the phone from Claire to take another look.

 

"I got it from Evans. I've told you, he's a chatterbox. My God, have you seen those eyes?" Morgan asked with a deep growl before biting her lip. Claire found it strange that there was already a face for the person who would replace Glassman. It made the whole thing more real, and she had to swallow the lump in her throat that formed at the thought. "Seriously, are men like that even made these days? He's absolutely perfect from head to toe." Claire laughed before taking another sip of her drink.

 

"Careful, you're drooling." Morgan raised her gaze for a split second, a twinkle flashed in her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitched upward, but then she focused back on the picture in front of her. Claire tilted her head, amused. "I didn't think he was your type." Morgan raised her gaze again and pushed the phone into the middle of the table. She looked at Claire expectantly, as if she didn't know what she was getting at. Claire shrugged. "I don't know, isn't he a good ... fifteen years too old for you? He's probably, what ... mid-to-late fifties?" For a moment, Morgan said nothing, studied the picture in front of her and looked back up at Claire. Then she tilted her head.

 

"Hmm, yeah. He's definitely not the type for the long term. But isn't he everyone's type? I mean, he's sooo attractive," she said, drawing out almost every other word. "And that gray fox thing has also something to it, I don't know." Claire chuckled and shook her head. Morgan, however, didn't let her off the hook completely, her eyebrow raised skeptically. "Oh, come on, Miss Innocent. Say something. You'd get him just the same, admit it." Her voice was still far too serious for the situation, and that made the whole thing even funnier. Claire sighed and looked at the picture again. A sound between a hum and a murmur escaped her lips before she could stop it.

 

"I wouldn't complain," she finally said, slumping back into her seat under Morgan's beaming gaze. Morgan squealed and pulled the phone back toward her.

 

"Right? And he looks like he's really good in bed, too. It's been ages since I've had good sex." She groaned in annoyance and threw her head back. "You know, the really good kind of sex you have to recover from. Not like that dry humping with the anesthesiologist last month." Claire almost choked on her drink and looked at Morgan, perplexed. But Morgan seemed so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't even look up. Claire hadn't known she'd slept with someone from the hospital, which was odd, since word usually spread quickly. Especially since it hadn't been a good experience either. "It's been ages for you, too, hasn't it? Or was one of those bar guys you were hooking up with for a while the winner?" Claire's words caught in her throat, her gaze fixed on Morgan, her mind intent on suppressing the warmth spreading across her face. Was this a pawn question? Had she perhaps overheard something on the balcony and was now trying to get the truth out of her?

 

"Uhm ...," she stammered, trying to suppress the images of the previous night that began to dance before her eyes. Bare skin, tensed muscles, bodies moving in an intense, demanding rhythm ... "What?" She swallowed hard. "Oh, right. Yeah. It's been way too long, I agree." Morgan nodded empathetically and lost herself in a recap of that night with the anesthesiologist, to which Claire was barely listening. She let her gaze wander around the bar, less out of interest than as a distraction from the increasingly drunk Morgan. "Alex?" she finally asked, assuming she saw him sitting at the bar. Morgan immediately fell silent and followed her gaze. At that moment, the man turned slightly to the side, revealing his profile.

 

"What's he doing here?" Claire shrugged and watched him without comment for a few moments. He still seemed lost, just as he had the last time she'd seen him in the hospital. His shoulders slumped, his gaze lost in his almost empty glass.

 

"Do you think we should bring him over?" Claire asked, more to herself. Morgan narrowed her eyes, but much to Claire's surprise, she just waved her off.

 

"Say what you want, but you're not going to stop me from my mission to find you a friend for the night." Claire rolled her eyes and pushed herself up from her seat. Alex didn't exactly look like he was in the mood to talk, but she'd probably feel bad if she didn't even offer him some company. "Then bring me another one of those," Morgan called after her, tapping her half-empty glass. Claire raised her thumb in her direction and pushed through the increasingly dense crowd until she reached the bar. Alex didn't look up immediately; he probably hadn't even noticed her.

 

"Fancy some company?" she asked with a warm smile, which elicited an annoyed groan from him. Claire raised an eyebrow, but at that moment Alex turned to her, his gaze warming.

 

"Oh, Claire. Hey." She said nothing, but studied him for a moment. He didn't turn away from her completely, but immediately picked up his glass and sipped it again.

 

"You seem a bit lost. We thought you might want to join us." Claire saw the slightest movement on his face, but he hid it just behind the rim of his glass.

 

"We? Who's we?" Claire hesitated to answer, knowing that Morgan alone would be reason enough for him to say no. But then he glanced at her, and she nodded toward their table. Alex followed her movement, and when he noticed Morgan, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan escaped his lips. He shook his head and turned back, his gaze immediately lost in his drink. Claire sighed and turned to the bartender to order their drinks, but then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alex empty his glass in one go and rap on the bar. "Well, alright." Claire smiled and nodded at him, but wasn't quite sure how to interpret his reaction. Before she could think it through too much, she got her drinks and invited Alex to follow her. When they reached their table, Morgan looked up, her eyebrow raised challengingly.

 

"Just the kind I expected to see here for ladies' night," she said with a sharp tone that, surprisingly, sounded more playful than usual. "What's up, sweetheart? Did your boyfriend dump you and you need to drown your sorrows in alcohol?" Claire gritted her teeth, expecting Alex to turn around and leave right away, but he just snorted with something like a wide grin before plopping down next to Morgan.

 

"All these beautiful women here, and I end up next to you. I guess I do have a problem," he murmured, and Claire couldn't help but notice Morgan's small smirk, which she probably would have hidden if she hadn't already been so drunk. As Morgan took her drink, she bit her lip slightly.

 

"Oh, today's your lucky day, sunshine. Stop feeling sorry for yourself - you're sitting at the table with the hottest women in the room. Enjoy it and shut up." Claire sat down across from them and watched the spectacle without saying anything, too stunned to think straight. There had been few situations where the two hadn't been at each other's throats, but she'd never seen them joking around. Now it felt like a car crash, one she didn't want to look at, but couldn't look away from either. Yes, the two were obviously very drunk, but it was still strange how well they were getting along now. Morgan was busy filling him in on their mission, which actually elicited a small, quiet laugh from Alex. "Okay, new plan. I find someone reckless and hot. Park finds someone weirdly intense and vaguely intimidating. And Claire ..." Alex looked over the rim of his glass at Claire, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

 

"Finds a reason why no one's good enough." Claire snorted and rolled her eyes playfully.

 

"Wow. That was fast." For a moment, he just watched her, and Claire raised an eyebrow. It wasn't the first time he'd told her off, but she hadn't expected him to take Morgan's side so quickly.

 

"You know what your problem is?" he asked after a long sip. She really wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to that, especially noticing Morgan's slight smirk in the corner of her eye. She raised her eyebrow.

 

"Please, enlighten me." Morgan giggled and rubbed her hands together.

 

"Oh hell yeah. I love where this is going." Their eyes met, and Claire definitely didn't loved where this was going. Alex shrugged.

 

"You think too much. About everything. You analyze people just for the sake of it." Claire exhaled in shock before sipping her drink.

 

"How dare I, a doctor, think?" she asked sarcastically, earning a slight chuckle from Alex. Morgan grumbled and raised her eyebrow, extending her glass in Claire's direction.

 

“No, but he’s right. You’ve got this annoying habit of standing at the edge of every cliff and making a pros and cons list instead of just … jumping.” She drew out the last word unnaturally and added a sweeping hand gesture. Claire shook her head slowly, now amused by the situation.

 

“You two have had, what, seven drinks combined? This explains the mutiny.” Morgan wagged her fingers dismissively, far too energetically and uncontrollably that it even made Alex laugh.

 

“No, no, no. This is not mutiny. This is … what’s it called when two enemies join forces to defeat a common threat?” She grimaced theatrically as she thought hard about it, but Park was already raising his glass in her direction.

 

“Temporary alliance.” Morgan rapped the table euphorically before pointing her finger at Claire.

 

“That’s it! Tempory allicance! And the threat is … your emotional stalling.” She whispered the last part as if it were a secret between the three of them. Claire was already rolling her eyes and sighing when she noticed Morgan's expression - a little too intense, her head tilted. "While we're at it, maybe we should talk about your taste in clothes, too, because ..." Her gaze scanned her from head to toe. "Ouch." Claire gave her a long, unimpressed look.

 

"Wow." Morgan shook her head and slapped Alex on the shoulder, presumably to encourage him to speak up.

 

"I don't mean that in a bad way, it's just ... Come on. You don't have to let every guy within a ten-feet radius know you have mommy issues." Claire couldn't suppress the urge and looked down at herself. As usual, she was wearing a blouse and jeans. When she raised her gaze again, she immediately met Morgan's. "Can't you see?" Morgan asked, several octaves too high. "You have such a beautiful face, a fantastic body, but you hide it in the clothes of a forty-year-old." Claire snorted and forced a small smile, which certainly wasn't all that convincing. She thought her clothes were beautiful, or at least she felt comfortable in them, but she'd gotten alot of nasty comments about them. Especially earlier, when she only ever wore clothes that were way too tight for her because her mother had forgotten to buy her new ones after she had grown out of the others. And later, when she had borrowed from her mother's wardrobe to appear more grown-up. These days, she didn't really care about it anymore, since she mostly walked around in scrubs anyway.

 

"I don't see a problem," she finally mumbled into her glass, and Morgan looked between her and Alex in disbelief.

 

"No, but you can give the ladies a little breathing room. They're beautiful, let them see the world." Claire rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress the slight chuckle. Morgan nudged Alex with her elbow. "Come on, say something. Tell me those aren't nice boobs." Alex hesitated for a moment, but then shrugged.

 

"That seems like a trap to me, and as a man, I know I shouldn't answer that." His eyes flickered down her body for a moment, and Claire felt the blush creep into her cheeks. "But my professional opinion as a doctor - those are a good pair of breasts." Claire now laughed boisterously, and Morgan joined in with a slight giggle. It was quite obvious how drunk they were by now, their faces red and their eyes glazed over.

 

"I can't believe you're ganging up on me. I'm the nice one! You'd better start hating yourselves again." Claire laughed, shaking her head, and Morgan tilted her head, pouting theatrically.

 

"We're not ganging up on you. We just want to help you. You finally need some action. You're showing clear signs of being undersexed. We have to intervene now, before it's too late." Claire was still grinning broadly, but her secret was safe with her. She shrugged innocently.

 

"I'm not undersexed." Morgan snorted and leaned back in her chair, arms crossed.

 

"The stick up your ass doesn't count." Alex choked on his drink at these words, so hard that it spurted out of his nose. Morgan suddenly burst out laughing, and Claire found herself in a situation with two completely drunk friends making jokes at her expense. She raised her eyebrow and leaned forward, elbows on the table, her gaze serious. She suppressed the smile with practice.

 

“You know what’s funny? You both act like you’ve got me figured out - but neither of you are all that hard to read either.” Alex gave her a skeptical look before starting to chuckle.

 

“Oh, here it is.” Claire turned to Morgan and looked her up and down.

 

“You. You wear that cold girl armor like that is all you are. You flirt, you joke, you pretend nothing touches you … but it’s not true. I’ve seen you care, just today actually. You’re kind. Loyal. You fight for your people, even when they don’t even know they’re yours. And you hide that because what? Are you afraid that someone might actually like what they see and that would make you look weak?” Morgan raised her eyebrow and said nothing, but her expression was much more serious than before. Alex already had his eyes on Claire, his expression unreadable. Claire sighed. "And you. You didn't just disappear after the earthquake. You ran. You shut us out. You isolated yourself so no one could ask how you were doing. But you needed help. You still do. And instead of reaching for it, you've been sitting in the dark, waiting for someone to break the door down." For a moment that dragged on forever, a silence fell over them, broken only by the loud laughter of the other people and the music, which had now switched to country. Morgan wrinkled her nose and leaned forward.

 

"The little one bites back. I love her," she said almost proudly, and Claire gave her a warm smile. But her gaze wandered further to Alex, who had folded his arms on the table, his eyes fixed on his glass. His hand gripped it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Claire toyed with the idea of ​​apologizing; perhaps she had gone too far. But then he raised his eyes, and there was so much pain in them that it silenced her.

 

"At the brewery ... I lost that child, Corey. Barely grown up." His voice broke on the last words, and his eyes lost themselves in the void, as if he were no longer there. His eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head. "I don't know, it's just too much. I don't know ... how I'll ever get over this." A sigh escaped his lips, and Claire leaned forward, her hand stretched slightly across the table, not demanding, but offering.

 

"Alex ..." His gaze still didn't find her, and the words caught in her throat. His shoulders were tense, as if he were literally carrying the weight of that night with him.

 

"He was so scared and there was nothing I could do. Nothing. He was just unlucky and it's ... just not fair. He was so incredibly young and so full of guilt ..." Claire tilted her head, expecting him to continue, but he didn't.

 

"Guilt?" she asked softly and warmly, and this time his eyes met hers immediately. They were glassy and empty, but something in his face showed more than just pain. Claire couldn't read the emotion in them, and the next moment he closed his eyes and hesitated.

 

"He lost his mother. Overdose." At his words, everything in Claire's stomach tightened; she could feel the color draining from her face. The familiar feeling took hold of her, the one she always repressed until she felt sick, the one that kept her awake at night. She pressed her lips together tightly. Alex nodded softly at her, as if he knew exactly why it bothered her so much, and he probably did. He sighed heavily. "He found the pills in her bag when he was trying to steal money for a movie. He just wanted to go to the movies." Alex laughed bitterly, tears welling up in his eyes, even though he was clearly fighting hard to let them go. "He didn't tell anyone, went out with his friends, and when he came back, she was dead." Morgan leaned back in her chair before glancing at Claire.

 

"Holy crap." Claire's heart leaped into her throat, all the images she'd tried to suppress for so long flashing before her eyes, cold and ruthless. The wrecked car, her mother's lifeless body in the driver's seat, the bottle of alcohol Claire had gotten for herself to celebrate her solo surgery. She, who knew it had been her fault for not hiding the bottle well enough from her. She, who should have been more careful. Her fingernails dug into her palm, deep, painful, and comforting.

 

"It wasn't his fault," she managed to say, but the way Alex was looking at her, she knew how convincing that had sounded. Her teeth sank into the flesh of her cheek, her eyes burning with the emotions begging to be released, but Claire held back.

 

"He was just a stupid kid," Morgan interjected, her voice warm, though still brittle with alcohol. Alex shook his head.

 

"I know. But he didn't know. And when he ..." Alex swallowed hard, his breath short and ragged. "As it was slowly coming to an end, all he wanted was his dad. So that he would hold him ... so he could apologize for that one stupid mistake. That kid just wanted his father, who was so far away that he couldn't make it there in time to say goodbye." His thumb darted up and wiped away a tear that had crept from the corner of his eye, and after that, there was silence between them, but the atmosphere was somber, tearing them apart. Claire wished she'd gone to Alex when she'd seen him with the boy at the brewery. She probably couldn't have told the kid any more than Park had, she couldn't have changed anything, but that small, loud part of her blamed her for how things had turned out. "I think I'm moving back to Phoenix." That made Claire and Morgan look up, but Alex had returned his gaze to his glass.

 

"What?" Morgan managed after a long moment of silence. Alex shook his head before wiping his face.

 

"I just can't ... this ... I can't bear the thought of being so far away from Kellan. Not after ..." His voice broke and ended in a sigh. "What ... if something like that happens to him? What if he calls for his dad and I'm not there? How could I ever forgive myself?" Claire watched as another tear escaped his eye, this time he let it fall. Her throat tightened at the sight of him. She knew how difficult it was to separate personal from professional, especially in cases like this. From the outside, it was an irrational fear on Alex's part; the chances of something like this happening were slim. But after a week like this, where they'd literally survived an earthquake, what did probability matter?

 

"Phoenix ... do you have a place to work there? You'll still be in the middle of the residency if you leave now, you would have to start over ..." Alex raised his hands defensively.

 

"I get it. But ... I just want to be with him." Claire nodded, even though her heart sank a little at the thought of him leaving for good. She understood him, probably better than most, but letting him go certainly wouldn't be easy. She liked him, always had.

 

"That's ... the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Morgan interjected, raising her eyebrows and laughing way too shrilly.

 

"Morgan!" She shrugged, the straw between her teeth again.

 

"What? That doesn't make any sense." She turned so she could fully face Alex. "You decide to move to San José, hours away from your family, so you can do a job you love. Then, just before you could actually become anything, you tuck your tail between your legs and go back to them with ... absolutely nothing to show off. That's embarrassing, even for someone like you, sweetheart." Alex raised an eyebrow and looked at her, his mouth half-open, as if he still couldn't believe what she'd said. The air was charged by now, and Claire could have sworn all hell was about to break loose. Instead, Morgan sighed, her features softening. "Think about it. People die every day. Maybe Kellan dies today, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, or maybe even sixty years from now. Maybe your plane crashes on the way to him. You have no control over that. Do you know what you do have control over?" Alex said nothing, and Morgan gave him an expectant look. When he still didn't answer after a few more seconds, she put down her glass with a groan. "You have control over who you are. And who you will become. Do you really think your son will be happy if you give up the person you've been for the past few years, simply because you're scared?" Alex's jaw tensed, but his gaze softened slightly.

 

"Probably not." Morgan nodded euphorically and clapped her hands as if she'd just taught a monkey how to write.

 

"No, he wouldn't, because then all that time you were away would have been completely for nothing. That means you're going to see this shit through to the end. And if you still want to leave after that, arrivederci! Bye, arrive safely, we'll miss you terribly, please, never come back." She laughed wholeheartedly, and Claire couldn't help but smile a little as a bit of peace returned to Alex's face. It was almost funny how Morgan was proving exactly what Claire had said just a few minutes ago. Alex's gaze lingered on Morgan for a moment, a mixture of confusion and relief, followed by a brief nod.

 

"That ... wasn't bad advice, actually. Thanks." She just nodded, and Alex's smile lingered for a moment longer before he wrinkled his nose. "You know, you're actually not so bad." Morgan laughed softly and then rolled her eyes before gently patting his cheek.

 

"Okay, stop drooling. I'm still not letting you touch me, forget it." Alex groaned in annoyance and turned away from her.

 

"Okay, the moment's over." Claire leaned back in her chair, watching Alex and Morgan volley back and forth with half-hearted insults and accidental tenderness. Morgan’s eyes were glassy now, not from sadness but from fun and well, being drunk. Her laugh was a little too loud. Alex’s posture had softened, he was smiling more than Claire had seen in what seemed like forever. She wondered, briefly, if this was what healing looked like - a blur of noise and drinks and people saying things they’ll pretend they didn’t mean in the morning. Maybe it was just repression or something in between. But for a brief moment, it was almost peaceful, sitting there with the two of them, in a bar that was far too crowded and had become almost stuffy. Morgan and Alex, who normally seemed to despise each other, but who, in times like these, when one of them, or maybe both, was down, stuck together. They made the pain almost bearable, but Claire's chest felt tight. She traced her finger along the rim of her glass, chasing the last of the ice around in slow circles. Whatever Morgan had said a moment ago hadn’t landed. Claire had stopped listening. She was here in the bar, sure. She was laughing when they laughed, making comments when expected. But her thoughts were elsewhere. Morgan suddenly poked her arm.

 

“Claire,” she slurred. “You’re doing that thing again. Spacing out. Stop being mysterious and tell Alex that he's not half as funny as he thinks he is.“ Claire smirked, hiding the ache in her chest.

 

“I feel like I need another drink.”

 

“That’s the spirit,” Morgan declared, raising her glass in triumph. Claire smiled softly, but she felt it disappear before it had even spread across her face. She hated this feeling in her chest that made her feel like she was suffocating. The feeling that clouded her head and made thinking difficult. Just a few hours ago, she had felt invincible, like she could take on the world. A strong, independent woman, ready to embrace the feelings that had been so painfully foreign to her just a short while ago. And now she felt small, trapped in the cage of her past and everything that held her back from rising above herself. Again. She felt alone, even with her friends sitting across from her. She felt powerless against the choking feeling in her throat. She didn’t want to be mysterious. She simply wanted to be the woman she had thought she was until a few hours ago.

 

---

 

Chapter 9: They say time's supposed to heal you

Notes:

Hi Guys.

So, some chapters will be harder to read than others. This is one of them. Fair warning: we will follow claire in her therapy session today, at least for the beginning of the chapter. We all know claire's past, so if this something that triggeres you, feel free to skip that part. But I think it is an important part of who she is (even tho it is barely mentioned in the show. But come on. A past like that isn't easy to overcome) and will explain why she feels a certain way about a few certain things.
So yes. We will get some light moments too, tho. Hope you'll enjoy ❤️‍🩹

 

---

 

It rarely rained in San José, but when it did, it poured. Today was one of those days, almost ironic how the weather adapted to her mood. Claire stared out the window, watching a raindrop trickle down, watching it cross the path of another and merge with it. It was almost relaxing, even though everything inside her was just chaos. Her head was still slightly pounding from the night before - after Alex had opened up and told the story about Corey, Claire had let herself go and gone with Morgan, alcohol-wise. She was already completely wasted when she left the bar sometime in the early hours of the morning. Now, just a few hours later, she hated herself for it. It was always difficult for her to have a therapy session before her next shift, knowing how upsetting the sessions always were. Now, there was the stabbing pain in her temples, but it had just been her fault. Even when they were still in the bar, she'd known she was overstepping her limits, but at that moment, she hadn't cared. Alex's story had upset her, so much so that she wasn't sure whether it was best to distract herself from the whole issue of her mother or to face it. But this wasn't her first session with Dr. Malkin, and Claire already knew she could be steered in a different direction when it came to topics of conversation. She had a habit of always wanting to talk about the things Claire least wanted to discuss, but that was probably the point of therapy. For a split second, she'd considered discussing the latest developments regarding Neil, but somehow that was even more frightening than devoting time talking about her mother.

"Did the rain catch you on your way here?" Dr. Malkin asked warmly as she sipped her tea. She had this calming aura that made Claire feel like she was actually just talking to a friend and not being analyzed to her core. Claire looked away from the window, not knowing how much time had passed since she'd sat down on the couch. She gave Dr. Malkin a quick smile that she already knew wouldn't seem particularly genuine.

 

"Just missed it. It started right as I got to the building." Dr. Malkin smiled too, her gaze directed at Claire, almost casually.

 

"Good timing," she said, the cup to her lips. Claire nodded and returned her gaze to the shaggy pillow in her lap. Her fingers played with the loose threads, her leg bounced restlessly in place. Dr. Malkin looked out the window, almost lost in thought. "I always liked the smell before the rain starts. That heavy stillness, like something's about to give." Claire tilted her head and thought about it for a moment.

 

"Yeah. I like the smell too," she began, without taking her eyes off her fingers. "When it rains, it's always quiet outside, but not peaceful. I sometimes wish it would rain here more often ..."

 

"Exactly." She sipped her tea as her eyes landed on Claire again. Claire didn't look up; she knew this was her transition to more serious topics, and she wasn't ready for that. "Sometimes our minds feel like that too. Holding something just beneath the surface." Claire wrinkled her nose. That was almost too cliché, but she raised her eyes anyway, expecting her to continue. "Have you felt that lately?" Claire hesitated for a moment before sighing.

 

"I guess ... I always do." Dr. Malkin said nothing, but her gaze wasn't questioning, not even expectant, just there. "I've gotten good at holding it in." Dr. Malkin ran her finger over her cup and tilted her head.

 

"And does keeping it in help?" Claire looked away, her body involuntarily tightened. The pillow on her lap felt too heavy by now, so she simply threw it to the other side of the sofa and clasped her hands together. She smiled, small, almost apologetic.

 

"It used to." Dr. Malkin got quiet, letting silence fall between them, for a brief moment. Claire had liked that from the beginning - she could sense when she needed to push and when Claire needed a moment to breathe.

 

"What made it helpful back then?" Claire stared at her for a moment, unmoving, realizing she'd fallen into her trap again. It was always easy for her to steer Claire in the right direction without her noticing. She sighed, resigned to her fate.

 

"It kept things from getting worse." She hesitated for a moment, her stomach clenching, as it always did when they returned to this conversation. The same feeling she'd had yesterday in the bar. "At home, I mean. With my mom ... If I said too much, or got too loud, or cried ... it didn't end well. So I learned not to." Dr. Malkin nodded and crossed one leg over the other. She didn't look at Claire as if she were judging her or her past; she never did. And yet there was that small part of Claire that was trying to convince her of just that.

 

"That sounds like a very smart child doing what she had to, to stay safe." Claire's jaw clenched and she had to look away, out the window, where the dark sky and pouring rain calmed her.

 

"I don't know about smart. I just ... adapted." In the corner of her eye, she saw Dr. Malkin smile, only gently and quietly.

 

"That's what's smart, sometimes." Claire didn't answer right away, her finger drumming nervously on her knee, and she knew Dr. Malkin noticed. There had been days when she'd felt ashamed for showing her discomfort so openly, but that was a long time ago. Therapy had helped, at least in that regard. Or maybe it was the fact that she'd had a meltdown in the middle of the stairwell and let her boss comfort her. Maybe it was both.

 

"My mom used to say I was too sensitive." She shrugged slightly, but her body felt heavy under the weight of the past. "She said it like it was a flaw I had to grow out of."

 

"Did you believe her?" Dr. Malkin asked after a brief pause, and Claire looked back at her hands, at the way they were clasped far too tightly. Shame was always a big part of what she felt. She wasn't ashamed of feeling bad, but sometimes she felt like she was expected to get better someday. She hated that she was still trying to survive something that was long gone.

 

"I still do, sometimes," she admitted after a brief pause, but Dr. Malkin didn't react, didn't let on what was going through her mind as Claire said that. She was always difficult to read, and perhaps that was what made Claire feel safe, as she didn't feel exposed.

 

"Tell me more about her. Not just what she said, what she was like." Claire exhaled heavily through her nose, her teeth digging into the inside of her cheek, and she closed her eyes for a few seconds.

 

"Breeze was ..." Her voice was warmer than before, but still guarded. She opened her eyes slowly and sighed. "She had this laugh that filled a room, especially when she'd had a little wine. She loved music just like me, old soul records. Could dance barefoot in the kitchen like she didn't have a care in the world ... it was actually kind of impressive." A small smile had crept onto her lips, but it immediately disappeared when she looked into Dr. Malkin's face - her eyes slightly narrowed, a small line between her eyebrows.

 

"Claire, I want to ask you something." Something inside her tightened at those words, and when Dr. Malkin leaned forward, Claire's heart skipped a beat. She managed a slight nod before Dr. Malkin studied her. "Did you notice you just called your mother Breeze?" Claire raised an eyebrow, but before she could respond, Dr. Malkin placed her cup on the table in front of her and nodded. "Earlier, you said Mom. But just now, you said Breeze. In the last few weeks, I noticed you keep switching back and forth between those two things." Claire's mouth opened, but closed again before she could say anything. She shook her head slightly before meeting her gaze again.

 

"Do I?" Dr. Malkin gave her a warm smile before she leaned back and nodded barely perceptibly.

 

"Do you notice when that happens?" Claire remained silent for a moment, processing the words. The nausea in the pit of her stomach was now unbearable, the warm feeling behind her eyes almost preventing her from thinking. She sighed.

 

"I guess ... when I talk about the good parts ... or when I try to understand her, I think of her as Breeze. That was her name. Not the mom part. The ... person part."

 

"And when you say Mom?" Claire snorted and furrowed her brows, her fingernails digging into the skin of her hands without her noticing. She shrugged to diminish the significance, or to distance herself from it, or something in between.

 

“That’s the version who forgot to pick me up, who screwed up every school event. The version that … scared me. The one who stole my money to buy her booz.” Claire hated thinking about her school days and the way her mother had always embarrassed her or made the situation worse than it already was. She thought about prom, which she had been looking forward to for weeks, only for her mother to ruin that evening for her with her drinking problem. To this day, she had still not been able to forget the horrified looks or the mocking laughter of her classmates. “Breeze is easier to forgive … Just a sick woman who is to be pitied.” She sighed heavily again, her breath coming out shaky and weak from her lips. “But Mom is the one who left bruises I can never forgive. The one who was supposed to care for me. To love me ... but didn’t.” Dr. Malkin didn't answer right away, she simply nodded, as if she were memorizing her words and already forming a mental image of her.

 

"That distinction, it makes sense," she said softly, and Claire met her gaze. Her features remained neutral, but behind the facade lay something warm and comforting. "Sometimes naming something is a way of surviving it." Claire blinked hard, pressing her lips tightly together. Her throat felt tight, like it always was when she talked about it. It was as if her body itself wasn't ready to face the truth yet.

 

"It's ... when I talk about her as Mom, I get stuck. There's this wall that won't let me go any further, like a dark hole I just can't go through. But when I say Breeze, I can almost ... see her. Not as the person who raised me, but simply as a human being." Dr. Malkin tilted her head slightly, as if almost expecting her to continue speaking on her own, but Claire kept her gaze downcast. This had been a new realization for her, and even though it helped her understand herself better, it was a heavy burden to bear.

 

"And what does that shift give you?" Claire hesitated to answer, not because she didn't know, but because she was afraid to say it out loud.

 

"Distance." Another pause, the air between them thick, the pain in Claire's chest crushing. "And sometimes ... understanding. Or the illusion of it." Dr. Malkin leaned forward slightly again, almost imperceptibly. Not as if she wanted to invade Claires privacy, but as if she were giving her the feeling of understanding.

 

"Does it feel safer that way?" Claire shrugged.

 

"Yeah. Safer. And cleaner. Like if I call her Breeze, then what she did doesn't have to mean what it meant. It's just ... her stuff. Not mine." Dr. Malkin frowned slightly.

 

"But when she's Mom ..." Claire laughed a humorless laugh before crossing her arms over her chest, almost as if protecting herself from her inner self, as if it would make everything a little easier. But it didn't.

 

"Then it's mine. All of it." The silence after that was thick but not uncomfortable. Claire sat with it, her eyes distant, like she was watching a memory flicker on a screen she hasn't fully turned toward yet. Dr. Malkin saw it immediately because she shook her head.

 

“You’ve carried both versions of her. That’s a lot for a daughter. Especially one who was still just a child.” Claire pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. A clearing of the throat released the lump in it.

 

“I used to think I had to pick one. Good or bad. Sick or cruel. Mom or ... someone I made up to survive her.” She smiled slightly, but it disappeared behind the shadow that fell over her face.

 

“Maybe it’s not about choosing between them,” Dr. Malkin interjected. “Maybe it’s about learning to hold both at once, and still protect yourself.” Claire pressed her fingers together, thumb digging into the ridge between her knuckles. Her breath caught a little, not quite a sob, but close.

 

“I think I was scared that if I forgave her ... it meant what she did didn’t matter.” Her voice was quiet and cautious, as if she were afraid to hear it spoken. "That it didn't hurt as much as it did."

 

"So calling her Mom kept the pain real." Claire nodded, her eyes following the movements of her fingers, that were pushing in her skin.

 

"And calling her Breeze let me breathe." She laughed a small, bitter laugh. "Kind of ironic, isn't it?" The corner of Dr. Malkin's mouth twitched slightly, not out of humor, but out of empathy, and perhaps also because she realized how she was helping Claire understand herself.

 

"It makes perfect sense." Claire glanced up at that. There was no disbelief in Dr. Malkin's voice, just quiet recognition. "Our minds are smart like that. They give us distance when we're not ready to be too close to the fire." Claire snorted before looking up, a bitter smile on her lips.

 

"Yeah, well ... it still burns." Dr. Malkin nodded, giving her a moment of silence in which it was easier for her to breathe.

 

"Of course it does." She smiled cautiously but emphatically. "The name doesn't change the scar. But it can change how you carry it." Claire's stomach sank, but something began to stir in her mind that she didn't quite understand at the time. As if Dr. Malkin's words were actually getting through to her, even if she couldn't quite allow it. It was like a stone she'd carried around with her for years that suddenly felt foreign in her hand. And maybe a little lighter, too.

 

"Sometimes I think I made up the good parts. The breeze parts," she whispered, too afraid to admit that part to herself. "Like I needed her to be more than the person who hurt me." For a brief moment, an emotion flitted across Dr. Malkin's face, but she had hidden it behind her professional mask so quickly that it was impossible to interpret.

 

"Maybe you did that, to some extent. But maybe the good parts were real, too, just not enough to keep you safe. Or maybe the good parts were there and you just couldn’t see.“ Claire nodded slowly. As she blinked, she felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she shook them away like an annoying burden. "You were allowed to want her to be more. That doesn't make you naive. It makes you human." Claire exhaled sharply, a sound somewhere between laughter and disbelief.

 

"I don't think I've ever said any of this out loud." Dr. Malkin's smile turned warm, understanding, and she nodded.

 

“You’re saying it now.” Claire looked at her. For a second, she was not the composed doctor or the strong survivor. She was just a daughter. A child trying to make sense of the woman who both loved and failed her.

 

“Is that ... progress?” Dr. Malkin was still smiling.

 

“It’s healing.” She let the words sink in; for a moment, they were no longer heavy and oppressive, but almost liberating. As if they had been stuck beneath the surface for so long, her insides ripped open again and again, that even though they were now spoken, out and vulnerable, they seemed less dangerous than before. Claire smiled slightly.

 

“I used to think I had this one ... perfect day. I clung to it like it proved she loved me in the way I needed her to. But later ... I saw it differently. The cracks. The things I didn’t notice because I was a kid just trying to make it feel safe.” She swallowed hard, her gaze directed outside again. “It wasn’t what I thought it was.” Dr. Malkin tilted her head.

 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” And it was the first time Claire had actually wanted to. Because she felt like she would actually be understood. Still, her fingers tightened, her posture much more tense, almost like in her childhood, when she used to make herself as small as possible.

 

“I was nine … maybe a little younger. She was home all day, reading something about dressmaking in one of those stupid newspaper articles. And she wanted to make me a dress.” A wide grin spread across her face as warmth surged through her stomach. “It was this beautiful purple color, with these little pearl buttons down the back … She didn’t use a pattern, just cut it from some old fabric she found in the closet.” Dr. Malkin smiled, and Claire almost felt like she could relive that day, that if she closed her eyes, she could almost see the dress. "I remember standing on a stool while she pinned the hem, telling me to hold still. She even hummed while she worked, … this beautiful melody ... Nina Simone, probably. It was always Nina Simone." Her smile faded, and she sighed softly as the tight feeling spread through her chest again. "The dress was beautiful. I wore it every day, and it made me so ... happy. And she was so proud." Dr. Malkin remained silent, only nodding occasionally. Claire didn't look at her, her gaze fixed on her fingers. "At the time, I thought it was love, I thought she was doing it for me." She shook her head. "But that night she didn't sleep, didn't eat for days, and kept talking about starting a fashion line. I'm going to sew clothes for the stars." A humorless laugh escaped Claire's lips. "She did three more that week. Never finished them. They just hung in the hallway, like ghosts." She raised her eyes and met Dr. Malkin's. Her throat was dry, tight. "She didn't do it for me. She was just manic again. Like always." Dr. Malkin nodded, but allowed the silence to settle over them for a while. This time, it no longer felt comfortable, almost like a cage imprisoning Claire in her spoken words and her past.

 

"So even your happiest memory ... started to unravel," Dr. Malkin stated after a few moments of silence. Claire sighed.

 

"They always do. It's like she gave me something beautiful, and then took it away before I could trust it." Dr. Malkin frowned, barely perceptibly, but enough for Claire to notice.

 

"Maybe it's not about trusting her anymore. Maybe now it's about trusting yourself. That what you felt was real, even if it wasn't safe. Even if it didn't last." Claire sighed and nodded, even if she couldn't fully understand or accept it.

 

"I used to think if I could just be good enough ... quiet enough, smart enough ... she'd stay in that version of herself. The one who made dresses. The one who hummed." Her lips were pressed tightly together.

 

"The version you call Breeze." Claire nodded slowly and exhaled heavily, her breath shaky.

 

"Yeah. But that version never lasted. And every time she disappeared into the other one, it felt like a punishment. Like I'd done something wrong." Dr. Malkin leaned forward slightly, her legs crossed.

 

"What did you tell yourself when she changed?" Claire hesitated. She knew Dr. Malkin already knew the answer; it was the same as always.

 

"That it was me." Another pause, during which she glanced up at her briefly, almost waiting to see disapproval in her eyes. But she didn't. "That maybe if I hadn't outgrown the dress, or asked too many questions ... or looked at her the wrong way ... she wouldn't have slipped." She let out a shaky breath. "Even now, part of me still believes that. Even though I know ... I didn't cause it. I couldn't fix it." Dr. Malkin nodded in her direction, the hint of a smile on her face.

 

"That part - what if we listened to that part of you? What would it say?" Claire blinked hard before shrugging.

 

"I don't know." She hesitated, swallowing hard. "Maybe she'd say it's easier to blame herself than admit that her mom wasn't capable of loving her the way she needed." She looked up again, and this time she noticed the twinkle in Dr. Malkins eyes. "That it's easier to feel in control if it was somehow my fault."

 

"But it wasn't your fault. It isn't your fault." She smiled gently before shaking her head. "You've spent a long time learning how to survive love that hurts." Her voice was so warm that it brought tears to Claire's eyes, and for the first time in who knew how long, she felt like she could actually forgive herself someday. Or understand that she wasn't the problem. "It makes sense that trusting something safe ... might feel unfamiliar." Claire laughed softly, almost ashamed, and hid her face behind her hands.

 

"That's one way to put it. Sometimes I catch myself waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even when ... it hasn't." Dr. Malkin raised an eyebrow and Claire bit her tongue.

 

"Oh?" Claire hesitated, the air between them suddenly heavy. What would happen if she brought the thing with Neil up? Would Dr. Malkin judge her? Could she have guessed already? She had told her that she had feelings for her boss, but had never mentioned it again. Dr. Malkin wasn't stupid, tho. She could've easily put two and two together. She cleared her throat.

 

"There's someone in my life." She hesitated again, Dr. Malkin's face barely changed, but there was no disdain in it, and perhaps that was what gave Claire the strength to continue speaking. "He's ... good to me. Kind. But it's like part of me keeps checking the exits. Just in case." Dr. Malkin nodded, the corner of her mouth twitching for a moment before she smiled.

 

"That part of you, the one that still lives with her mother - she's not trying to destroy anything. She's just scared. Scared that maybe this time ... she won't have to run away." Claire nodded, a heavy breath escaping her lips as another feeling began to spread beneath the panic. The feeling she'd already felt that night in Neil's apartment, when it was just the two of them. It was something idiotic, something warm, something that had very quickly felt like familiarity.

 

"I don't know how to trust it yet. But I think ... I want to try." Dr. Malkin smiled and laughed contentedly.

 

"That wanting? That's the part of you that's already healing."

 

****

 

The therapy had been stressful for Claire, but also liberating, as it always was. Afterward, she usually didn't know whether she felt better or worse than before, but there was this unfamiliar feeling in her chest that she still couldn't quite place. Whatever it was, she was almost glad she had to drive to the hospital in the rain. The rainwater on her windshield helped her clear her mind and prepare for her workday. She'd felt bad about not having been able to stop by Glassman's the day before, even though she'd promised to. Somewhere between Morgan's teasing and the brief breath-holding with Neil on the balcony, she must have forgotten. She knew Glassman wouldn't hold it against her, especially if he'd heard about her actions in the emergency room, but she still wanted to make good on her promise before her shift. With her hair still wet - she didn't have an umbrella with her, of course, and wasn't even sure if she even owned one - she headed to Glassman's room. But she stopped before she even entered the room when she heard him talking to someone. She wondered if he was talking to another doctor, or if it might have been something personal. So she pulled her tablet closer to her body, trying not to eavesdrop and check on him later. Already turned around and ready to leave, she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks when the other person began to speak. Her heart beat a little faster for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed, before she decided to enter the room. As soon as she entered, both of them immediately turned to her.

 

"Shaun?" she asked, almost perplexed. He was standing in front of Glassman's bed, his hands clasped together, his lab coat already on.

 

"Hello." Claire stared at him for a moment, perplexed, before her gaze shifted to Glassman, who was smiling warmly. She took a few steps toward him.

 

"Where have you been? We've been worried about you." She noticed Glassman's expression darken for a brief moment, but Shaun was the picture of calm, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 

"You shouldn't have worried. I'm fine." Claire nodded, confused, and looked him up and down. Since he was wearing his work clothes, she suspected he wasn't just there for a visit, but was ready to get back to work, which was a good sign.

 

"Where have you been?" she asked again, and Shaun tilted his head as if he didn't understand the question. For a moment, he simply stared at her before his shoulders shook almost imperceptibly.

 

"I was with Lea." His voice didn't allow for any emotion, but then it rarely did. Claire's mouth fell open as she tried to follow his words. It didn't make sense that he had been with her. She wasn't always completely on top of the whole situation, but the last thing she'd heard was that Shaun was angry with Lea, hurt even. Because she admitted, she wasn't ready to be in a relationship with him because he's autistic.

 

"With Lea? But ..." She looked to Glassman for help, but his face showed just as little emotion as Shaun's. Still, there was a shadow in his eyes that she almost missed, but just almost.

 

"Yes, Lea and I are together now," he announced with Shaun-like euphoria, and Claire grimaced before she could stop herself.

 

"What? Since when?", was all she could manage, and Shaun shrugged as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

 

"We've been together since the earthquake. We met afterward, and I was actually mad at her for saying she couldn't love me, but then she said she did love me. And I love her too, so we've been together ever since, and I've been with her." Claire nodded slowly, trying to process it all. It wasn't that she didn't understand; after all, she'd let her feelings guide her that evening, too, and even if Neil and her hadn't ended up together at that time, it probably hadn't been far from it. Still, she couldn't believe Shaun had shut himself off like that, just to be with Lea.

 

"But Shaun, we were worried about you, and ... and Glassman needed surgery. Doesn't that matter to you at all?" Shaun didn't answer right away, just stared at her, and she could see how much it was working in his head. "I mean it, Shaun. You should have contacted me. At least him." She pointed at Glassman, who still showed no reaction. "Don't you care about any of us at all?" Shaun's hands tightened a little, and he seemed about to respond, but at that moment his pager went off. Claire sighed as Shaun glanced at it.

 

"I have to go, I've been paged." And with those words, he walked past Claire and disappeared without a backward glance. He went about his work as if he hadn't been missing for days. Claire frowned and looked at Glassman, whose features had softened somewhat by now.

 

"Can you believe it?" Glassman shrugged, not dismissively, but understandingly.

 

"You know him." She took a step closer to him and shook her head slowly, clearing her thoughts.

 

"I know, but I expected he'd be ... better at handling it by now? Or, I don't know ... trying harder." Glassman sighed, his eyebrows furrowed.

 

"Don't make the mistake of underestimating him. He's come a long way in the last few years." His voice was a bit too sharp for his warm words, and Claire took a barely perceptible step back. "That was an extremely stressful situation, and I'm proud of how he handled it." Claire nodded cautiously, a feeling of guilt creeping through her, even though she still felt the anger, the incomprehension that she usually tried to keep out when it came to Shaun. "He's fixated on Lea, and that ... is better than the alternative." Their eyes met, and the same shadow reflected in his eyes as when Claire had entered the room.

 

"Don't you like Lea?" she asked cautiously, but it seemed to catch him off guard, as he grimaced slightly before sighing heavily.

 

"I just want him to be safe." A sympathetic smile crossed Claire's face.

 

"And Lea hurt him," she stated, and Glassman nodded barely perceptibly. Claire exhaled heavily and looked out the window. She was someone who believed in second chances, maybe even third or fourth, and thought Lea deserved the chance to make amends for what she'd done to Shaun. She probably just wasn't ready, and who was she to judge her for that. On the other hand, Claire knew where Glassman was coming from; she'd been just as angry with Lea when she'd seen Shaun's change in mood. She was judgmental and wanted to protect Shaun - he probably had a harder time dealing with love than most people, and the risk of getting hurt was always higher with him. And they all knew how Shaun dealt with being really hurt. But Claire wanted him to be happy, and she knew how deep his feelings for Lea ran. Was it fair to protect him from potential pain and thereby deprive him of the chance for happiness? Shaun was autistic. Sure, many things were more difficult for him than others, but he was a normal human being who had the right to be loved, who also had the right to be hurt and to experience these things for himself. Perhaps Lea was exactly the person Shaun had been missing. "Well, at least he's back at work, that's good," she finally said, and Glassman sighed quietly before nodding.

 

"I already told him I won't be here for a while, and he's taken it surprisingly well. Maybe it's a good thing for him to get his mind off things for a bit." Claire snorted slightly and smiled.

 

"Probably. I'll keep an eye on him. And if she hurts him again, I know who’ll have my back when I need to get rid off the body," she added with a playful undertone that made Glassman laugh.

 

"Murder is still against hospital policy, Dr. Browne." Claire waved a hand with a grin and turned away. It wouldn't be the first policy she'd violated, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

 

****

 

Neil was standing at the nurses' station, busy refreshing his page over and over again. His cases were completely messed up, he'd been assigned residents who weren't there, and all in all, he just didn't have the head for it. His heart rate was already far too high, his chest tight with far too many emotions he couldn't process. He hadn't slept much, again. But it wasn't the kind of insomnia that drained him, it was electric. His brain kept replaying the night with Claire like a broken record, looping back to her smile, her breath, the quiet weight of her fingers against his chest as she'd finally let herself exhale beside him. He should've been tired. He'd hoped that when he got to bed he'd go straight to sleep, after everything that had happened - the earthquake that was still in his bones, the unforgettable night that had changed everything, and the conversation with Audrey that he just couldn't get out of his head - he'd assumed his body would take advantage of any time off. But it hadn't. He had lain down in bed and had to restrain himself from contacting Claire again. She had been out with Morgan and he didn't want to draw attention to himself or ruin her evening, but he would have given anything to have her with him again. His pillows still smelled faintly of her and that was the reason why, after tossing and turning for ages, he had finally fallen asleep with a stupid smile on his face. So he should have been tired today, exhausted. But he was wide awake. He just couldn't get the conversation out of his head. Richard Lane. The name alone made Neil’s jaw tighten. Neil had spent years trying to grow away from who he’d been back then. The idea of ​​him walking these halls, overseeing this team, judging his every move? Neil took a sip of coffee, tried to anchor himself. It was bitter. He didn't care. He should‘ve been focused. He was the attending. He had rounds. A patient meeting, he had to talk to Glassman, he had to pretend that none of this bothered him. He had Claire walking around the hospital like they hadn’t … God. He closed his eyes for half a second, and there she was; the shape of her laugh in his memory, the curve of her back as she’d pulled her shirt on the morning after, quietly, like she wasn’t sure how to be normal with him now. And he had no idea either. All he knew was that something had shifted. Something that wasn’t going to fit neatly back into professionalism or pretend distance. And he didn't want that anymore. Claire had looked at him differently now, when she had lain with him that night, under cover of night. Smiling, with that twinkle in her eyes that he had been sure belonged only to him. The small dimples on her red cheeks; it was a sight he could get used to, but didn't want to. Because this sight gave him warmth, butterflies in his stomach, a feeling he had missed for ages. And for all his poise and quiet control, Neil felt like he was fifteen again, trying not to stare, trying not to fall too hard too fast when it was already too late. He straightened instinctively, pushing it all down. Compartmentalize. That was what he was good at. But inside, there was a storm. Too much hope. Hope that this one time it would work, that they would be stronger than everything that would stand in their way. That she would never lose that smile again. Too much history. History with a man he'd once looked up to, who'd swept the ground from under his feet. Or maybe it actually was him who'd helped Neil stand, who'd helped him get to where he was now; he couldn't even say it anymore. He'd hidden from this part of his past for so long that it was all just a gray fog in his head. Too many things coming at him all at once, and all of it circling the two people he couldn't stop thinking about; one he had fallen for in so many ways already, and the other he might never forgive.

 

"Hey." Neil looked up immediately when he heard her voice, his eyebrows furrowed. "Have you looked at the papers I gave you?" Audrey stopped a little away from him, her hands on her hips. Neil nodded, his gaze landing on his tablet again.

 

"Yes, already signed, they're in your office. Thanks." Audrey nodded, but could probably sense his reluctance, as her eyebrow twitched briefly. Neil didn't want to be ungrateful - the accommodation she'd found for Gaby was perfect, at least compared to the others in the area. It would probably be a problem that Gaby would be over an hour away, as he simply couldn't afford to drive that far often. He hardly ever had days off, and when he did have a day off, he was always prepared for the possibility of being paged at any time, even if he wasn't on call. That was the way it was; his job was his life. The accommodation she used to lived in until the earthquake, had been only twenty minutes from his apartment; he had attached importance to this when looking for a place for her to stay. Of course, he couldn't have been picky, and he'd rather Gaby be happy where she was than have her be close by. As much as he loved her, he couldn't fool himself into thinking he could give her the attention she deserved. So, last night, he'd gone through the documents and done a little research himself, and in the end, he'd just signed it - he trusted Audrey, and she knew what was best in most cases. Well, at least in most cases. He wrinkled his nose, still feeling her gaze on the back of his neck. "Say, do you know what's going on with the program? It says here that I'm with Park today?" he asked, handing her the tablet. She didn't take it; instead, she crossed her arms, a small smile twitching at the corners of her mouth.

 

"Well, you are." Neil raised an eyebrow. "He came into my office this morning and told me he was ready to be back." Neil paused. Not that he wasn't happy that Alex was back, but he hadn't expected him to show up so soon. If he was honest, he hadn't expected him to come back at all. He'd seen it several times before; when one of his colleagues had reached their limits, a point from which they couldn't return. And each time, they had the same look in their eyes, the same one Alex had had.

 

"Well, that's good," he said, somewhat hesitantly, and Audrey nodded.

 

"Yeah, but he looks like shit. I was hoping you could keep an eye on him to see if he is really ready to be back." Neil nodded, it probably wasn‘t a bad idea. After this change of heart, they shouldn't get too cocky. Audrey sighed, and their eyes met. It wasn't often that Neil wasn't comfortable around her, but there was a tension in the air that suggested something had been building up between them that he wasn't sure he was ready to face. Audrey seemed to see right through him, because her features softened a little. "Fancy a drink later? You should still hold back a bit, … but the beer's on me." Neil hesitated. Not because he didn't want to talk to Audrey, but because he simply couldn't. He knew about the tricks she had up her sleeve. She'd known him for so long, it certainly wouldn't be difficult for her to get what he was trying to hide out of him. And there was much of that at the moment - the thing with Claire and the thing with Lane. He didn't even know which would be the worst if it came to light, but he didn't necessarily want to find out either. Neil sighed and looked into her eyes. Something in his stomach twisted - maybe it was the guilt, maybe it was overthinking in general. But Audrey meant well, she always did. She'd given him a chance to explain himself, but he hadn't given her a reason to change her mind, or at least not a good enough one. Could he really punish her for that?

 

"Fine. Let me know when you're ready." Audrey nodded gently, giving no real reaction except a brief twitch of the corner of her mouth before she disappeared. It was better not to stand up to Audrey and draw attention to himself. He didn't plan on getting drunk; in his condition, he probably shouldn't. That way, there was no chance of giving himself away. His fingers closed around the bridge of his nose and for a brief moment, he closed his eyes. How could his life have become so complicated in such a short period of time? In both the best possible way and in a way that took his breath away. Not long ago, everything was as usual - he'd been sitting in his office late into the night or standing in the OR, doing his job. He'd come to terms with the fact that maybe this was all he'd ever be, that the life he'd imagined had slipped so far out of reach that it was more like a fantasy than a possibility. And it had been fine, uncomplicated. But he hadn't been happy. He'd been fine, but happy ... happy was something he had learned to live without. The relationship with Audrey had at least given him the feeling of something similar, of something that made being easier, something that gave him more meaning in life than just work. But he hadn't been happy. The last time he'd been truly carefree was when he had Jessica, had a future. It had been so easy to fit into this life they'd built together - an outstanding surgeon, sure, but also the partner of a beautiful woman with whom everything had seemed so granted. As if he simply belonged there, by her side. But he hadn't, and this happiness he'd felt seemed to have been only an illusion. She was becoming a woman who no longer fit the image they'd drawn together, and this life he'd imagined with her had been nothing but wishful thinking. And the happiness he'd felt was only temporary and perhaps just something he'd imagined. When he thought about the last time he'd been truly happy, without rose-colored glasses that seemed to change everything, but with a clarity that could have ruined even the most beautiful moment, he didn't even have to think back that far. Happiness had been simple, and it hadn't involved a surgery or countless hours at the office. It was the moment when Claire had looked at him, as if he'd done everything right in his life. As if nothing else mattered but this moment with her, and maybe that was true. Maybe he should’ve tried to stop overthinking things; maybe then he'd actually be happy, happy and real. Maybe things with Richard Lane wouldn't be as bad as he expected. Neil had grown, maybe he had too. So many things had changed, and it was certainly no different for Lane. Maybe they could just be normal colleagues, like everyone else. Neil shook his head as he went to the residents' lounge. He wouldn't know until the beginning of next week anyway, and he couldn't change it anymore, so he had to learn to deal with it and focus on the good things in his life. Like Claire, for example. Claire, whom he suddenly saw at the other end of the hall before she disappeared into the storeroom. Neil raised an eyebrow, considering how to handle the situation. The correct response would have been to simply continue on his way, act professional, and greet her casually when they saw each other. If only it weren't for this attraction that made rational thought almost impossible. With his mouth already curled into a small smile, his heart beating a little too fast, and thoughts he definitely shouldn't be having at work, Neil's steps automatically slowed as he approached the storeroom, his gaze discreetly flickering down the hallway to see if anyone was watching. When that didn‘t seemed to be the case, he paused in the doorway and peered in, seeing Claire rummaging through the shelves. Her hair a little damp from the rain, her brows slightly furrowed, her movements a little too hectic.

 

"Dr. Browne," he greeted her in a relatively neutral tone. Claire's gaze lifted and met his through the shelves before she returned her eyes to the cabinet in front of her.

 

"Dr. Melendez." Neil wrinkled his nose, noticing the warm undertone in her voice that had crept out despite her best efforts. He leaned against the doorframe, his hands shoved in his pockets.

 

"A little late today?" he asked sarcastically, immediately noticing the almost subtle twitch of her eyebrow. "Guess it had been a long night." The corners of her mouth twitched slightly upward, but her hands remained focused.

 

"Just late to be early," she countered, and Neil grinned before taking a step toward her. This made her look up from the shelf, waiting. Neil wasn't about to cross any boundaries and decided to leave the door open; it would certainly be less conspicuous than closing it behind him. Still, Claire didn't seem to trust his intentions as he took another step toward her. "If this is just about making out in the storage room, I should warn you. I have standards." Neil raised an amused eyebrow and stopped next to one of the shelves, close enough to notice every movement of her face, but not close enough to be inappropriate.

 

"Do you now?" Her body immediately tensed, her movements became somewhat stiff, and Neil couldn't help but chuckle smugly, even though she still didn't turn around, instead keeping her gaze forward.

 

"Mh-hm. Top tier. Very exclusive." She gave him a quick glance over her shoulder, just long enough for him to notice the sparkle in her eyes. "You barely made the cut." Neil snorted, taking a step closer to her.

 

"A woman with taste, I like that." And another step. But that one had probably been too much, because the air between them had suddenly become charged and electric again, so much so that Neil sucked in a sharp breath. It was as if he were already completely powerless again; the need to be close to her seemed to completely shut down his mind, his limbs no longer seemed to be part of his body. Another step and he was standing next to her. She didn't look up, but he could sense her watching him in the corner of her eye. His hand moved to her lower back, feeling the warmth of her body even through her scrubs, and he smiled contentedly, having already missed the feel of her skin beneath his fingertips.

 

"What are you doing?" Claire asked quietly and cautiously, as if afraid someone might hear her. "Someone might see," she added, her movements frozen, her gaze fixed stubbornly forward toward the door. Neil shrugged.

 

"See what? That I help you find ..." Claire gave him a quick glance before sighing.

 

"Pressure bandages." Neil chuckled and reached past her.

 

"Pressure bandages." She said nothing for a moment, the silence prickling their skin. Then she turned and met his gaze, as if by reflex. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

 

"Thanks." He should've taken a step back, made it less obvious how close he was, but of course, he didn't. Instead, he stood in front of her, a half-step closer than polite or appropriate, close enough that he could feel the suggestion of her body, not the contact. The warmth that radiated from her body, not that of her touch. Not yet. The air between them was thin. There it was again, that pull. Not magnetic, not even that simple. It was chemical, cellular, coded into the space between them. A kind of gravity that had no name, but this. His hand found her hip, just a light touch, almost not even that, just his fingertips on the material of her shirt. Claire didn't look away, she never did. It was maddening. The small smile at the corner of her mouth almost attracted him even more. And her knee moved, just a little, touching him. His skin burned where hers had grazed him and he swallowed hard. Suddenly, it seemed like there was only them again, no rules, no hospital, no protocol. He watched her eyes flicker, to his lips, to his chest, to that place just below his collarbone she'd kissed before telling him they needed to get up, to go to work, to be professional again.

 

"You're welcome," he murmured with a slight smirk, but his husky voice betrayed how much he was struggling with himself. She pressed her lips together as if she didn't trust them, as if she expected them to say something that would've been the last straw. Or expected them to find his and press against them, as he so longed for. Her hands wrapped around the pressure bandages he had just handed her, but he had nothing to distract his hands - his hand reached out to her, pushed a damp strand of hair away from her face and behind her ears. A soft breath escaped her lips, warm and needy. And that was all it had taken. He leaned forward, his lips finding their way naturally to the soft skin of her neck. He pressed them gently against it, feeling her rapid pulse before placing another kiss a little further down.

 

"How was last night?" he asked, barely controlling his voice. He couldn't think straight himself as he was busy taking a small part of Claire, kissing her neck as if they couldn't have been caught at any moment, and as if he had every right to, to hear her breath catch and notice how her body responded to his touch. It was crazy, he should be in control. He always was in control. But Claire ... Claire made him forget what control even felt like.

 

"It was nice," she murmured, clearly trying to keep her voice under control. "But we got pretty drunk. I don't want to know how far Morgan went after I left." Neil snorted amusedly against her neck, sending goosebumps rippling down her body. Her hand gently pressed against his chest, perhaps to push him away, perhaps not; the pressure behind it wasn't strong enough to deter him. Especially not when a soft sigh escaped her lips. He didn't know what it was - this sneaking around was exactly what he hadn't wanted, because it was dangerous; they could get caught at any moment. And the consequences were something he didn't want for Claire or himself. And yet, perhaps that was exactly what made it so tempting at that moment. Yes, it was reckless, playing with fire, but that's what it always had been with her, and if he was honest, he probably couldn't hold back, even if he'd wanted to. "Oh, and Shaun's back, apparently. I don't know what to make of that yet." That made Neil look up, and he pulled away enough to meet her eyes.

 

"Shaun's back?" His voice was a little too low for this topic, but it was probably better to regain control of his body while he still had the chance. Claire's slightly disappointed expression didn't necessarily make it any easier for him. She nodded slightly.

 

"Yeah, I just spoke to him. He seems to be fine, that's the main thing. But ..." Neil frowned slightly.

 

"Interesting." Claire gave him a questioning look, and he shrugged.

 

"Park's back too. I'm working with him today. Well ..." For a brief moment, a flash of joy crossed her face, followed by confusion. She pressed her lips together and made a humming noise that made Neil chuckle.

 

"Interesting," Claire confirmed, and Neil couldn't help but laugh softly. At the same moment, they heard a few footsteps outside, and Neil involuntarily took a step back. Neither of them spoke as they waited for the footsteps to stop. Adrenaline raced through Neil's veins; as much as he hated himself for it, he loved the feeling.

 

"I'll see you later, Dr. Browne." Claire nodded again, a slight smile on her lips, before he turned around and left her in the storage room; a little fuzzy and a little dancing on the blade.

 

****

 

Neil was having more trouble than usual maintaining his controlled facade, the small smile still on his lips, his heart still beating treacherously fast, as he walked into the residents' lounge. He paused for a moment as he looked at the familiar faces. Morgan looked like the evening Claire had described, and she wasn't exactly making a secret of it - her hair barely tied back in a messy bun, her brow furrowed as if she were trying to hide a bad headache, and dark circles under her eyes that suggested she'd gotten even less sleep than Neil. Alex looked just as 'like shit,' as Audrey had already suggested. Even though he still looked like death itself, Neil felt different around him than the last time he'd seen him; he didn't seem as lost. And then there was Shaun, who, well, looked the same as always. A small smile played on Neil's lips as he saw them gathered there; even though they had often gotten on his last nerve, after experiences like the one at the brewery, he was grateful to see them all safely in front of him.

"Good to have you all back," he said accordingly, albeit with a more sarcastic tone than he had intended - he couldn't help it. The others grumbled an indistinct hello as Neil grabbed the file that was already lying on the table. "So, what do we have?" Shaun took a step aside, revealing the whiteboard, which was already completely covered in text. Neil paused, but didn't let it show.

 

"Eric Mendoza, 37, male, brought in after collapsing at a bus stop, visibly intoxicated. Minor head injury after the fall," Alex murmured as he stood up and joined him at the whiteboard. He pointed to the results and the scans they had already performed.

 

"His blood alcohol level was 0.18. That's high, but not high enough to explain his level of disorientation. He thought it was 2012," said Shaun, immediately looking at Neil as if he should already know the answer. Morgan shook her head absentmindedly.

 

"Could be Wernicke's. He's malnourished, thiamine deficient - classic alcoholic brain fog." Her voice was sharp, and perhaps that was what made Alex groan. He held a sheet of paper up to her face, his eyebrows furrowed.

 

"Except he's got elevated creatinine and low sodium. I'd buy dehydration, but that doesn't explain the sluggish reflexes or the tremor in his right hand." Morgan rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, but said nothing. Neil sensed the tension in the room even before he spoke - something was in the air. Shaun, however, didn't seem to notice.

 

"He also has lithium in his system. Subtherapeutic, but present." Neil frowned and flipped through the file to see if he'd missed anything.

 

"Wait - lithium? Was that prescribed or self-administered?" There was no sign of this in the files, but they were apparently not up to date. He pressed his lips tightly together as Park took a step toward him and shrugged.

 

"No active prescription. Maybe leftovers. Maybe something worse." Morgan snorted, a smile playing on her lips, not a genuine one, but a dismissive one.

 

"He's mixing alcohol and psych meds. Not exactly a cocktail of sound judgment." Her voice was still sharp, earning her another glare from Alex, who shook his head.

 

"One of the officers said Eric insisted he saved someone. Didn't get specific. So maybe we should save those kind of comments for now." They exchanged a glance, and Neil was glad that looks couldn't kill, he would now have two fewer residents. It wasn't unusual for Alex and Morgan to clash, but it was rarely so bad that even the air between them seemed to burn. Neil tilted his head, but before he could say anything, Shaun took a step forward and interlaced his fingers, his gaze never leaving the whiteboard.

 

"He had a piece of duct tape stuck to his coat. And dirt under his fingernails. Different from the dirt on his shoes." Morgan raised an eyebrow.

 

"Maybe he broke into somewhere?" There was silence between them for a moment as each drew their own conclusions. Something about this case still didn't make sense.

 

"Or helped someone out," Neil said, more to himself than to the others. Shaun turned to him anyway and gave him an unreadable look.

 

"He kept saying she was crying. Over and over. Repeated phrases can be linked to delirium, but maybe he wasn't hallucinating. Maybe he was remembering." Alex snorted and crossed his arms before meeting Neil's gaze.

 

"Look, whatever the guy did, if he was that drunk, can we really say he's responsible for what he did? His judgment was impaired." Morgan gave a humorless laugh before shaking her head.

 

"That doesn't mean there's no accountability, Mr. Officer." Alex gave her another look, his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw tense. For a moment, he just stared at her, the emotion in his eyes unreadable. But then he turned away again.

 

"I'm just saying, it's not black and white. People mess up when they're drunk. Doesn't mean they wanted to." Neil noticed the sideways glance Alex gave Morgan, and suddenly the puzzle came together in his head.

 

"Just because he regrets it once he's sober doesn't mean it didn't happen and that he isn't responsible for it." Shaun tilted his head.

 

"But the patient isn't sober. He's still impaired. The decision would've been affected." Neil swallowed the smile that tried to creep onto his lips and shook his head barely noticeably before Morgan rolled her eyes again.

 

"Right. They just happened to end up somewhere they shouldn't have. Must be nice to pretend like that makes it okay." Neil watched her for a moment before frowning.

 

"You two seem to have strong feelings about this one," he stated with a smug tone, achieving the reaction he'd hoped for. Morgan stiffened, and Alex cleared his throat.

 

"Just saying, it's complicated. People make bad choices when they're not fully themselves." Morgan nodded, her gaze venomous and cold.

 

"And some people try to pretend the morning after that it wasn't a choice. That it didn't mean anything." That landed hard between them, freezing the entire room. Neil didn't know what had happened between them to cause the situation to escalate so much, but he knew the type of situation all too well himself.

 

"Enough. Let's focus on the patient. We need to figure out exactly what happened, how much of what Eric said is true." Morgan gave him a look that suggested she was about to argue, but Neil silenced her with a simple hand gesture before turning away with a sigh. Drama was the last thing he needed, so he tried to focus on his patient. But a moment later, the door swung open, and Claire bursted in, her eyebrows furrowed, her jaw tense - this couldn't mean anything good.

 

“Maya’s deteriorating,” she said, her voice sharp. “Her potassium levels dropped again. If we don’t act now, she could go into cardiac arrest.” Neil breathed a slow sigh, threw the file on the table, and crossed his arms. When he arrived at the hospital that morning, he had already reviewed the latest results himself and discussed them with the other Attendings. Part of him had hoped that Claire wouldn’t bother with this case for the time being. He had a feeling how she would take it.

 

“I know. But we can’t override her mother’s decision unless Maya is actively crashing.” Claire also crossed her arms, not for comfort, but out of frustration.

 

“So we just wait for her to collapse? That’s your plan?” Her voice was sharp, and Neil felt the others’ gazes on his skin. For a moment, he considered how he wanted to handle the situation, then he nodded in Claire’s direction once.

 

“It’s not my plan. That’s the law.” She let out a sharp breath and shook her head, taking another step toward him so Neil could see the angry gleam in her eyes.

 

“Her mother doesn’t believe she’s sick. She thinks Maya is just ‘stressed.’ We should be pushing harder for a psych hold.” Neil glanced at the others. Morgan and Alex immediately averted their gaze, but Shaun continued to stare at him pointedly. Neil sighed heavily as he caught Claire’s eye again.

 

“We don’t have enough to justify it yet,” he countered. “The best chance we have is getting her mother on board. If we fight her too aggressively, she could pull Maya out of the hospital entirely.”

 

“And you think sitting back and hoping she comes around is a better strategy?” Neil gave her a warm look, the last hope that they could resolve the conflict without her completely blowing up, but she just rolled her eyes.

 

"I think rushing into a legal battle without exhausting our options is reckless." He could see it in her face, the brief flash of pain and something she was hiding even deeper. She shook her head and closed her eyes to compose herself, or not let him see too deeply - he couldn't tell. A heavy sigh escaped her lips.

 

“If it were your daughter, would you still be this careful?” Neil suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Claire was hyper-focused again; it had to get personal, it always did with her sooner or later. That was a part of her he admired so much, because she cared more about her patients than anyone else. But it was hard to break through and talk to her sensibly when she was like that.

 

“We're not talking about that right now,” he tried again, his voice calm, even though he could feel the blood boiling in his veins. It was difficult for him to draw the line in that moment, the only line that had actually made sense between them - the line between the Claire he'd held in his arms, whose heartbeat he'd felt beneath his fingertips, who'd looked at him as if he were the only thing that mattered to her, and the Claire he was working with, the one who still had to learn, the one who threw herself into such fates until it destroyed her.

 

“No, we are talking about letting a child die because we’re too afraid to make waves,” Claire shot back. Neil’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

 

“We’re not letting her die, Claire. But we have to do this right.” His voice was soft and warm, but he had heard the sharp undertone in it himself. Claire shook her head, lips pressed together.

 

“She doesn’t have time for us to play it safe.” Neil studied her for a moment, knowing what she wanted to hear, but knowing it couldn’t be what he needed to say. Part of him wished he could have this conversation privately, hoping to bring it up to her in a calmer moment, when perhaps she would be more understanding of the situation. But he was also aware that he had to keep these two sides separate, preferably as strictly as possible.

 

“No, but this is still how we’ll do it.” Claire pressed her lips tightly together, her hands clenched into fists, and the way she looked at him let Neil know how strongly she disagreed. He could see it working behind her eyes; judging by her expression, there was already something sharp on her lips. But she shook her head and turned away.

 

"That's so stupid!" The moment the words left her mouth, she flinched, and Neil's blood ran cold. He felt the others' gazes, the shock on their faces, the anger boiling inside him like a rapidly brewing storm. Her eyes met his, and he could see that she immediately regretted saying that, knowing she wasn't in a position to speak to him like that, especially not in front of the others who seemed to be thinking exactly the same thing. It was Claire, and he probably wouldn't have even held it against her, but perhaps that was the problem. With all the stress of the last few days, with all the changes, it was hard for him to see clearly, his vision blurred. They didn't say anything for a moment, but the air between them was heavy and burned on their skin, anything but pleasant.

 

"No, it's not. It's the right course of action. It would be stupid not to follow the hospital's rules and regulations. You're wrong, Claire," Shaun interjected, unconcerned by the tension in the room. Neil let the words sink in for a moment, his gaze still fixed on Claire, who had now regained control of her features and seemed only to be waiting for what he had to say. He glanced briefly in Shaun's direction, not really seeing anything, and exhaled softly but heavily through his nose.

 

"I thank you both for your professional input. But for now, I continue to make the decisions here, and if either of you has a problem with that, I suggest we continue that conversation in my office." His voice was cold and distant, but his gaze was still firmly locked with Claire's. She said nothing, even though it obviously seemed difficult for her. But then she gave a barely perceptible nod before turning and leaving the room. She took away all the air of the room, and Neil watched her go for a moment longer than necessary before exhaling heavily. He hated how torn he felt, trapped between his role as Attending and what he was to Claire, but this was what they'd gotten themselves into. They'd known that from the beginning. Shaking his head, he met the gaze of the others, who were still staring at him with wide eyes, as if expecting another comment from him.

 

"I still haven't heard any progress on Mr. Mendoza. Is anyone interested in changing that?"

 

---

 

Notes:

I'm interested in who you all agree with. Claire obviously has the right intentions but Neil couldn't let it slide, could he?
Well. Don't worry. Nothing a good talk couldn't fix 😅

Chapter 10: When half of your heart has yet to come home

Notes:

So, I do had alot of fun with this chapter, even tho Claire and Neil realize what they were getting into, when they decided to take that step.
I hope you'll have fun as well :)

 

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Claire slumped down on the cafeteria chair and sighed heavily. The table in front of her was empty; she didn't feel like eating, but she didn't know where else to go. Her teeth were grinding together, her leg bouncing. She knew she was wrong, at least in the way she'd expressed herself. Her emotions had once again taken over and put her in a situation she didn't know how to handle. Because, at the core, she was right, and she couldn't understand why Neil had turned a blind eye to it. Protocol was one thing, but he'd turned a blind eye before when there was a good reason - even if it was just to help a dying teenage girl get her prom. He had his heart in the right place and knew when morals were more important than strictly adhering to all the rules. So she just couldn't understand why it wasn't the case this time. Had he deliberately not taken her side so the others wouldn't become suspicious again? That wouldn't explain why he was risking Maya's life, though. Something didn't make sense. It was frustrating; these cases always were. Claire wasn't at the point in her career where she could make such decisions herself, and so she had no choice but to accept Neil's decision, even though everything inside her rebelled against it. She could, of course, try to talk to him about it privately, but she wasn't sure if that was the right course of action. Perhaps she should also try to speak to Dr. Lim directly; if she stood up for Maya in front of her, maybe she would put more effort into it. But Claire knew how Neil would take it if he found out about that, and she didn't want to deal with that. She shook her head, hated being powerless. Again. Not being able to stand up for this girl who so clearly needed help, but being denied it by the person who she needed the most. Claire's eyebrows furrowed, her throat went dry. She thought of the lavender dress, of her own mother's humming. Of the way she would drift between brilliance and chaos. She had loved her mother's beautiful moments so much, she'd spent her whole childhood trying to get them back. Claire was aware that this wasn't her mother and she wasn't Maya either, but it was incredibly difficult for her to separate the two. How could she? She saw her own behavior in Maya's, the same expression she had seen so often in her own reflection. Maya's body was crying out for help, but her mother wasn't interested enough to listen. Or maybe she simply didn't want to. How could it be Claire's job to look the other way, just because the law wanted it that way? A law that wasn't designed for the powerless anyway. The system was full of gaps, it always had been. How many more Mayas had to walk through the hospital doors before the system decided they were worth saving early? Before someone in charge stopped waiting for children to become sick enough to intervene? Maya was already sick - that much was obvious. The way she sat on the edge of bed, trying to take up as little space as possible. The way her sleeves clung to the outlines of her arms, the way her voice had trembled, when her mother had asked her something. She didn’t starve herself into invisibility because everything was fine. She didn’t disappear piece by piece unless something inside her was already breaking. And yet, legally, Claire’s hands had been tied. Morally, she was already in too deep. Maya’s mother had sat across from her, smiling too much, sipping her coffee like this was all just a phase her daughter would outgrow. Like one day Maya would wake up, eat a pancake, and everything would magically fix itself. She hadn’t seen it. Or maybe she hadn’t wanted to. And Claire had been expected to pretend that was okay, expected to wait until Maya’s heart gave out or she collapsed at school again before she could step in and say; enough. She hadn’t become a doctor to stand by and watch, she’d become one to fight. To heal. Not to be forced into silence by red tape and consent forms. How was it that the law protected a mother who wouldn’t even protect her own child, but not the girl silently begging for help with every brittle, exhausted glance? It had felt like a special kind of cruelty, to know exactly how to help someone and still be forced to walk away. She remembered what it was like to be the girl whose pain went unnoticed. The girl who kept shrinking until someone finally asked the right question, and even then, only because things had gotten bad enough to make people uncomfortable. Not because they cared, not because they saw her. Maya’s mother didn’t see her. And Claire … Claire saw her too much. Maybe that was why it hurt so much. Because it was never just Maya infront of her. It was every kid like her. It was the girl Claire used to be, the one no one had fought for until it was almost too late. The system told her to wait, to follow the rules. But rules didn’t carry stretchers. Rules didn’t hold dying girls upright when their mothers failed them. And if Maya fell through the cracks … Claire didn’t know how she’d forgive herself for watching it happen. She needed to be the person she once needed herself.

Claire remembered still being little, afraid and lost. She remembered having no voice at all, she remembered being overlooked. She remembered when she turned six. The door had closed behind her father like a final breath, quiet and heavy. He hadn’t slammed it, that would’ve required passion, intention. No, he had just left; slow, tired, like he never wanted to be with her anyway. And then it had been just Claire and her mother. Or more accurately, Claire with her mother, and somehow still very much alone. In the beginning, she had waited for someone to notice. A teacher. A neighbor. Someone. Anyone. But the world kept moving. Her mom started sleeping through the day or forgetting to eat, sometimes not speaking to her at all, other times sobbing uncontrollably about things Claire didn’t understand. And then came the high days, the manic ones, where her mother would stay up all night rearranging furniture or promising they’d fly to Paris someday. Claire would sit in the hallway in her pajamas, knees pulled to her chest, just waiting for the crash. Because there was always a crash. But nobody asked. Not when Claire showed up at school tired. Not when she forgot her lunch, or wore the same clothes five days in a row. She was quiet, did well. She didn’t act out. And that had been enough to keep the world from intervening. She never starved herself, but she might as well could’ve. Instead, she had learned to survive inside that silence. To make herself small, easy, agreeable. She hadn’t even realized something was wrong until much later; until the quiet inside her started to feel permanent. Like a part of her had gone missing and no one had noticed. That was what Maya reminded her of - that unbearable quiet. That smallness. That eerie ability to mask pain so well the world assumed there was none. And now Claire was the adult in the room, the one who did see it - and it still wasn’t enough. She could tell the truth until she was hoarse, write the most detailed notes of her life, but none of it would matter if Maya’s mother refused to believe it. Until Maya’s vitals gave the system permission to act, all Claire could do was wait. It wasn’t just frustrating, it was heartbreaking. To know how to help, to want to help, and be denied that chance by the same structures that had failed her once, too.

And of course she needed someone to ask for permission first. But Neil wanted to follow protocol, of course he did. Always trying to do the right thing the right way. And Claire had always respected him for it, admired it, even. But right now, it made her feel like she was screaming into a void. Like he was standing behind a line she wasn’t willing to obey this time. They’d fought about it. Not loudly, not messily, but it had still left something jagged between them. Already. She hadn’t meant to get so angry, or maybe she had. Maybe she was tired of being the one who cared too much while the rules cared too little. He knew her, he probably even suspected she would react this way, but that couldn't stop her. She'd been told over and over again that this was exactly what would put obstacles in her path, sabotage her career. But Neil had understood her, recognized it as her strength, and admired it. And now, sitting alone, she tried to rewind the argument, to find the version where she hadn’t shut down, where he might’ve actually listened. Because Neil did listen. Just not when he was scared. And she’d seen it in his eyes, that flicker of fear. Not for Maya, for her. For what this case was dragging up in her. Maybe he thought she was too close to it. Maybe he was right. But wasn’t that the point? That she was close to it - that she understood something he didn’t? Maybe if she could explain it better, slower, without being hurt by his reaction ... explain not just the risk Maya was in, but the why Claire couldn’t let it go. Why this case didn’t feel theoretical, or procedural, or hypothetical. Why it felt personal. Urgent. Familiar. Maybe if she told him about the dress, about the uncontrolled laughter in the middle of the night, the way her mother had looked at her when Claire had allowed herself to talk back … the heavy silences. Maybe if she just let him see it, not in charts or stats or legal phrasing, but in her. But the idea of that made her chest tighten. He already knew Breeze was anything but a mother, but he didn’t know how bad it actually was, because she never talked about that. What if she started talking about that and he still didn’t get it? What if she opened that door and he just … nodded, quietly, and stepped back across the line anyway? What if, after everything, she was still alone in this? Claire needed him to believe her, to believe Maya. To trust that sometimes the worst damage was the kind that didn’t show up on a monitor, at least not yet.

Claire closed her eyes for a moment and breathed out heavily, let the silence hold her; the kind that used to scare her as a kid but now felt like an old, bitter friend. It gave her the space to remember his warm words “Your commitment to your patients … it reminds me why I got into medicine. Being around you makes me a better surgeon, a better person.” He hadn’t just said it like a cliché or a well-intentioned compliment. It had come from his heart. She realized that he already understood her. And he wasn’t judging her, he stood by her. Maybe he just wasn’t ready to move the way she needed to yet. Maybe the rules still spoke louder to him than instinct. But he did believe in her. She felt it, even in the silence that followed their argument. It wasn’t coldness. It was conflict, tension, care - pulling in opposite directions. That was different from dismissal. So no, she wasn’t alone, not really. Not anymore. Maybe this was what this was all about. Maybe she just needed to learn what it meant to have someone on her side. That she didn't have to push him away, afraid of how he would react if he saw her true self. Because she was actually aware that he'd seen that for a long time, and he looked up to her not despite it, but precisely because of it. Maybe they already spoke the same language, but she hadn't managed to express herself properly. Before she could even think it through, she rolled her eyes when she saw Alex and Morgan, who had obviously been looking for her and were now on their way to her. She could already guess what they had to say to her, and even if she'd come to a similar conclusion in that moment, she wasn't particularly keen on hearing it thrown in her face again.

 

"Well, well, well. If that isn't the Queen of Emotional Stability," Morgan greeted with a cheeky grin as she sat down across from Claire. Unlike last night, Alex didn't immediately join in in Morgan's taunts, but sat silently and gave Claire a skeptical look. Claire drummed her finger on the table, her gaze forced to remain neutral. Morgan's eyes pierced her, but instead of saying anything, she simply sighed. Morgan tilted her head. "What kind of show were you pulling just now?" Claire leaned back and folded her arms across her chest.

 

"You mean telling my attending what I think is the best course of action for my patient?" she asked sarcastically, which made Morgan raise an eyebrow.

 

"No, I mean afterward. When you yelled at him like you were talking to a child." Claire frowned. She knew she hadn't acted right, but it hadn't seemed that bad. She pressed her lips together.

 

"I just ... overreacted a little," she murmured, somewhat ashamed. She was aware that both Morgan and Alex viewed her emotionality as a weakness. Alex clicked his tongue, and when Claire gave him a sideways glance, he shook his head.

 

"Overreacted? You could have been suspended for behavior like that, or at least taken off the case. Is that what you want?" Before she could answer, Morgan interrupted with a half-hearted laugh.

 

"Who would have done that? Melendez? She's got him completely wrapped around her little finger by now. No way in hell he would do that." Claire felt the pressure in the pit of her stomach, almost like guilt. And just like that, she'd given them reasons to judge her, to suspect she was sleeping her way to the top, or worse. She gritted her teeth as Morgan's gaze fell on her, a little warmer this time. "But seriously, what makes you talk to him like that? I only talk to men like that if I slept with them." Alex and Morgan exchanged a brief, barely noticeable glance, and Claire tilted her head.

 

"So you're implying that I sleep with every attending who even looks at me in some way?" Her voice was sharper than she expected, but Morgan didn't react, just shrugging slightly, as if that were the only possible conclusion anyway. Alex frowned.

 

"No, but that was still stupid," he said dismissively before shaking his head. "You're being unnecessarily childish. How do you expect him to react?" Claire leaned on the table, her hands clenched into fists as if by reflex.

 

"What do you expect me to do? To just accept that he's making the wrong decision for my patient?" He laughed a humorless laugh and ran a hand through his hair before his gaze pierced her again, examining her as if she should know the answer herself.

 

"No. You do have a say in that. Have a voice. You just have to learn how to use it properly." His voice was a little softer than before, but still with a sharp edge. "Instead, you scream and stomp like a child who's upset that no one will listen to it. You just have to make him do it." Morgan's gaze landed on Alex, her eyebrow raised. For a moment, she simply studied him before snorting.

 

"What would you know about playing the system? You always tuck your tail between your legs when there's even the slightest hint of consequences." Alex's eyes flicked over to her, his jaw tensed, but before he spoke, he sighed and focused back on Claire.

 

"Back in Phoenix, when I was still a rookie, I was the only Asian guy on my squad. People assumed I didn't belong before I even opened my mouth. I had to work twice as hard to get the same respect." He gave Claire a meaningful look, and she understood immediately. It had been similar for her when she started medical school. Even now, she struggled with such problems to varying degrees. "So, yes, I learned how to talk so that people would listen to me. Not just when they wanted to." Claire nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. She knew he was right, knew she had behaved exactly as expected - like a beginner. But she wasn't that anymore; she wasn't weak anymore, no longer intimidated, perhaps still just as desperate, yes, but Alex was right - she had a voice now, and she had the opportunity to be Maya's voice too. She just had to know what to say with it.

 

"Yeah …" she murmured, already thinking about Neil and how to talk to him to use the situation to her advantage.

 

"Claire …" Alex began again, making her look up. "I mean it. Get over it." His words were harsh, but he spoke them warmly and understandingly, and she nodded, a small smile on her face. She didn't feel attacked; she felt at least understood in some way. Morgan shrugged again.

 

"Yeah, and besides, haven't you told me you wanted to become a social worker anyway? Getting there," she said sarcastically, earning a dark look from Claire. But it disappeared after a short while, replaced by a slight smirk. Claire knew they were both right. She'd probably known that all along, and perhaps she wouldn't have let the whole thing get to her so much if she hadn't been in therapy that morning. Whatever it was, she knew she had to rise above it and take responsibility for what she'd done, and maybe then new solutions would emerge.

After they'd discussed the sensitive issues, things calmed down between the three of them, but something felt different than it had been the evening before. The lightness was gone, sure, and they weren't drunk anymore, but there was something else, a change that Claire couldn't explain and that had nothing to do with her. Alex wasn't as depressed as before, even though she could still see the shadow in his eyes. But today it was easier for him to hide it, and maybe that was a good sign. Maybe it meant he'd reconsider and would remain part of the hospital even after his residency. Claire would want that, but she would also want him to be able to spend more time with his son again. Alex always blossomed when Kellan visited. Even though it was obvious their relationship was strained, the love between them was palpable, even though they normally lived so far apart. Claire let her gaze wander to Morgan. There was something in her eyes too that she couldn't quite interpret, even though she skillfully hid it behind her sharp comments and cheeky glances. Maybe Morgan understood her more than she wanted to admit; after all, she'd been in a relatively similar situation with her friend Melanie. Maybe it was getting to her; she'd drowned her sorrows in alcohol last night, but Claire could see that it was still affecting her. Whatever it was, she didn't mention it again for the rest of her break, and so Claire didn’t either. The rest of the day wasn't particularly exciting either, even though she had planned to talk to Neil, she hadn't found the right moment. She saw him once, maybe twice; across the nurse's station, disappearing into a stairwell, always just far enough to make turning around easier than calling out. But the unease didn't go away. If anything, it settled deeper the longer she let it sit. From what she had learned from Morgan, she was having surgery with him that afternoon, so Claire assumed she wouldn't run into him then. So she'd had the whole day to decide what to say, and yet she still didn't feel ready. When she saw him walking out of the hospital that evening, her stomach sank and she almost backed out. But when she opened the door to the outside and he had already almost crossed the entire parking lot; shoulders slightly hunched, head down like he was thinking through something even now, she forgot about thinking and quickened her pace to catch up with him as quickly as possible.

 

"Dr. Melendez!" she called after him, even though it seemed strange to her. Still hospital, still professional. He turned around immediately, and when he saw her, his pace slowed a little. As she caught up with him, she could see the deep frown on his forehead and the way the muscle under his eye twitched, as if he didn't quite know what to do with the situation. "Hey," she murmured, stopping him. He didn't say anything right away, but his gaze was on her, a little more distant than usual. When he still didn't say anything after a few seconds, she nodded cautiously and cleared her throat. "I wanted to apologize. For my behavior earlier. It was unprofessional and won't happen again." An emotion flashed in Neil's eyes, perhaps almost surprise, before he gave a short nod.

 

"Claire ..." He looked past her, as if he were searching for the right words there, or as if he didn't want to look at her at all. His body was tense, and she simply stared at him, waiting for him to tell her what was on his mind. He still seemed reserved, still offended. Claire adjusted her bag and furrowed her eyebrows.

 

"Are you mad?" she asked, which made him snort. He shook his head before his eyes met hers again. There was a brief silence, charged and heavy, so heavy that Claire began to feel uncomfortable. But before she could remove herself from the situation, he sighed.

 

"You want to know why I'm mad? Because of this. This whole situation is the problem." His face twisted in a bitter frown of displeasure, but when his eyes found hers again, there was a little more warmth in it. "I can't just change my mind or my approach just because you're the one I'm talking to. I can't favor you, I can't make exceptions for you." Claire took an imperceptible step back, pressing her lips together as she tried to process his words. She hadn't expected that to be what had bothered him. Even though that thought had at least occurred to her when Morgan had once again made jokes about that in the cafeteria.

 

"Neil ... I don't want you to do that either." Their eyes met, and whatever was in his wasn't nearly as understanding as she'd expected. He seemed almost desperate as he shook his head again.

 

"I'm already doing that. If anyone else had spoken to me like that, the situation would have been very different." Claire paused, and for a moment she felt very small, unable to read his gaze. She didn't know what to say. He'd always made an effort not to favor her, and even though they'd both convinced themselves he hadn't, that he'd only agreed with her most of the time because she'd had the best ideas, there had been situations like this before. And even then, he'd taken her side, or at least tried to defend her point of view. No matter what they'd pretended to do, it had probably never been a purely professional relationship between them.

 

"Like I said, I ... I'm sorry." Neil closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled heavily through his nose. When he opened them again, his gaze was soft.

 

"It's my problem as much as it is yours," he said, a little too quietly, and involuntarily took a step toward her. "But you can't act like this. I know you have good intentions, but for one thing, you can't attack me like that in front of our colleagues." His eyebrows furrowed and he straightened. "For another, you can't disrespect me like this in general. As much as I understand, I'm still your boss and you have to listen to me, whether you like it or not." Claire pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. Deep down, she knew he was right; that had been one of the problems this whole thing between them had brought with it. But then again, it made her angry, at least in some ways. She wasn't quite sure how to separate the two versions yet. The same battle seemed to be going on behind Neil's eyes, his gaze directed skyward before he sighed. "If this happens again, I'll take you off the case," he said when their eyes met, this time with the same cold tone he always got when he was done with the subject. Before she could respond, he turned and left. Claire didn't know how to handle the situation. Yes, she had gotten a dressing down from her boss - and it was probably well deserved. But that uneasy feeling in her stomach didn't go away, the one that longed for him, for the part of him that was more than just her boss.

 

****

By the time he'd headed to the bar, he hadn't even felt like it. He felt bad in a way he knew he didn't need to. Neil had been right, he knew that, but that didn't necessarily make it any easier. In a way, he could understand Claire; if the circumstances had been different, he probably would have been on her side - he knew how much such cases affected her, not just out of empathy, but from her own experience. He didn't want to take that part of her away from her, but rather support it, yet the way she'd spoken to him hadn't been right. Yes, he'd acted right, but he hadn't wanted to act right, at least not so soon. He hadn't wanted to slip back into that role for a while, hadn't wanted to be the boss for a while. All he wanted was to be back in his bed, with her by his side, with her hands in his hair, with that outrageously beautiful smile on her face, where nothing else mattered. That was one of the countless reasons he no longer wanted to be in a relationship with coworkers - because it tore him right down the middle, because he couldn't shed his skin. He couldn't be one or the other. He was both, with all his heart and soul. It was difficult enough to have a personal life when his job was so consuming, but when those two things blurred together like that, it made it impossible to breathe. This feeling was frustrating, because he still didn't regret taking this step with Claire, even if, at that moment, it felt like a step in the wrong direction. He sighed as he opened the door to the bar he hadn't been to in a long time, a little further out of town. He wasn't entirely sure why they had chosen this place; perhaps to get as far away from the reality of the hospital as possible, perhaps it was just a coincidence. He held the door open for Audrey, as usual. She didn't thank him; she was used to it. She pushed past him. They took a quiet corner booth instead of sitting at the bar. A habit from residency, back when they'd wanted to be away from the attendings who might overhear too much. The air felt the same tonight, guarded. For a while they said nothing, and the drive here had been silent too, not unpleasantly, but in that way, where they both wondered where this evening would lead. Neil had promised himself he would be open with Audrey, but every time their eyes met, his stomach gave a little knot, reminding him that in less than forty-eight hours the man who had never fully left his conscience but whom he had hoped never to see again, would return to his life.

 

"We can just drink. No small talk required," she offered as they sat down. She leaned back easily, her gaze on him, not demanding, but expectant. Neil gave a short nod. He hadn't planned on doing much talking anyway. His arms lay loosely on the table, his hands clasped together, as if he were in a meeting with his boss rather than at a bar with a friend, trying to forget everything that had passed unsaid between them. The server came by. Audrey ordered for both of them, again, habit, and they settled into silence again. Neil couldn't remember the last time he had felt so alienated from Audrey, not that she didn't understand him, but that he didn't feel like he could open his mouth without saying something she wasn't supposed to hear. Even though he had toyed with the idea of ​​letting at least Audrey in on the whole thing several times since the altercation with Claire in the Residents Lounge, he had dismissed the idea before they had even entered the bar. Audrey was many things to him; she meant a lot to him, was his longest and probably closest friend, and he trusted that she would be on his side. However, he still remembered the conversation in his office when she had first hinted at Claire. She had made it clear that it was a problem, even if she hadn't said it in a judgmental or warning way. And even if he did decide to talk to her about it at some point, if it were only because he needed a friend to talk to, this evening wasn't the right opportunity. He still wanted to protect Claire and make her feel safe. Wanted her to trust him, and she would probably feel like he was stabbing her in the back, if he would open up to Audrey right away. "How are you?" Audrey asked as Neil sipped his beer, and he chuckled slightly, as that immediately nipped the no small talk rule in the bud. But he was glad of it; the silence gave him too much time for unnecessary thought, and that was the last thing he wanted that evening. He gave a barely perceptible shrug.

 

"Never been better." Audrey snorted before shaking her head with a chuckle. She was probably wondering why she'd even asked, since the answer was usually exactly the same. She danced her finger over her glass, her eyebrows slightly raised, as if she had a few words on the tip of her tongue that she wasn't quite sure whether to let out or not. When she raised her eyes, a faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

 

"Are you planning on coming to the fundraiser at the Redwood Inn?" Neil furrowed his eyebrows, letting the words hang between them for a moment. It was a perfectly normal question, but a sinking feeling still settled in the pit of his stomach. Not because he wasn't happy that the earthquake victims were being helped, but because he wasn't entirely sure whether he should visit in person. It was an irrational fear; the chances of something like this happening twice in a row were vanishingly small - his head knew that, but his body didn't seem to understand it yet, because everything in him rebelled against going there.

 

"I'm a surgeon, Audrey. How am I supposed to know what I'll be doing in three weeks?" he asked sarcastically, though he didn't quite manage to hide the bitter undertone in his voice. She didn't seem to notice, though, as she simply nodded with a slight smile and averted her gaze. She was silent for a moment, though he could still see that she had something to say. Her finger tapped her glass a few times before she looked back at him.

 

"I was wondering if you might want to give a little speech. As an introduction to the evening." Neil frowned when their eyes met, and he studied her intently.

 

"Why me?" Audrey watched him for a few seconds before shrugging.

 

"You love to hear yourself talk." The corners of Neil's mouth twitched upward, but then he simply leaned back in his seat. "The hospital is the main sponsor of the event, so I think it's important that one of us gives a speech. And you, well, you were right in the middle of it." Neil grimaced and kept his gaze on the bottle, which he let dance between his fingers. A sound somewhere between a hum and a grunt escaped his lips before he could stop it.

 

"Glassman's the same, and he's certainly going to have a lot less to do than I am in the near future." Audrey narrowed her eyes at him, her finger drumming restlessly on the table.

 

"Do you want to talk about it now?" she asked, a little too pointedly for her still warm expression. Neil raised his gaze, the words catching in his throat, but he couldn't suppress the annoyed groan.

 

"No, what's there to talk about? I wouldn't tell my boss how to do her job." Audrey nodded, more or less passive-aggressively, before slumping back in her seat as well. He could have simply talked to her, told her what had happened back then, but by now it was too late either way. She was unlikely to terminate an employment contract over something like that, Neil knew that. At that moment, however, a completely different question occurred to him. Audrey had already mentioned that she had spoken to Glassman. Had he also known who she had chosen as his replacement? Neil was almost certain Aaron wouldn't have allowed that; maybe he wouldn't have even quit his job then. Or maybe he would, he couldn't say for sure. But Glassman was the only one who knew about the past between Neil and Lane, and even though they had clashed sometimes, Neil counted Glassman among his closest friends. He was certain he wouldn't stab him in the back like that.

 

"Remember that bar in Koreatown we used to go to in second year?" Audrey asked suddenly, and when their eyes met, the hint of a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. Neil's brow was still furrowed, but he tilted his head.

 

"The one with the sticky tables and the guy who flirted with you every time we were there?" Audrey laughed softly before nodding.

 

"Oh yeah, right. The one we were sure wasn't even of legal age yet." Neil chuckled slightly as he thought back to how he had teased her every night when the waiter kept bringing her drinks to the table without being asked. Even then, she had been so confident that she had intimidated the boy just with her looks. He remembered that time clearly; they spent the first year of their residency at each other's throats, being something like rivals. At some point, he realized it was better to be on her side than her enemy. And by the second year, they were inseparable. Audrey shook her head and grinned, sipping her drink. "We went there three nights in a row before our boards. Had the surgery textbook out on the table, like we were trying to summon answers from it. We must have looked so desperate." Neil nodded and felt the warmth spreading in his chest as he thought back. Back then, he had thought it had been the most stressful time of his life, staying up all night to learn, always feeling like he could kill someone with every little mistake. When he thought back on it today, he realized how liberated he'd felt back then, how simple life had been.

 

"Probably. I'm still certain to this day that none of them believed we'd studied medicine. They probably thought we were just nerds with an obsession for weird knowledge." Audrey pretended to think seriously about it for a moment before shrugging and raising an eyebrow.

 

"Who are you calling a nerd?" Neil shook his head and rolled his eyes playfully.

 

"You made flashcards. Color-coded. You had a system." An emotion flitted across her face for a brief moment that Neil couldn't quite interpret, but the warm smile remained on her lips. She leaned back on the table, her arms crossed.

 

"And you made fun of the system," she replied, amused, but for a split second the tone in her voice was guarded, protective.

 

"I didn't mind the system, I just thought it was ... over the top. I thought we didn't need it." He shrugged and gave her a cheeky look. If he'd been honest, he would have told her that some days he felt like her system used to be the only thing keeping him afloat. Or maybe it was just evenings like this, where they'd sat at sticky tables sorting colored cards until the morning sun came up. She snorted.

 

"It was effective." Neil nodded slowly as he scraped the label off his bottle, focusing on it. It was easy not to reveal so much about himself that way.

 

"You quizzed me on fifteen types of abdominal incisions while I was eating wings." Audrey laughed carelessly, and Neil couldn't help but grin. It had become rare to see her so relaxed, her head thrown back, her laugh so loud that everyone else turned to look at her. He had always loved that carefree side of her and had missed it the last few month. They rarely saw each other anymore, and hardly ever outside of the hospital. If he'd been honest, he knew absolutely nothing about her private life since they broke up - there hadn't been much of one since she'd taken the job.

 

"And you got them all right." Neil rolled his eyes with a grin.

 

"Of course I got them all right; I was in my second year of residency. If I hadn't even known that, I think I could’ve packed my stuff long ago." Audrey's laughter slowly died down, and she nodded before exhaling a long breath, almost melancholically, as she always did when thinking back to a pleasant memory. Then she raised her gaze again, the twinkle in her eyes and the twitch in the corner of her mouth already making Neil smile.

 

"Well, the system has proven itself. I'm the chief now." Neil bit back his grin and nodded slowly as he put down his bottle.

 

"You are," he murmured, and then silence fell over them. It wasn't as uncomfortable as before, and so Audrey had probably achieved exactly what she'd intended. She had this talent for steering the conversation in other directions without him noticing. And he didn't even resent it, he never did, especially not tonight; the weight on his shoulders was at least a little lighter.

 

"We didn't know what we were doing yet. But we looked like we did … at least a little." Neil watched her for a long moment, their eyes meeting, and something in his stomach tightened. A feeling he already knew, but still couldn't interpret.

 

"You always looked like you did," he whispered, and something in her eyes softened with his words. He could see her sitting there in his mind's eye; almost too many years ago, her hair so short it didn't even reach her shoulders, her eyes always a little too red because she hadn't yet gotten used to the sleepless nights, or maybe because the stress got to her some nights and she cried herself to sleep. That smug smile, as if she'd already known that she was better than most people back then, and she probably had, and those stupid colorful comic book shirts that she now only wore to sleep, but had never left the house without before. Now many years had passed, the dark circles under her eyes were darker, the little laugh lines deeper in her skin, but there was the same warmth in her eyes as before everything that had happened between them. She smiled gently and nodded before sighing heavily. She shuddered and pressed her lips together.

 

"That’s because I do always know," she began, and Neil smiled, but before it could spread across his entire face, it vanished. There was something in her eyes that cooled the atmosphere between them somewhat. "And I know you're not happy with many of my decisions, but you have to trust me." Neil furrowed his eyebrows, as if he didn't yet know where the conversation would lead. "This thing with Lane isn't personal, you know that. And I don't know what happened between the two of you, but maybe it's not such a bad thing for you to face up to." Neil inhaled sharply through his nose, but before he could let it out, Audrey held up her hand, interrupting his thought process. "You're a good man, Neil. Whatever it is, how bad could it have been?" Neil gritted his teeth and shook his head.

 

"It's not about what I did," he murmured. "At least not exclusively," he added, so quietly it was almost a breath. Audrey frowned and nodded.

 

"No. But you're an adult. You can forgive too … whatever there is to forgive. I'm not forcing you to become his best friend or go for a beer with him, I'm just saying ... that you have to be able to work with him. Professionally. You should be able to do that, right?" Neil laughed a quiet, humorless laugh. Theoretically, that wasn't too much to ask, but Audrey knew almost better than anyone else how difficult it was for him, especially if he had a history with this person. Audrey had been a good friend of his for years, their working relationship always professional, their evenings at the bar always friendly. And at some point, that wasn't the case anymore. It had taken months before he was able to behave professionally towards her in the hospital again. Not to mention the whole situation with Claire, where he was constantly reminded that he had to act professionally and assumed he could. And yet ... he swallowed hard.

 

"I know it's okay, Audrey. No hard feelings." Audrey exhaled in annoyance before leaning back.

 

"Maybe it's good for you, too. You're always so wrapped up in your own head, you probably make things worse than they are." Neil nodded, but said nothing more. It was easy for her to say things like that when she didn't know what had happened between them, but Neil had already thought of it himself. Richard certainly hadn't forgotten him, but maybe he wouldn't rub it in his face. Even if the situation wasn't ideal, it wasn't anything that would kill him. The most important thing was that Richard wouldn't find out about Claire. For Neil, that meant there would be no more stolen moments like last night on the balcony or this morning in the storage room. It would certainly play into Lane's hands if he found out Neil had gotten involved in something like that, and then all hell would break loose. "Oh, and by the way. If he starts acting weird, I'll be the first to kick him out of my hospital. You know that," she finished her thought, finishing her drink in the same breath. Neil chuckled slightly.

 

"Thanks, Mom." Audrey rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress a quiet laugh.

 

"Stop making it weird," she murmured.

After that, a comfortable silence fell between them, just as it always had. It had never needed many words; the mere presence of the other had been enough. Audrey ordered the next round, and for a while they simply sat opposite each other, their gazes fixed on nothing, each lost in their own thoughts. This was exactly what Neil needed, and Audrey seemed to have a knack for it. It wasn't too long before her gaze fell on him again, thoughtful and perhaps a little concerned, her mouth slightly twisted, the way she always did when she was thinking hard. Neil didn't comment. He knew that look all too well; if he asked her about it, it would only pull her out of her thoughts, and then she wouldn't give any clear answers anyway. Instead, he looked at his phone screen, rereading the email about the fundraiser. Martha and Noreen were also mentioned by name, as victims of the disaster.

'It's terrible. We've only just fought our way back into life, and suddenly it's taken away from us again. But we won't give up. We never will, and we'll come back stronger than before. As long as we have each other, everything else is secondary.' Neil smiled quietly as he read Martha's words. The woman alone was a force of nature. He would probably go to the fundraiser, he decided in that moment. He couldn't let such things get to him; he had to keep going. If there was one thing he'd learned from the two of them, it was that there was always a way out, even if it wasn't visible. And at least he wasn't alone anymore. This thought only made him smile more.

"You fascinate me," Audrey said suddenly over the rim of her glass, and Neil raised his eyes. Raising his eyebrow, he turned his phone onto the screen side and pushed it aside a little.

 

"And why is that?" Audrey shrugged, her gaze neither intense nor dismissive. She hesitated for a moment before answering.

 

"Sometimes you smile like that, like you did just now. I just wonder what goes through your mind." Neil's throat tightened, but he tried not to let it show. Instead, he sipped from his bottle and raised his eyebrow challengingly. Audrey exhaled deeply through her nose, her expression a little more serious than before as she swirled her drink in her glass. "After the earthquake, I did a lot of thinking, probably still do." Neil tilted his head slightly. He didn't know what she was getting at; her gaze betrayed no emotion, only that something was bothering her.

 

"About what?" Audrey looked up for a brief moment, her eyes blank, but the wrinkles on her face reflected every emotion she was trying to hide.

 

"A lot of things." She hesitated. Her eyebrows furrowed, her finger nervously tapped her glass. "When I got to the brewery that evening, and everyone expected me to have everything under control, my mind was completely blank; I didn't have time to think." Neil nodded understandingly. He'd forgotten much of that night, except for the moment in the stairwell, and part of him was glad about that. Although he didn't talk about it, he'd woken up drenched in sweat several times in the following nights, but he couldn't remember the dreams he'd had. He only knew they involved death and loss. Audrey tilted her head. "But then one question kept coming back to me - when was the last time I called my mother? And not in that dramatic if something had happened to me, I would have regretted it - way. I just simply couldn't remember. It was driving me almost crazy." Neil gave her a moment's silence in case she wanted to elaborate, but she just gave a humorless laugh before shaking her head.

 

"So, when did you?" he asked after a while, and Audrey gave him a long look and rapped both hands on the table, a heavy breath forcing its way through her teeth.

 

"You know what? I still have no idea." She pressed her lips together, and Neil could see in her softening gaze that she was letting her guard down, even if only for a moment. "And that sucks. Before everything with Kashal and … the other thing ..., we spoke on the phone every day, and then we just ... didn't. I think she still resents me." She let out a breath that almost turned into a laugh, but she drowned it in her drink.

 

"Why should she still hold it against you? It was your decision and the right thing for you. Besides, it was so long ago." Audrey shrugged and said nothing for a moment. Neil frowned. Audrey had always been close to her parents, even though she and her mother had clashed a lot when she was younger. After her rebellious goth phase as teenager, they had slowly come together. Neil knew, however, that there had been some things between them that they could never fully get over. Audrey didn't talk about it often, but when they were still together, she had told him about the abortion she had had in medical school. Afterward, contact with her mother had been kept to a minimum. Audrey believed her mother wouldn't want to talk to her anymore and had developed a resentment toward her.

 

"I don't know, because she probably wanted something different for me than all that. And I can't even blame her." She sighed. Neil said nothing, but looked her up and down. Audrey rarely talked about her family, not because she didn't want to, but because she hadn't felt the need. He knew she'd been a daddy's girl, and from the one time Neil had seen her father, he could understand why. They shared the stoicism and the dry sense of humor. He had been proud of her when she began her medical studies, but had been diagnosed with cancer and passed away just a few months later. Since then, Audrey had hardly ever spoken about him.

 

"What do you think she'd want from you? Aside from the fact that you're a grown woman with nothing to prove to her." Audrey snorted and shook her head before resting it on her hand.

 

"Probably the usual. That I'd slow down and give her two or three grandchildren." She rolled her eyes theatrically. "I'm too old for this crap anyway." The lump in Neil's throat returned, and for a moment he was lost for words. He hated having these conversations with Audrey because it reminded him of transience. When they'd sat together in a bar like this in the past, they'd made fun of the people who let their families take over so much that medicine had faded into the background. Even though Neil had always known he wanted to start a family of his own, they'd always agreed that nothing would stand in the way of them and their careers. And now they'd come to this point where they'd had to make a decision. And with her, it had seemed so easy to decide against children, against having a family of her own, and Neil ... Neil hadn't been able to do that.

 

"Well … You don't even want kids, do you?" Audrey snorted before laughing a little too loudly and shaking her head.

 

"I decided against it a long time ago and would do it again every time. I don't regret it." She shrugged. "I have everything I want, everything I need, and yet ... all these stupid thoughts, they just won't leave me alone." Neil leaned forward a little and tilted his head.

 

"Then why don't you just call your mother? You always said she's the sweetest person you know. Maybe she doesn't want grandchildren at all, but just wants her daughter to call her." Audrey grimaced before her face softened. She didn't say it, but Neil could see he'd hit a raw nerve. She'd never been too vain to reach out, he was sure of that. She probably just didn't want to face the pain associated with it.

 

"That's not all. Don't you sometimes feel like you're on the completely wrong path, even though you've made all the right decisions?" Neil hesitated before answering. He often wondered why he was at the point in his life where he was, but since that night with Claire, it wasn't negative thinking. Everything suddenly made sense in a twisted way, in a way he couldn't explain. He shrugged.

 

"I think it's normal for you to think that way. Everyone does. After the earthquake, I questioned every single decision I'd made, too. I wondered if it would have been enough for me if I hadn't survived that night. You know, if it would have been a good ending." Audrey's eyes widened for a moment, her gaze fixed stubbornly on him as she tried to read his face. He saw something else in her gaze, too - pain. Pain she usually managed to hide.

 

"And?" Neil raised an eyebrow before sipping his beer.

 

"Are you kidding?" She raised an eyebrow. "Of course not, that would have been a completely unsatisfying way to go." He laughed softly, and after Audrey had gotten her features under control, she joined in. It wasn't humorous, not only that, it was crushing, perhaps a little too truthful, but it was honest. Life had been okay, but he couldn't say he was satisfied with what he'd accomplished. After his laughter died down, he smiled gently. "But I'm still here. And I'm not going to miss this opportunity." Claire's image flashed before his mind's eye, and without him being able to stop it, a heavy breath left his lips, making way for warmth radiating throughout his entire body. After his breakup with Jessica, he'd stopped thinking about the future because it simply didn't make sense to him. Even now, he wasn't thinking about what he still wanted and how future would look like; the only thing that mattered was that Claire was a part of it.

 

"Do you know what I couldn't get out of my head for the whole day afterward? After the earthquake?" she asked, a little lighter than before, her eyes sparkling briefly as she rested her head on her interlaced fingers.

 

"How good I look in that hospital gown?" he replied with a smug grin that Audrey tried not to return, but failed.

 

"Exactly that." The smile crept up to her eyes, and for a moment they remained at that ease. When she met his gaze again, the sparkle was still in her eyes, but her smile was a little more subtle. "That night, in my apartment, when you insisted we cook together." Neil had expected some things, but not that. Maybe that she wouldn't be able to forget Park's face after that evening, or the way people had screamed for help, or maybe even the way he had sat across from her in the ambulance. But he hadn't been prepared for a pleasant memory.

 

"You mean when you almost set the kitchen on fire?" he asked sarcastically, noticing the warmth returning to her gaze.

 

"We wanted to treat ourselves to something proper for a change, a three-course homemade meal. And in the end, we only had enough for a bit of pasta." Neil laughed as he thought back on that evening. It had been relatively early in their relationship and one of the rare evenings when they were both free. They had found almost no time for each other back then, which was no surprise, considering their careers. And what little time they had, they admittedly hadn't spent cooking.

 

"It was damn good pasta, though." Audrey chuckled, but her expression darkened a little, and Neil couldn't help but feel the knot in his stomach whenever she looked at him like that. It had taken a long time before they had been able to have a friendship again, and even then, it wasn't nearly as close as it once had been. There had been many reasons for that, but primarily their own protection. It had been difficult, that breakup, the lost opportunities and bitter memories that came with it – all while trying not to turn away from each other completely. They didn't meet as often alone anymore, never spent the meetings at each other's apartments, and didn't tell each other about their relationships like they used to. Sure, from Neil's perspective, there was never much to talk about. The Jessica thing had quickly lost its appeal, and during their residency together, Neil had only dated two women, but Audrey had wanted to know every last detail. Everything that had happened after their breakup was taboo, and not just because it involved Claire. He'd always felt that would have been for the best, because it had helped him, and he suspected she felt the same way. But every time she looked at him like that, he had doubts.

 

"You know, when I think back, I always wonder ... " She hesitated, and Neil felt his heart skip a beat. He prayed to God she wasn't about to confess her feelings to him right now. He wouldn't have been able to handle it anyway, but now Claire was involved, making things even more complicated. He stared at Audrey while her eyes flickered over his face, as if she were still searching for the right words. The air between them suddenly thick, time frozen. Then she leaned back and crossed her arms. "How the hell did Jessica put up with you for so long? You're a madman in the kitchen." Neil felt the breath he'd been holding leave his body, and with it all the tension. He rolled his eyes.

 

"Shut up," he muttered, but couldn't suppress the grin. Audrey raised her hands defensively, but the laugh lines around her eyes betrayed her.

 

"No, seriously. You have absolutely no right to mock my system when you act like that in the kitchen. Are you sure you weren't in the army before?" Neil also leaned back, his arms resting loosely on the table in front of him. Before he could reply, Audrey took another breath. "I was afraid of losing my hands whenever I didn't wash something long enough or left it in the oven too short." Neil laughed softly and shook his head. It hadn't been nearly as bad, in his opinion. It had been important to him to put effort into the preparations to make it a romantic dinner, while she had repeatedly gotten distracted by little things. It hadn't bothered him at the time, although even then, he had subconsciously felt that she hadn't been the right piece of the puzzle for him.

 

"In my defense, Jessica loved cooking as much as I do. I didn't have to tell her how to -" The vibration of his phone interrupted him, and as if by reflex, he reached for it, perhaps a little too hastily, perhaps a little too conspicuously. As soon as he lifted it, he could see the text message, and his heart began to race. He raised his eyebrow.

 

Claire Browne  Can I come over?

 

Nothing more, nothing less. His jaw clenched involuntarily, his head began to race as he repeated the few words over and over.

 

"Who is she?" Audrey asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. For a brief moment, he simply stared at her, then, as if by reflex, turned the phone back onto the screen, very subtly.

 

"Who's who?" His voice was neutral, but he probably couldn't say the same about his expression. He felt every muscle in his face twitch, as if it already knew Audrey would see right through him. She nodded in the direction of his hands.

 

"That's not your hospital ringtone," she said casually, her eyebrow slightly raised. "And who else texts you in the middle of the night if not a woman in distress?" Neil stared at her, perplexed, before glancing at the time. Just after midnight. He gritted his teeth.

 

"It's just an email I've been waiting for, from Dr. Deluca in Italy. Time difference and all." His voice wasn't particularly convincing, even though he'd whipped the story out quickly. Judging by Audrey's look, she didn't believe him either. She raised an eyebrow and looked at him over her glass. Neil didn't respond, but held her gaze.

 

"Well, I hope she's good for you," she said finally, looking away again. For a moment, Neil considered just letting it go, but something about it didn't sit right with him.

 

"There is no she, Audrey." Audrey nodded slowly, but Neil had known her long enough to see beyond it. He rolled his eyes. A faint smile played on her lips before she tilted her head slightly.

 

"Well, I'd be glad if it were the case. It's good if you're getting yourself out there again." Neil paused, but couldn't see anything in her gaze that wasn't sincere. Her face radiated warmth, and something about it awakened a small spark of hope in him. That maybe she would understand if he confessed about Claire. That she might even be happy for him. He couldn't take that away from Audrey - she'd always wanted the best for him, even if it hadn't seemed that way at times.

 

"Are you putting yourself out there again?" he asked cautiously. It was quite possible she already had, and he just didn't know. But the tired twitch in the corner of her mouth proved him wrong.

 

"Maybe," she answered, much to his surprise. In the few times they'd met after the breakup, she'd always joked that no man could ever keep up with her and, accordingly, there was no point in even trying. This maybe was a big step for her, not because she was afraid of commitment, but because she'd chosen work and knew exactly how difficult it was to then maintain a functioning relationship. Neil was the last person who could have said anything to that. It was not without reason that he always fell for the women at his workplace.

 

"That's good." His voice was warm, and Audrey rolled her eyes with a smile.

 

"It sucks." Neil chuckled, too, as he thought back to the message he still had open on his phone. It sucked, starting all over again, constantly butting heads where a previous partner might have overlooked. To acknowledge each other's flaws and still love them, or maybe precisely because of them. He reached for his phone and looked at the few words she'd texted him a few minutes ago. They hadn't parted on particularly good terms that evening, and it certainly wasn't the right thing to do on a professional level to just sweep it under the rug. Still, they had to learn to separate one from the other. And if he'd been honest, he couldn't imagine anything better than having her by his side again.

 

"Well, I should get going, it's getting late," he said, putting the money on the table. Audrey raised an amused eyebrow, hiding her grin behind her glass.

 

"The email can't wait, huh?"

 

---

 

Notes:

Soo, very important buisness email it is. Yeah, I wanted to focus abit on neil and audrey on this one, just because. I feel like they needed to clear the air and Neil needed to get out of his head. Obviously the problems with claire aren't solved yet, buuut let's see what 'DR. DELUCA' ;) has to say, ai?
Don't worry. Next chapter will be wholesome.

Chapter 11: The places and people we left behind

Notes:

Well, happy weekend :) This one is going to be very interesting. I got emotional while writing a certain scene, and I think you'll know why. I just love neils character so much 🥹
I hope you'll have fun. Let's start some drama as well.

 

---

 

They hadn't talked, at least not much. And Claire didn't know if that made it better or worse. She'd already been standing in front of his front door when he'd come home. When their eyes had met, the small frown next to his eyebrow was still there, but there was nothing but warmth in his eyes. As if he'd left the attending part of himself in the hospital, and so she'd done the same, had come with no defenses, no questions on her tongue, no demands, with nothing but that part of her that had longed for that very part of him. He'd let her in, and even then they hadn't talked. It was as if there had been nothing left to talk about in that moment, even Claire's mind had calmed down - as soon as the door had closed, instinct had taken over, the attraction they hadn't been allowed to pursue. And so they hadn't spoken then either, but simply given themselves to each other, almost as if it were the first time, only less reserved and exploratory. It had still been just as intense, but this time more hasty, more demanding, as if they were tired of having to pretend any longer that this wasn't what it was all about anyway. It had been even better than the time before, the fear now gone, the worry that he would see her in a different light, without what was between them disappearing with the light of day. Because it hadn't. Even after their argument a few hours ago, it had been no less real. The warmth in his eyes, the softness of his touch, the way his lips curved into a small smile when she whispered his name. It had still been real. Afterward, Claire had thought about talking to him again about her patient, perhaps this time with a different approach, perhaps without the need to explain herself. But she had immediately dismissed that thought when she had noticed how his features had softened and his body had become more relaxed. It was only when she looked at him, saw him like that, so completely content, his eyes closed, his breathing deep, that she realized how worried or strained he usually looked, and something about it made her stomach clench. It made her wonder how much was going on inside him without him showing it to others, and how much energy it took for him to hide these very things. And she was grateful that she could see him like this, warm, comfortable, the wrinkles on his face softened and lighter. There was something almost unfair about how beautiful he looked like this. The strained facade he carried through his days, through surgeries, decisions, silences, had melted into something heartbreakingly gentle. He looked so much younger, not in a good way or a bad way, but in a way that made Claire wonder when was the last time he didn't worry about something. This version of him; unguarded, resting beside her like this was where they belonged, wasn't something she'd ever dared to imagine. Not really. Not when the world kept reminding her how temporary good things could be. Not when she'd spent so long keeping her distance from softness, afraid it would disappear the moment she leaned into it. There was a vulnerability in him now, not spoken, not offered, but visible. Just this once. And it caught her breath. She didn't know what to do with it. How strange, she thought, that this was the same man; the man with the unreadable eyes and clipped voice, who had made her doubt herself with a single glance. The same eyes that had once held her at arm's length now fluttered closed beside her, as if she was safe, trusted. She remembered the first time she saw him, how composed he’d been, how closed. There was nothing soft about him then. He was a silhouette of authority, just someone she wanted to impress. Back then, she'd thought him a little cold. Unreachable. The kind of man who measured people in seconds and rarely revised his conclusions. She hadn't expected to feel anything about him, except maybe pressure. Maybe admiration from a careful distance. But this … this feeling was something else entirely.

She had spent many nights or daydreams imagining what it would be like when they finally kissed, when one of them finally took the step they had danced around for so long. She had imagined what it would be like to sleep with him, sometimes gently and lovingly, and sometimes passionately and hard. But this moment, this after, she hadn't been able to imagine it. She hadn't expected it to happen. The warmth of his arm wrapped around her waist, even long after he had fallen asleep, as if he still didn't want to let go, the way his face twitched slightly in his sleep, as if he still couldn't completely turn off his thoughts and just that. This feeling of connection. The sex was good, great even, but this moment was something she didn't yet dare understand, a feeling she didn't want to identify, but that deep down she already knew was there. That it had been there for a long time, just waiting for her to be ready to say it. This, what she felt, it wasn’t small. It wasn’t casual. It didn’t live in the space of maybe or let’s see. It was deep. Old, somehow. Like it had been waiting beneath every word, every glance, every time she’d looked away before she looked too long. Claire knew there was a name for this warm feeling in her chest, for the feeling of wanting to be close to him even when she wasn’t supposed to be. A name that would describe exactly how she felt when he looked at her with that cheeky grin or when their fingers brushed, that would explain why her heart had always beat faster when he said those things to her, things that she was now sure had meant more back then than they had let on. She knew that name, she knew those words that were expected of her. Those words, that were said too much and were never enough, those words that always tasted bitter on her tongue. Claire knew that was exactly how she felt about him, and that's where things started to get complicated. Because Neil was ... warm and gentle. He was happiness, familiarity, trust, and heart palpitations. He was the feeling spreading inside her, so much so that she felt like she was going to burst, in the best possible way. And those words wouldn't do it justice. Leaving it unsaid was easier; it wouldn't expose her, it would protect her from what would happen if they did slip from her lips, and yes, she wanted to say it. She wanted to say it from the moment he sat in the ambulance, looking at her as if he could already hear these words. She wanted to tell him when they stood in the OR together that night, and she was trying to make him promise never to put himself in danger again. She wanted to say it in the stairwell, just before her body took on a life of its own. And maybe she'd wanted to tell him the first time she'd heard him laugh, completely uninhibited, as she'd rolled her bowling ball past all the pins. It hadn't been a lie; Claire knew exactly what that was. And it wasn't that he didn't deserve to hear it. It was more that Claire had lost herself in this very moment, here, with him. Safe and secure, where nothing else mattered. She wanted to stay in this moment as long as possible. This warmth in her body was safe, as long as it could linger inside her. For a heartbeat, it was enough for her to know she could still feel it.

 

In the middle of the night, she found herself in his kitchen, barefoot, wearing a Stanford shirt that was probably three sizes too big. She was already on her way back to the bedroom, her fresh glass of water in hand, when she paused and looked around with a small smile. It struck her as odd how comfortable she already felt there, even though it was only her second time in his apartment. She wondered if he would feel the same way in her apartment, but couldn't imagine it. The thought made her wrinkle her nose; he would probably be completely lost if he were at her place - she was pretty sure there were still dishes in the sink and probably a few clothes thrown untidily over the arm of the sofa. Judging by his apartment, she'd almost suspect he had OCD, or at least an obsession with cleanliness. Apparently, opposites really did attract. In the moonlit hallway that led into the bedroom, she paused when she noticed the two framed pictures on the wall. Claire had barely noticed any wall decorations at his place; the only things that had caught her eye were the diplomas and graduation awards he displayed framed. She hadn't seen any personal pictures in the entire apartment, so her interest in these two pictures was greater than her need to go to bed. A gentle smile spread across her lips as she looked at the top of the framed pictures. Clearly a family photo, and she hadn't had to ask to know who these people were. Her gaze fell on the man in the background, who took up almost the majority of the picture. His face was stern, every line sharp and deep; his lips, almost completely obscured by a bushy beard, barely showed a smile. But his eyes were the same as the ones she had lost herself in so many times before. Dark, warm brown. Beside him stood a small, delicate woman, her gaze a little sad, but her smile revealed the same dimples that were visible on Neil's face. Her hands clasped the shoulders of the boy in front of her - dark, curly hair so long it fell into his dark eyes. Claire raised her hand and ran her index finger over the boy's face; his gaze uncertain and reserved, but the small crease next to his eyebrow was already there. He looked exactly as he did today, yet she hardly recognized Neil in the picture. None of the warmth he radiated today was there in his eyes. But it was unmistakable; these three people, who shared almost the same face, warmed Claire's heart. She knew Neil's relationship with his parents had been complicated, but there was something melancholy about being able to look into the past like that, to see exactly who he was. Claire knew she resembled her mother, but many of her features were unfamiliar to her when she looked in the mirror. Subconsciously, she knew those pieces were her father's, but if she were being honest, she didn't even know what he looked like anymore. She had a picture in her head of the day he left, but she couldn't say for sure if it was a real memory or just an image she'd invented to give her something to imagine. It didn't matter to her, but seeing this picture hanging there, knowing that Neil had hung it right next to his bedroom where he could see it every day, even though he harbored bitter feelings toward his parents, gave her a feeling she couldn't place. Something between longing and curiosity. But then, maybe this picture was only hanging there because of the little girl who had squeezed herself into the frame next to Neil - her mouth curled into a wide smile revealing her missing teeth, her eyes fixed on Neil. Claire chuckled. She looked adorable. Then her gaze fell on the picture below, and she frowned. It was a photograph of an endless beach, the red sunset reflected in the water. It struck her as odd; Neil didn't seem like the type of person who would hang a picture like that, especially when it was one of the only two he had hanging up.

"What are you doing?" she suddenly heard a whisper and jumped slightly. She looked over her shoulder and immediately caught Neil's gaze, standing behind her - a bit disheveled, his eyes still tired, but a gentle smile on his lips as he took a step closer. Claire smiled as she turned away again and pointed at the photos.

 

"I was just ... wondering what these pictures were," she said, feeling his warm hand on her lower back as he stood beside her. Neil tilted his head.

 

"And to what decision did you come to?" Claire shrugged slightly, watching him out of the corner of her eye, nodding toward the first picture.

 

"I don't want to go out on a limb, but this boy looks pretty familiar." There was a playful undertone to her voice, and the small grin on Neil's face didn't take long to appear. He hummed an affirmative tone, and for a heartbeat, there was silence between them as Claire let her gaze fall on him. "That's Gaby, isn't she?" Neil's smile narrowed a little, but remained gentle as he nodded slightly.

 

"Yeah, that's her. She was such a whirlwind back then. After that photo was taken, my parents scolded her because she just couldn't stand still." He snorted before his gaze darkened, his fingers twitching slightly on her back. Claire could see what was bothering him, and for a moment, she considered asking him about the accident, how much later it happened, or why he already looked so sad in the picture, but she swallowed those thoughts.

 

"Your mother looks a lot like you. She looks very sweet," she said quietly instead, giving him a slight smile. He tilted his head as if considering her words, then shrugged them off.

 

"She was." His voice was quiet, and for a brief moment, Claire regretted having brought it up when she saw the sadness in his eyes. But then he turned his head toward her and gave her a warm smile, which Claire, whether she wanted to or not, immediately returned. Before she could lose herself in his eyes, she nodded back toward the pictures and chuckled.

 

"Okay, but you have to explain one thing to me." He raised an amused eyebrow as her index finger landed on the beach photo. "What's up with that incredibly cheesy photo? It looks like that desktop photo on Glassman's computer." Neil laughed softly and shook his head as his hand slid under her shirt and touched the bare skin on her back. Goosebumps spread across Claire's body, and she pressed her lips together to suppress a smile.

 

"I didn't know you had a thing against beautiful landscapes." Claire rolled her eyes and gently nudged him in the side with her elbow.

 

"I don't. But this ... I don't know. It doesn't quite fit in here." Neil shrugged before a grin spread across his face. His gaze also landed on the photo, and for a moment he didn't say anything. Claire studied him, but couldn't see what was going on inside him. There was a softness in his gaze that she couldn't quite interpret, especially in conjunction with his furrowed brow. He exhaled deeply through his nose before their eyes met again.

 

"After med school, I was in Koh Lanta for a while," he said, a little more quietly than before, but still with the slight smile on his lips. "I wanted to see a bit more of the world, figure myself out." Claire heard the warmth in his words, and it wrapped itself around her like a comfortable blanket.

 

"Is that where you took the photo?" she asked, and he nodded immediately, his fingers beginning to draw lazy circles into her skin, his gaze lost in the photo in front of him.

 

"You could sit on that beach for hours and just ... listen. To the waves, the birds, … the silence." She tilted her head, unable to imagine Neil there even if she tried. She had known him for almost three years now and could count the days he hadn't spent in the hospital on one hand. He hardly had any days off; she couldn't imagine him just sitting on a beach somewhere, doing nothing but being. He probably wouldn't be able to anymore, either. But then Claire thought back to the sight of his face when he'd been sleeping, looking so carefree, as if nothing could disturb his peace. And for a moment, that warmed her heart.

 

"Sounds like a dream," she murmured, and he nodded, now a little more distant, his gaze still fixed on the picture. "So what did you do all day? Just ... sit on the beach and contemplate life?" He laughed a quiet laugh. Without another word, he pulled her into his arms. She felt his smile against her head, and her heart began to beat a little faster.

 

"Some days, yes." His arm gently stroked her back, his voice so warm it could have been a bedtime story. "Other days I swam until I couldn't feel my arms anymore. Rode a quad bike around the island or hiked through the countryside all day. Ate whatever the old women cooked by the side of the road." He exhaled longly and pressed a kiss to her forehead before moving away from her a little, just enough so they could look into each other's eyes. She didn't know what she saw there; it was a gentle emotion, though one she'd never seen reflected in it before. Neil nodded toward the bedroom with a slight tilt of his head and a contented smile on his lips, and Claire followed him without thinking. Her gaze remained fixed on him as he shook his head slightly, as if he didn't know either whether he was talking about memories or dreams. "I read books I claimed to have already read. Fell asleep listening to the waves." He fell into bed, and Claire slowly followed him, placing her glass on the nightstand and lying down opposite him. Neil stared at the ceiling before closing his eyes for a moment. Claire couldn't help but smile slightly. Something about the way peace spread across his face filled her with warmth. She wanted to be close to him, but was afraid that touching him might ruin the moment. "No alarm clocks. No noise ... no pressure to be anyone." When he sighed softly, she couldn't stop herself and slid closer, laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arm around him. Without hesitation, his hands found their way onto her body. His heart beat steadily beneath her ear; a gentle sound that made her close her eyes. Neil's hand ran through her hair, a sensation she'd quickly realized she'd become addicted to, and she sighed contentedly. "I fell in love." Claire's eyes popped open instantly as she followed his words. She hesitated for a moment, not because it surprised her, but because of the way he'd said it. Not flippantly, not casually, but reverently. Claire lifted her head from his chest, and their eyes met immediately. Claire frowned.

 

"In love? With ... someone?" There was no jealousy in her voice, not really, more like genuine interest. Neil had told her so much about his past, the things that weighed on him, the people who had shaped him. Even though she hadn't expected him to list every single relationship he'd ever been in, it still surprised her. He hesitated for a moment before smiling slightly, almost imperceptibly.

 

"With her … With the silence." His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "And maybe with the person I was back then, a little." Claire rested her chin on his chest and studied him, trying to piece together the missing pieces of the puzzle in his gaze, trying to imagine it. He gave her a warm smile and brushed a strand of hair from her face, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly upward.

 

"How long were you there?" she asked quietly, raising a skeptical eyebrow as he began to chuckle. He avoided her gaze and hummed a soft laugh.

 

"Hmm," he began, and even in the dark room, she could see the twinkle in his eyes. "Eight days." Claire paused and breathed a soft, disbelieving laugh. From the way he'd told it, she'd guessed it had been weeks, maybe even months.

 

"Such a romantic," she said, rolling her eyes, and Neil nodded slowly, but his hand gently rested on her cheek. His finger carefully stroked her skin as she saw something in his eyes that made her heart leap from her chest. His other hand gently stroked her hair, and she pressed her lips together as she lost herself in his warm gaze. He shrugged slightly.

 

"It was the place. It made eight days feel like a lifetime." They didn't say anything for a while, and Claire wondered how this version of Neil differed from the current one, and what she would have thought of him if she'd known him back then. Well, realistically, there was no way they could have met back then, and even if they had, they probably wouldn't have had much in common.

 

"Who was she?" she asked, and Neil frowned hesitantly for a brief moment before sinking his head further into the pillow.

 

"I met her during one of my hikes, and then -" There was a brief pause that didn't seem oppressive, but melancholy. "We went swimming at night and sat on the beach until sunrise, and just ... talked. About our dreams, fears, about medicine ... art. The world." Claire smiled slightly as she tried to imagine it. It seemed like one of those fantasies she'd had to escape her everyday life. Just being somewhere far away, with someone who understood. For her, it had never been more than that - imagining. It was strange that Neil had actually had that experience. "It wasn't just a fling, it was deeper. At least it felt like it." He laughed a soft, warm laugh, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "We had nothing to prove, we didn't want to impress each other, we just ... laughed together." The small crease between his eyebrows appeared a little, but the smile on his lips remained gentle. "She was everything but what I always imagined. But for a while, it just ... worked."

 

"What happened?" Claire asked, and Neil shrugged, his hand gently stroking her hair.

 

"Different lives. I came back to start residency. She stayed, or went somewhere else, I don't know. There was no drama, not even any heartbreak. We knew the timing just wasn't right." Claire raised her eyebrow as she turned her head slightly to catch his eye.

 

"Doesn't sound like you," she noted. She only knew Neil as this all-or-nothing kind of person. Love had always played an important role in his life, and he had always held on to it. It struck her as odd how easily he'd spoken about letting this girl go. Neil shrugged.

 

"For a while, it was." A strange feeling spread through Claire, not jealousy, not even longing. She wondered who she would have been today if she'd had such a break, a moment frozen in time that no one could take away. What would it be like to be able to remember someone without regret? Or to fall in love without being broken by it? For a moment, she considered asking him what she'd looked like, to get an idea of ​​what she'd said, to make him laugh, what had made him fall for her after such a short time. But she didn't, because she could sense that it wasn't about this woman, not even about the feelings he'd had for her. It was about this place, about the version of himself he'd been able to be for a while - free, easy, open. As Claire looked at his face, the worry lines so deep in his skin they were visible even when he was at rest, she wondered if he sometimes missed that version of himself. If he sometimes looked at the picture of the beach and wished he could go back there, to just turn back time and being that person again.

 

"Would you like to go back there? Someday?" When their eyes met, his thumb gently stroked her cheek. Then, for a moment, he seemed to really consider it and exhaled heavily through his nose, his eyes darkening slightly as he looked past her.

 

"That place is probably overrun with tourists now." His voice was a little quieter than before, and there was a sadness in it that made Claire's stomach clench. His lips were slightly pursed, and she tilted her head.

 

"That's really sad." Their eyes met again, and this time he grinned broadly. Before she could say anything, he turned, gently pushing her off him. Suddenly she was lying on her back and Neil was looking down at her, the warm brown in his eyes shining, the dimples in his cheeks making her heart beat a little faster.

 

"Yeah, maybe a little," he said, but this time his voice was light and carefree. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth. "But I guess some places aren't forever." His lips continued to move to her cheek, his breath warm on her skin. "Falling in love doesn't always mean forever." Neil leaned back so she could look into his eyes. "Sometimes it just means you were there, and it mattered." Something about the way he said it warmed her heart. Neil had this talent for making even the most tragic things seem beautiful, as if they had some kind of deeper meaning. And maybe they did. Even if Claire could hardly imagine it, especially not from the perspective of the most romantic person she knew, the warmth in his gaze, the sincerity of his smile and the determination in his words made Claire believe every word.

 

"And then again, it's just been eight days," she countered, and he rolled his eyes playfully and sighed before leaning closer and pressing his lips to hers. Gentle and warm, just the slightest movement, and something about it made the blood race through her veins. Her hands found his face without hesitation as she deepened the kiss. Neil let himself be carried away for a brief moment before pulling away to press a kiss on her nose.

 

"What about you?" he asked, a cheeky grin on his face. Claire raised her eyebrow, but she couldn't suppress the smile.

 

"Did I travel somewhere and instantly fall madly in love with a woman before I even knew her name? No." Neil laughed softly and grumbled in dissatisfaction before leaning closer again, their lips almost touching. "But I was married once," she finished her thought, achieving what she'd hoped for. Neil leaned back abruptly, his expression more confused than she'd probably ever seen, his mouth slightly open.

 

"Married? Like ... officially married?" Claire grimaced, pretending to think hard about it.

 

"Well, technically and legally ... yes, I was married. For eighteen hours." Only more question marks formed on Neil's face, and Claire couldn't help but laugh boisterously at his expression, which made the corners of Neil's mouth twitch.

 

"To ... who?" he asked, not believing his voice. Claire gave him a meaningful look.

 

"Kyle Blake. Although I'm pretty sure he forgot the 'e' on the paperwork. Honestly, I have no idea who I married." At this point, Neil's face was nothing more than a mask as he tried to follow her story, or figure out how serious she was. He turned, leaning on his elbow, and Claire had to turn her head to meet his eyes. She chuckled and sighed. "After my first year of med school, my friends and I went to Vegas for the weekend," she began, but that only made him frown more. "It was two of my girlfriends at the time, Kyle and I. I had a crush on Kyle for what felt like forever, and well …" She shrugged, biting her lip to stifle another laugh. "On the very first day, we got so drunk, and Sophia said it would be a good idea if we got married." Neil's face twisted into a grimace of humor and disbelief.

 

"Are you serious?" His voice was amused, and so Claire just nodded contentedly before sighing, still grinning.

 

"The next morning, of course, was a lot less funny. But we were able to get it annulled in time, so maybe we weren't married in that sense? I don't even know." She laughed softly and shook her head. "That was so stupid." Neil chuckled, his hand found its way to her cheek, and he shrugged. For a moment, they didn't say anything, but Claire couldn't suppress the stupid grin. She hadn't remembered this story in what felt like ages; so much had happened since then, her friends had parted ways, and so she had eventually pushed the memory to the back of her mind.

 

"I didn't take you for the Vegas-girl type," Neil said after a moment, and Claire raised her eyebrow with a smile.

 

"And I didn't take you for the swim-with-dolphins-until-the-sunset type. And yet." He grunted in agreement before rolling back on top of her, his eyebrow still slightly raised. Claire chuckled, amused by the situation and happy with his weight pressing against her. She liked the feeling; it reassured her.

 

"I really never thought you'd get married before me," he said, a little sarcastically, but his gaze as smug as ever, before he pressed a kiss to her lips.

 

"Why not?" she murmured against his mouth. "Am I not dateable enough?" He hummed a soft laugh before his lips moved further to her chin.

 

"No," he said, pressing a kiss to her throat. "Because I was already engaged before we met." Claire nodded convincingly, her next stupid remark already on the verge of being spoken, but it caught in her throat as he kissed her collarbone. "And besides, who were you supposed to marry?" he whispered cheekily as his mouth moved further down to her sternum. "You were madly in love with me from day one," he mumbled against the fabric of her top, but she felt his lips on her upper stomach. She let out a hoarse laugh.

 

"Right. How could I have forgotten?"

 

"Hmm," he mumbled when his lips reached her stomach. She tried hard to think of a clever comeback, but her mind clouded as her pulse began to throb deeper and deeper within her body. A moment later, her breath caught as Neil pushed her shirt up a little to reveal the bare skin of her stomach. She felt the breath of a quiet smile and closed her eyes, realizing that her mind was no longer capable of speaking. And if she was honest, she could've thought of several other things she'd rather do than talk at that moment.

 

****

 

With a lukewarm mug of coffee in hand, Claire made her way to the hospital. As much as she'd enjoyed spending the nights with Neil, the morning afterwards stressed her out even more. Maybe they were just overthinking things - would anyone really care if they arrived at the hospital together? They worked the same shifts most of the time, so as long as they arrived in different cars, it certainly wouldn't be a problem. Seeing the outside walls of the hospital brought Claire back to reality. It had been easy to pretend with Neil that none of this existed - rules they secretly broke, job titles that got in their way, colleagues who might just have to take a look in her face to know what she was doing. But in person, it was all different. Claire had thought it was the right decision not to bring up Maya again with Neil, at least not that night. She'd been afraid of ruining it again just by being too emotional. She was all the more grateful that Neil had tacitly agreed to leave that part out when it was just Neil and Claire, rather than Boss and Resident. Still, it lingered in her mind, even though she thought she could trust Neil. He wasn't irresponsible or reckless, and even though she thought she saw something he didn't, maybe the other way around was just as true. It was strange, this feeling in her chest after last night. Even though they'd repressed what had happened between them, it hadn't felt like it. Sure, she'd resorted to the tactic she knew - said with sex what she couldn't with words. But it had felt different, not like she was hiding from something, more like they were dealing with it together, albeit not in the most direct way. It was more like when they'd come face to face again, it had suddenly stopped being important, and that was something Claire appreciated. She hadn't been able to think of anything else all morning, the way he had opened up to her, the way they had laughed together, the way he had shown her a side she hadn't known - the one who had spent eight days in Koh Lanta, walking barefoot and laughing with someone he hadn't planned to meet. A version that fell in love without fear or consequences. It felt far from the man she knew now. And yet … it didn’t. She had watched him change when he spoke about it. Not dramatically, just a touch. His voice softened, his shoulders loosened. He had smiled without calculation. That had surprised her most, not the story itself, but what it did to him. She wasn't sure what she had expected when he said he had fallen in love there. A name, a regret, some kind of unspoken sadness? Just as it always had been when he talked about the people he had once loved, the people he had thought were what he was lucky enough to have. But there had been none of that. Just warm memories, of a time in his life that he had cherished, without the need to cling to it. She couldn’t picture him there exactly; shirt half-unbuttoned, grinning in the Thai sun, laughing with someone he barely knew and that didn’t matter anymore. Yet in a way, that thought made her smile. As if she had found a piece of the puzzle that completed the whole picture, even if she didn’t quite understand how. She sighed contentedly when she reached the hospital entrance, but slowed her pace almost imperceptibly when she noticed Shaun and Lea, who had been in the middle of a conversation. Claire hesitated for a brief moment, still not quite sure what to make of the whole situation.

She had liked Carly, she had been good to Shaun, had understood him, had helped him understand himself. In a way, she had brought Shaun out of his shell and shown him that he had the right to be loved, just like everyone else. But for Shaun, it hadn't been enough, or at least not what he needed. After everything Carly had done, it had still been so much easier for Shaun to open up to Lea, even if, from the outside, she might not have been the right choice. But by all appearances, the woman Shaun had chosen was the one he could say with complete conviction that he loved. And who was Claire to judge Shaun or Lea for that? After all, she had also chosen the man who, from the outside, had been the worst choice for her, at least according to the rules and circumstances.

Lea noticed her first. Her smile was a little uncertain, and she raised her hand in a small wave, not as bold as usual. "Hey, Claire. Morning." Claire smiled gently as she stopped next to them.

 

"Morning." Her gaze flicked between the two as she took a sip from her cup. For a brief moment, there was silence between them, and Claire immediately noticed the awkward atmosphere. She wondered what was going through Lea's mind, if she was uncomfortable running into her - not that she had any direct reason for it, but she was certainly aware that Claire knew about the whole situation between them.

 

"We got here early. The bus was moving faster than the schedule said. That happens sometimes." Shaun said the last part with a strained tone, and Claire gave him a warm smile.

 

“Sounds like you’ve already had an exciting morning.” Shaun nodded before launching into an essay about why it was difficult when buses left early or went too fast. Claire only listened halfheartedly, nodding when appropriate, her gaze occasionally flickering to Lea, who seemed to be watching her out of the corner of her eye. After Shaun finished speaking, Lea giggled softly and cleared her throat before turning fully to Claire.

 

“Oh, um. I’ve been thinking. Sometime, the three of us could … go out for something to eat or something. No pressure, just if you want.” Claire raised an eyebrow in surprise, but nodded reflexively. Before she could respond, Shaun interrupted her.

 

“Lea thinks it would be good if we were all friends. I agree.” Lea gave him a quick look that was somewhere between hesitation and puzzlement before she slowly nodded and gave Claire an uncertain smile. Surely that wasn't too bad an idea, and the fact that Lea was thinking about that was a good sign. She certainly knew that Shaun and Claire were close and it seemed to be important to her that there was no bad blood between them.

 

"Sure, yeah. Just let me know when." Lea's face lit up for a brief moment, and she nodded contentedly.

 

"Lea has been eating cereal for dinner. Four nights in a row. That's not sustainable," Shaun suddenly blurted out, and Claire furrowed her eyebrows briefly and, as if by reflex, exchanged a look with Lea, who mock-rolled her eyes.

 

"Excuse me, it was just three nights. And it was the fancy granola. You really can't blame me," she laughed softly, and Claire shrugged with a smile.

 

"If it comes in a resealable pouch, I say it's basically gourmet." Shaun shuddered, almost as if he found the idea so absurd that he had to dismiss it immediately.

 

"That's not how nutrition works." Claire and Lea laughed together, it seemed light and exuberant, and for a brief moment, Claire could see them together. Could see that they were good for each other. She smiled gently as two pagers went off. Shaun and her looked at theirs at the same time. "I have to go," Shaun called out as he moved, before he disappeared. Lea waved after him before her gaze fell on Claire.

 

"I have to go too. ER." Lea pressed her lips into a smile and nodded cautiously.

 

"Okay, um. See you then." Claire nodded and waved before also setting off at a brisk pace.

 

****

 

It was another one of those days in the emergency room - no time to change, no thought for where she was needed most, just chaos. Claire pulled on her protective gown and some rubber gloves before running to one of the beds, where the nurse was already handing her the medical chart. She glanced quickly at the patients - the girl on the gurney was writhing in pain, her fingers curled into the sheet, but her results were what worried her.

“BP’s dropping; 82 over 56!” called the nurse, her eyes fixed on the monitor. Claire pressed her gloved fingers to the patient’s abdomen; distended, tender, but not rigid. No bruising, no obvious trauma. Labs were still pending. Ultrasound was running but hadn’t shown anything useful yet. Twenty-two, no known allergies. The chart said endometriosis. No signs of external bleeding, but she was pale, lips losing color.

 

“Pelvic pain, low BP, guarding, positive rebound … This could be appendicitis, but her pain's diffused now. Could be a ruptured cyst … or internal bleeding, but from what? Her uterus?” She furrowed her eyebrows as her eyes flickered over her patient. Her mind began to race as she ran through all the possible diagnoses. It made no sense; one thing ruled out the other; the symptoms didn't fit.

 

“You’re not wrong. But I’d check for free fluid in Morison’s pouch. If that’s full, you’re dealing with a hemorrhagic cyst. Possibly ruptured,” an unfamiliar voice suddenly said behind her. Claire didn’t turn immediately. She hated being interrupted, even more, she hated being interrupted correctly. But when she did turn, the man wasn’t smug. He looked … grounded. The loosened tie gave him the look of someone who’d been here before, maybe too many times. She recognized him instantly.

 

"Dr. Lane ...," was all she managed to say, her expression probably as surprised as her voice. A small smile flitted across his face, and for a brief moment, Claire was annoyed that she had recognized him immediately. But the grin was the same as in the photo Morgan had shown her. Confident, perhaps even a little aloof. He was good-looking, perhaps almost a little too good-looking. He had that charisma about him that could have wrapped anyone around his finger, his eyes bright, his smile warm and inviting.

 

“Dr. Browne,” he said, offering just the right nod, respectful, not condescending. Claire paused when she heard her name. She wasn't sure how he would know her, or who would have mentioned her, but she couldn't muster an answer; more than a brief, bewildered nod was all she could manage. She had known he would be coming in the next few days, but she had expected a somewhat more ... formal appearance. “I'm not here to step on toes. Just thought you might want the radiologist to angle the probe higher.” A brief pause, during which their eyes met. His eyes reflected the same self-confidence as the rest of his face. “You already knew that, though.” Claire raised her eyebrow, her heartbeat began to return to normal, and as if by reflex, she began to analyze his demeanor, but he didn't let her see behind his facade.

 

“Maybe. But you timed your advice well.” He shrugged, stepping back.

 

“Or you were about five seconds away from making the same call. Either way, nice to meet you.” He was gone before she could respond, back through the crowd of nurses and interns like he belonged to the room already. Claire turned back to the screen, the ultrasound now showing the faint outline of free fluid right where he said it’d be. Damn it. He was right, well, of course he was. Claire let out a soft sigh before instructing the nurse to sedate the woman and prepare an OR for Dr. Lim. She gritted her teeth as she peeled off her gloves and looked in the direction he had disappeared, her mind racing. The feeling Lane had given her was one she couldn’t quite place - had she been impressed? Sure, in a way she was. Claire prided herself on control, on reading a room. But she hadn’t even heard him come in. No fanfare, no orders, just a quiet suggestion that hit the diagnosis she’d been circling like a hawk with nowhere to land. She hated that it landed. And she really hated that she respected it. Most people barged into the ER with a badge and a voice ten decibels too high. Lane had slipped into chaos like it was his native language, not just calm under pressure, but somehow already in rhythm with the noise. That didn't happen often. Claire wasn't sure if she liked it. He wasn't showing off, she thought. He just knew. She chewed on that as she walked back toward the lounge, already composing the post-op note in her head. But a thought kept creeping through, uninvited. What kind of surgeon doesn’t lead with ego? Was he always like this, or did he want to make a good impression on her? Maybe it just seemed so strange to her because he was so different from Glassman, and she couldn't imagine what it would be like if he were to take on that role now. Claire shook her head as she opened the door to the Residents' Lounge, but she couldn't escape that thought for long when her eyes fell on Morgan.

 

"I'm just saying, if you're going to challenge me on surgical technique, at least wait until I've had a chance to prove myself," said Lane, leaning on the edge of the table in front of her and giving her a wink. Morgan tossed her hair back, her eyes flashing.

 

"Or maybe I just like the idea of ​​you trying to impress me." He chuckled, low and confident. Claire slowed her steps, her brows drawing together slightly as she took in the scene. She had been aware that Morgan had found him attractive, but she had dismissed it as harmless drunken talk. What was now unfolding before her eyes was a completely different story. Dr. Lane had that look, confident, relaxed, and just enough flirtation in his voice to blur the line between banter and boundary-crossing. His hand rested on Morgan's shoulder for a moment, so brief that it shouldn't have meant anything, but something about it didn't appeal to Claire. She glanced at Park, who sat in the corner flipping through a patient file, his jaw tight, and his eyes occasionally flickering toward Morgan, then Lane, then away again. Another page turned. Loud in the quiet and a little too passive-aggressive for Alex.

 

"Good morning," Claire said after a moment, more directed at Morgan, who only gave her a quick glance. However, it was enough to see the sparkle in her eyes. Lane finally looked her way, as if just noticing she'd walked in.

 

"Dr. Browne," he greeted lightly. "Still surviving the ER chaos?" Claire heard the tone in his voice, familiar and pleasant. The kind of tone she'd only heard from one person before, and that was the one she'd spent the night with. She forced a slight smile.

 

"Trying to," she said. Her gaze slid between him and Morgan. "Looks like you found the real action in here, though."

 

"Jealous?" Morgan asked with a smirk.

 

"Of what?" Claire asked flatly. She still wasn't quite sure how to interpret this whole situation. Not only did she find it a little absurd that Morgan was flirting with her new boss right in front of everyone, she of all people, but she also didn't know what Lane was after. He exuded this perfect image that made Claire uncomfortable. She would claim to have a good understanding of people, and if there was one thing she was aware of, it was that nothing that seemed perfect could maintain that facade for long. Morgan just laughed and returned her full attention to Lane. Park didn't even bother hiding the scowl that passed across his face.

 

“Nothing wrong with a little cross-departmental bonding,” Lane said smoothly. “Builds team morale.” Alex laughed a humorless laugh, his gaze flickering up for a moment, but not long enough to reveal his grimace.

 

“Pretty sure that’s not the kind of bonding HR meant,” he muttered. The silence that followed was taut. Morgan broke it with a shrug, tossing her hair over one shoulder. Claire sighed and pulled up a chair, sitting at the farthest corner of the table from them. Her fingers tapped nervously on the table as her gaze met Alex’s. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and she knew she wasn’t alone in her caution toward him.

 

“Ah, good, you’ve met Dr. Lane.” Andrews strode quickly into the lounge, his gaze friendly by his standards. "Please excuse the chaos. Dr. Lim was supposed to give an official introduction, but she was just called into the operating room." His gaze flickered between them before placing his hand on Lane's shoulder in a friendly manner. "As you already know, Dr. Lane will be taking over Glassman's job until further notice. His main focus here is running the clinic, but he'll also be supporting us in the operating room. So I'd advise you to get on his good side." The two shared a hearty laugh, and Claire chuckled when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alex roll his eyes.

 

"Ah, I think we'll be fine. I've read a lot of good things about each and every one of you. I'm happy to have this opportunity." Andrews and Lane fell into a conversation about the various rotations, which Claire was only too happy to withdraw from. Part of her was already excited to be working with him; she'd still been impressed by his performance in the ER. The other part of her, the one that looked at him through slightly narrowed eyes, didn't quite trust the whole thing. "Oh, there he is! The man of the hour!" Lane suddenly called out so loudly that it immediately tore Claire out of her thoughts. Lane stood up in one smooth movement and when Claire followed his gaze, she saw Neil standing in the doorway, a coffee cup in his hand, his expression neutral but with the faintest flicker of something unreadable behind his eyes. The mood in the room was suddenly different, the air tense. But Lane didn't seem to mind; he stopped in front of Neil and gave him a friendly hug. Claire raised an eyebrow and let her gaze wander around the room, but the others seemed just as surprised by the situation as she was. "Finally, we see each other again, amigo." As he pulled away from Neil, he patted him on the shoulder once more in a brotherly way. Neil's face hadn't changed much, but Claire noticed the small crease between his eyebrows. He offered a polite nod, his movements smooth and controlled as always.

 

"It's good to see you again," he said with a hint of a smile that didn't seem particularly sincere.

 

"You know each other?" Andrews asked, posing the question everyone in the room had been thinking about. Claire never took her eyes off Neil. She hadn't realized they knew each other, and even though she'd never spoken to him directly about it, she'd expected him to mention it at some point. Lane chuckled as he turned to them.

 

"Neil and I are ... old friends. What I could tell you about that buddy, ..." he said, still grinning, his eyes on Neil. Neil's lips were slightly pursed, his eyebrows furrowed, as he grumbled in an affirmative tone. "You've built quite the reputation," Lane continued, stepping forward slightly, not quite invading Neil's space but toeing the line. "Beast in the operating room, some of the articles you've published ... really got me thinking." Neil nodded. His gaze flickered to the others for a brief moment, but when he noticed they were already looking at him, he averted it again. "And the guy's turned out handsome, too. You're certainly quite a heartbreaker here, huh?" Neil straightened and patted him lightly on the shoulder, but nothing about the movement had the same casualness as Lane's.

 

"It's been a long time, Richard." His tone was perfectly professional. Distant, but not rude. But Claire noticed the way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers curled a little too tightly around his mug. Lane didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he did and just didn't care.

 

"Far too long, if you ask me." Something about the way he said it made something in Claire's stomach clench. Not that his tone wasn't friendly, or the way he smiled at him while doing it, but there seemed to be something in his words that didn't fit with the brotherhood he displayed. Alex seemed to be thinking the same thing, as his gaze met Claire's across the table. His eyebrow was slightly raised, and when Claire tilted her head, he gave a barely perceptible shrug.

 

"How do you know each other? Have you ever worked together?" Morgan asked, oblivious to the mood in the air, or at least not interested. Lane raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips together in a smirk as his gaze flickered between her and Neil.

 

"Something like that," Neil answered a little too quickly, a little too coldly. Claire glanced at Neil. His smile was thin. It was subtle, but she knew him well enough to catch the undercurrent; something about Lane rubbed him the wrong way. And Neil didn't get rattled easily. He didn't look at her. Not yet. But she looked at him, watched the way he stayed rooted near the door, as though not wanting to step deeper into the room than necessary. As though Lane's presence made the air feel heavier.

 

"Something like that," Lane repeated, his smile now smug. For a brief moment, so brief that she almost missed it, she caught Neil's eye. She didn't know what she saw in it, but she knew it was something he was trying to hide. Before she could read it any further, he looked away and cleared his throat.

 

"I've got to check on pre-op," Neil said, turning toward the door again. “Dr. Park, you’re with me.” Alex stood wordlessly and followed, grateful for the excuse. Claire almost went too, but Lane laughed softly.

 

“We should grab a drink sometime,” he said to Neil’s retreating back. “For old times’ sake.” Neil didn’t turn completely, but gave him a quick glance over his shoulder.

 

“Yes, we should.” And without another word, he was gone, but the tension in the room remained. Claire stared after Neil for a moment, as if she still needed to organize her thoughts about this encounter, then she looked in Lane’s direction. He had his hands on his hips and at that moment turned to Morgan.

 

“Everyone’s so serious around here.” Morgan giggled. Claire didn’t. Her eyes drifted toward the door like she could still see Neil standing there, stiff-backed and polite in that way that wasn’t really polite at all. Richard Lane ... So that was him. Claire wasn't sure what to make of him yet. He was impressive, in a way, behaving exactly as someone like him was expected to. Sure, he was the complete opposite of Glassman, and maybe that was a good thing. It was too early to tell, so it was probably too early to jump to conclusions, even when it came to Neil. However, it seemed strange to her that he obviously seemed to have a past with him that she knew nothing about.

She wondered if he had mentioned Lane at some point, but her mind was solely on the stories she’d heard from Morgan and a couple of the nurses. Maybe they had worked together at some point, but their past seemed more personal, at least based on what she’d seen in Neil. There had been something in his face; nothing obvious, nothing anyone else would’ve noticed. But she had. A flicker of resistance, discomfort. Maybe even something deeper. Claire tried to shake it off. Maybe Neil was just being protective of the team. Maybe he didn’t like the way Lane was holding court in their lounge like he owned it. Or maybe it was nothing. Claire hesitated.

Lane’s smile had been too wide, his friendliness too loud. And Neil ... Neil had looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. Like he didn’t trust it. She didn't know what to think. Not about Lane. Not about Neil. And certainly not about the quiet, magnetic way she still felt tethered to the look Neil hadn’t given her on his way out. Almost as if he knew that just by giving her that look, she could read in his eyes everything he'd been trying to hide. Neil, he wasn’t the kind of man to let personal bias bleed into a professional setting. He was careful, controlled. At least for as long as he could. Which made his reaction ... unsettling. What unsettled her more, although, was that he hadn’t said a word about it. Any of it. They'd all known Lane was coming but he never mentioned anything. And Claire hadn’t pushed. Why would she? It hadn’t seemed important at the time. But now ... Now, she couldn't stop turning it over in her head. If Lane was just another colleague, why the tension? Why the clipped tone, the avoidance, the look in Neil’s eyes when Lane leaned too close? A bitter little voice in the back of her head asked the question she didn’t want to hear: Had he kept it a secret on purpose?

She didn't like the question. Didn’t like the way it made her feel; left out, a little stupid, and suddenly uncertain of where she stood. Claire wasn’t someone who needed to be told everything. But she wasn't used to being kept from things either. Especially not by him.

Claire gave a polite excuse about needing to check on labs, and stepped out into the hallway, one breath lighter than before, and yet somehow weighed down by even more.

 

---

 

Notes:

Well, well, well. Here he is. Isn't he extra? 🤭 We will find out more about Richard in the next few chapters. But ... at least Neil and Claire are good for now. Obviously she is wondering what that with Lane was all about, buuut things will get somewhere 😐🤫

Chapter 12: The heart and the brain

Notes:

Hey, hope you're having a great day.

Posting a bit earlier because I have a busy weekend :)

Hope you'll enjoy your weekend!

 

---

 

Life became easier. Or at least it felt that way for a while. As if Neil could simply focus on what lay ahead, as if the past truly remained where it belonged. The first meeting with Richard was awkward, but no more or less than he had expected. The barbs, the occasional winks - Neil had already expected them; Richard had always been like that, even before nothing had happened between them. He had actually expected things to get much worse. Claire had asked him that same afternoon what she should think about that whole situation, but Neil had been able to downplay it. He wasn't entirely sure if she had actually believed him when he had described it as friendly rivalry, but she had smiled gently and asked no more questions. For the next few days, Neil still walked around the hospital feeling stressed, his body tensing whenever he heard Lane's voice echoing through the corridors or he ran into him. But much to his surprise, Lane himself didn't seem to particularly enjoy digging into the past. He greeted Neil warmly whenever they ran into each other, engaging in pleasant small talk whenever they stood together in the elevator or waiting for test results. It was almost as if he'd forgotten everything that had happened between them. And Neil wouldn't have minded that at all. After a week, or maybe a little later, he'd gotten used to the situation, and his mind had calmed down a bit, giving him more time to focus on what lay ahead. Alex was being assigned to him more often, and he enjoyed working with him so closely again. Every now and then, Alex talked to him about his family, about his plans to visit them more often in the future, or to bring Kellan in for a while, and Neil liked seeing the light return to his eyes. Even though he noticed he wasn't the same as he was before the earthquake - that would have surprised him anyway. In fact, he felt that whatever had happened that evening with him and that kid had made him a better doctor; he was becoming more confident, standing up to the others, and Neil watched this development with pride. He hadn't been working with Claire as much lately, and even though he missed her perspective in the OR, he considered it the better decision. She often spent her time in the operating room with Audrey, who had felt she saw something special in Claire that deserved to be nurtured. Neil had accepted this with a slight chuckle and without further comment, but secretly thought to himself that he had already said so. The distance in the hospital made it easier for both of them to resist the temptation to steal a moment in the storeroom or on the balcony, even though the desire to do so hadn't diminished. But Neil had come to enjoy those brief moments when they did cross paths. When they stood face to face at the nurses' station, the smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, and she gave him a quick wink before leaving, leaving him grinning way too broadly. Or when they were the last two standing in the elevator and the doors finally closed on them. He never crossed that line they'd set for themselves, but God help him, he was playing with the fire. Locked in this small space, where breathing was almost impossible in her presence, he always took a step closer to her than would have been professional. Some days he left it at that, other days he couldn't help himself and pressed a kiss on her neck or head - much to the protest of Claire, who, contrary to expectations, had become the responsible one in the situation. But she could never resist the slight grin and the twinkle in her eyes when the doors opened and Neil pushed past her as if nothing had ever happened.

These days, she spent more evenings in his apartment than she didn't, and the mere thought of it made Neil's heart race.

He had noticed that she still found it difficult to get into this new role, of being together. She didn't contact him if she arrived later than agreed or decided to spend the night at her place after the day had already been so exhausting. She ordered food, even though he'd said he'd cook for her when she came to visit ... it was just little things, and her apology was always sincere and sweet. She wasn't used to living a life where another person was involved, wasn't used to not being alone. And who was he to judge her for that? Claire needed time, he was painfully aware of that, but she already gave him so much without realizing it. It didn't even take much; just knowing she was there had been enough. When he went through some patient files in the evening and she sat next to him on the sofa, flicking through the TV channels until she landed on something, only to ignore the TV and looking through the files with him. It felt like his perfect little reality, come true when he'd just stopped believing such a thing existed. When she looked over at him, when she thought he wouldn't notice, he wondered what was going through her mind, if she felt the same way he did. If she also felt like she'd done everything right for once in her life. But when their eyes met, there was always something in hers that Neil wasn't sure he wanted to interpret. It was something hidden beneath the warmth, visible only for a split second before she hid it behind the sparkle in her eyes. He wasn't sure if it was doubt, or perhaps the fear she'd never really been able to shake off. The thought of it hurt him, but it hurt him even more that she didn't feel ready to talk to him about it. Maybe there wasn't anything to talk about, he always told himself, but he knew her and knew that wasn't true. Maybe she still harbored that fear of hurting him, that she couldn't trust herself to be with him without breaking his heart. He would have liked to tell her that it didn't matter to him, that she wouldn't hurt him, and that he would stay with her even if she did. But he didn't say anything about it, because he knew these were things she had to learn for herself, that words were nothing more than a Band-Aid on a gaping wound. So Neil said nothing, hoping that would be enough.

Claire was no longer the person he'd found crying in the stairwell; angry at the world, and even more so at herself, disappointed in the people who were supposed to give her comfort. Sure, she still bore the same scars, her misfortunes were occasionally reflected in her behavior, and when she stared into space for too long, her brows furrowed, he knew she was still too caught up in her own head. But she was so much stronger than that, her smile far too beautiful for depression, pain, or fear to hide. And as often as these thoughts came to him - whether it was the right decision to take this step with her, whether she could truly be happy with him, whether she could ever look at him without that shadow in her eyes - the more often the thought occurred to him that he would make every decision exactly the same with her again. The only difference would be that he would have taken a step toward her sooner, that he wouldn't have wasted a moment that he could have spent with her instead. Because there was one thing he appreciated more than he'd realized - he remembered the day Dash had shown up at the hospital and hugged Claire. He thought of the look on her face, the way she lit up when she saw him. And he remembered how he'd felt, naive, a little stupid, and way too involved. The look on her face had haunted him for days and nights afterward, as he wondered why it had been so easy for Dash to make her smile like that. He'd imagined how he would feel if she looked at him that way. He'd realized he would have done anything to see that smile again, even if it meant having Dash by her side. But life sometimes had its own plans, and if he'd thought back then that Claire had lit up when she looked into Dash's eyes, it was nothing compared to that brief moment in the middle of the night that he'd noticed a few times. When she'd been almost asleep, her eyelids heavy, the smile gentle on her lips, and she'd noticed that he was still looking at her - for a brief moment, he saw nothing but Claire. No protective wall, no fear, no worry, just her and the happiness she felt. Warm and gentle. It was only a split second, almost intangible, but it was what was still going through his mind the next day as he watched her through the walls of his office, engrossed in her files. And the thought occurred to him that maybe it had been the right decision after all, to proceed as she had wished. To keep it a secret until they had learned for themselves how it would work. Even if Claire was the one who seemed to be finding it difficult to keep it a secret, not least because she'd had far more opportunities to let it slip than he had lately. Neil was absorbed in his work, spending all his free time with Claire. And Claire complained almost every evening about how difficult it was to keep this secret from Morgan, since, contrary to expectations, they were getting closer and closer. Neil would always suggest, sometimes more, sometimes less as a joke, that she should just tell her, which Claire always dismissed with a slight grin. On top of that, she was meeting up with Shaun more often again - well, Shaun and Lea, who had become an inseparable team. They spent their evenings together at karaoke bars or at dinner, and as much as it pained Neil that, as Claire's partner, he couldn't be there, at least not yet, he secretly enjoyed the grin that kept creeping onto her lips when she talked about the meetings. Gaby had settled into her new accommodation, was content and happy. Neil actually didn't manage to visit as often as he would have liked. He had only been able to see her once in the last three weeks, and a part of him was torn apart by guilt. But that part was soothed when he saw her - she had been happy to see him, had laughed, like always. And then she had shown him around, shown him her room, and introduced him to all the people she particularly liked. Neil was grateful that she seemed to have found a second family here, one that gave her the time she deserved. One that never judged her, one that really took care of her. Neil's thoughts were no longer clear, only rosy. While he had sat with her in the open garden, watching her paint, he had toyed with the idea of ​​bringing Claire along on his next visit. He knew that had only been a premature fantasy - he usually took his time before bringing a woman into Gaby's life, as she seemed to be resistant to change. He had first brought Jessica to her after their engagement, and naturally, they had gotten along well. The first few visits after their separation had been difficult; Gaby had repeatedly asked about Jessica, where she was, when she would be back, and if she had upset her. Neil never wanted to subject himself or Gaby to that again. She had met Audrey, but never as his girlfriend. She had accompanied him on one visit, as they had made a brief stopover on the way to a conference. He knew that Claire and Gaby would surely get along very well, and if his heart had to decide, it wouldn't be long before he introduced them. But Neil had made it his goal to stop blindly following his heart when it came to relationships for a while; far too often, that had led to complications. But Claire made this resolution increasingly difficult, especially when she asked almost casually about his childhood memories and repeatedly chuckled when he told stories about Gaby. It was frightening how quickly and effortlessly Claire had fit into all the gaps in his life and how easy it was to imagine a future with her.

Life had become easier. At least for a brief moment.

 

Neil glanced through the door and clenched his jaw. He'd never get used to that sight, or the feeling he got every time he entered a room like that. The door was always open, which Neil had always found odd, since if he were in that situation, he'd want nothing more than isolation. She sat on the couch, her hands in her lap, as if she didn't know what else to do with them, otherwise she was completely motionless, her eyes fixed on the floor. Neil took a step into the room, but even then she didn't raise her eyes. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, and only then did she look up, her eyes red and swollen, but her gaze glassy. Neil's throat tightened as if by reflex, and he nodded slightly before swallowing hard.

 

"Mrs. Santos," he said gently. "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Dr. Melendez. I'm one of the surgeons here." She nodded.

 

“They said you’re the one who … would do it.” Her voice broke on the last word. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took the chair across from her, not too close, but close enough that his voice didn’t have to rise.

 

“I know you’ve been through hours of conversations already,” he said. “I just wanted to talk to you myself. Not about the surgery. Not yet. Just … about him.” He placed the file on the table next to him and gave her a warm look that was meant to reassure her, even though he knew full well that she was a broken woman. There was nothing he could have said or done in that moment that would have lifted the burden she would have to live with from that day forward.

 

“My sweet Joshy. He liked fixing things. Bikes, old toasters, even a ceiling fan once. Couldn’t stand watching something just … not work.” Neil offered a small smile.

 

“Sounds like a future surgeon.” She smiled, but it broke halfway through. A silence fell over them, the kind of silence Neil only knew from situations like this. A silence broken only by the quiet whimpering or the irregular breathing. When the relatives next to him tried everything not to collapse in front of his eyes.

 

"You all say he won't wake up," she whispered. Neil nodded cautiously. It had been one of those nights that felt endless, with decisions no person could ever have made. It was one of those patients everyone had rooted for, even those who hadn't been in the OR with Neil and Lane.

 

"I know," he said quietly. "He might not. But he's not legally gone yet. That line matters to some people. Maybe it does to you." Mrs. Santos nodded, even though she didn't seem to understand what he was saying. For a split second, she closed her eyes, pain written all over her face.

 

"I don't know what even means anything anymore," she whispered, and Neil exhaled heavily through his nose. He'd been standing next to Claire when she'd told Josh's mom he hadn't made it. She'd screamed and thrashed, protested and cried, until she'd been injected with a sedative. A reaction that was always to be expected when someone had to deliver such news. Neil had almost felt bad about handing this task to Claire, but when she'd spoken to her, he'd remembered that it had been the right decision. There was nothing she could have said that would have made it any less traumatic, but Claire had that charisma, that way with words, that he wouldn't want to be without in a situation like this. "They said ... it would have to be soon. That waiting would risk ... losing everything." Neil said nothing for a moment as their eyes met, carefully weighing his words.

 

“It might. But it's not a decision you make with a clock ticking. Not one like this.” Her eyes narrowed, and Neil involuntarily tensed under her gaze.

 

“But that's what they said. That it had to be now. As if ... if I wait too long, it'll all be gone. Like he'll be gone again. And this time, he won't help anyone.” Her voice trailed off, ending in a soft sob. Neil gritted his teeth to swallow the words already on his tongue. It had only been a matter of time before he and Richard clashed, or at least disagreed, but Neil hadn't expected him to show such a lack of empathy in such a situation. He shook his head slightly and extended his hand toward her - a sign of sympathy.

 

“Mrs. Santos, I’m not here to talk you into anything. I’m here because ... I think you deserve to feel like this decision is yours. Not ours. Not mine. Not the hospital’s.” She blinked at him, startled by the softness in his tone.

 

“Then why are you really here?” Neil hesitated. He had long considered whether to talk to her again, especially after the emergency counselor had already spoken to her. But with what Lane was asking and what Neil wanted, he at least wanted to be sure that the mother knew what she was getting into.

 

“Because,” he said, “Josh’s and your fate was treated as if it were a medical decision. But I think ... it’s a human one.” Silence settled between them. She leaned back against the couch and finally let the tears fall, not loud, not dramatic. Just steady. Like something she’d been holding back finally spilled. He didn’t know what else to say. In med school, he had learned to stick to the facts, to leave emotions at the back as best as possible, but it was easier said than done, especially in a case like this. When Josh was brought to the emergency room the morning before, he had still made jokes, flirted way too directly with a nurse, and told his mother not to worry.

 

“I don’t know how to let go of him,” she said. Neil nodded, wanting to tell her that he didn’t know either, that he couldn’t imagine how she could make such a decision, how she could still sit upright despite her pain. But he didn't.

 

“I don't think you ever do,” Neil replied. “That's a decision no one should make. But if this decision comes from love, from knowing who your son was, then it's the right one. Whatever you choose.” She said nothing for a long moment, and Neil let her. Her ankles rubbed together, her shoulders hunched, the soft whimper made Neil's stomach clench.

 

“I just don't want him to still be in pain. I want him to be at peace,” she whispered, her voice so soft it was barely more than a breath. Neil reached out and placed his hand on hers. She flinched slightly.

 

“Your son is no longer in pain. I can promise you that. And whatever you decide - he'll be treated with care. And dignity. I'll make sure of it.” Her eyes met his, and something in his gaze made her believe him. She nodded slightly, but her eyes remained glazed over.

 

“I need some more time.” The corners of Neil's mouth twitched upward in an emphatic smile.

 

"Then you'll get it." Before she could say anything else, the door opened and an elderly lady entered, her gaze just as blank as Mrs. Santos's. Neil took a step forward and was about to address her when Mrs. Santos jumped up from the couch.

 

“Mommy,” she called before falling into the elderly woman’s arms. Neil’s heart clenched and he cleared his throat as he reached for the doorknob.

 

“I’ll check on you later,” he said, more to himself, knowing he’d already lost their attention. He quietly closed the door behind him and sighed loudly. It should’ve been simple. A medical call. There was nothing else to do, systems failing. Time-sensitive protocols. But it didn’t feel simple, not when he’d sat across from a mother trying to hold her grief in her hands like sand slipping through her fingers. Neil exhaled through his nose, leaning one hand against the wall. The muscles in his jaw clenched reflexively; he could already hear what Lane would say; “You know what the right call is. We don’t always have the luxury of comfort.” No. They didn’t. But there was a line somewhere. There had to be. And Lane … Lane had never been very good at seeing it. Neil always believed that he acted correctly in most situations, even when they were difficult. Protocol was there to make untenable decisions easier, and that often helped. In the past, it had been almost easy for him to put the personal aspects aside and stick to the guidelines that someone had drawn up at some point. Because, of course, individual fates were difficult to process, but simply following the rules made it possible to simply suppress all the doubts and all the sympathy. But at some point in the last few years or months, he had started to look at such cases not just as Dr. Melendez, but also as Neil. And even though that made his job harder, he knew that he had become a better doctor because of it. Neil rubbed at the bridge of his nose. His hands felt heavy. Maybe it was naive, taking the time to talk to the mother. Maybe it wouldn't change the outcome. But he hadn't done it for the outcome. He'd done it because she deserved that time. Because her son had a name, not a surgical slot. The lumb in his throat wasn’t from uncertainty, he knew what the system wanted, what Lane expected. The lumb came from knowing it was already slipping out of his hands. And he hadn't even started fighting yet. He pushed off the wall, collected his breath, and walked toward the OR board. But his shoulders didn’t straighten the way they usually did. Instead he shook his head. He knew he couldn't let this go yet, not without discussing it.

 

****

 

Lane had that expression on his face that Neil knew all too well. Smug, somewhat reserved, as if he didn't want anyone to see behind his facade. But Neil could see right through it. Sure, a lot of time had passed since they'd last seen each other, but it was still easy for him to read him because in more ways than Neil liked to admit, they were very alike. There had been a time when he looked up to Richard. And judging by his medical career, he still could have; it was impressive what he'd built up over the past few years. He was working on a experimental Deep Brain Stimulation implant designed for patients with severe treatment-resistant depression or neurological conditions, and Neil couldn't deny that he'd spent a whole night reading through his studies and theories, fascinated by his visions for the future. Still, not for the first time, he wondered what he'd done to get to this point. Neil knew better than anyone that Lane wasn't without fault. He could see it now, too, as he grinned broadly toward the door through which Shaun and Claire came at almost the same time.

"Dr. Murphy, Dr. Browne, it's good you found the time. I'd like to speak with you and Dr. Melendez about our patient Josh Santos. Please close the door behind you." Shaun did as he was instructed and sat down on one of the empty chairs. Claire raised her eyebrow; Neil didn't need to look up to feel her gaze on him. He did so anyway, and for a brief moment, he met her eyes. But before he could reveal anything, he turned away again, drumming his fingers on the table. Claire sat down in a chair not far from Neil and folded her arms expectantly. Lane nodded, with the smile Neil always wore when trying to convince people of his ideas. "As you know, there was nothing more we could have done for Josh. As soon as he was on our table, it was practically too late." There was a brief silence, broken only by the drumming of Neil's fingers. Lane glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "The only thing we can do now is make sense of his death. I just want to go over the facts with you again." Neil raised his eyebrow.

 

"Shouldn't we discuss this with Dr. Lim? With all due respect, we don't need Dr. Browne's or Dr. Murphy's approval. This isn't about who's on whose side. That's a decision for Dr. Lim to make." Lane breathed a soft laugh and shook his head as he slid copies of the medical records to each of the other three.

 

"Actually, that's the point. Legally, we're covered. We have all the necessary signatures and documentation. The only thing we're missing is your team spirit." Neil furrowed his eyebrows, and Claire also gave him a skeptical look. "Let's stick to the facts. If you all need a refresher, feel free to look at the files." Shaun didn’t look at the files, but in Lane’s direction, his hands clasped together.

 

"Sixteen-year-old male. MVC. Severe cerebral edema, no cortical response, nonverbal EEG. We're looking at an irreversible state. The organ team is on standby. Cardiac recipient is a match and informed." Neil leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, gaze sharp. He laughed a humorless laugh, which earned him a sharp look from Richard.

 

"Dr. Lane, what you're suggesting is insane. The kid's not brain-dead." For a brief moment, there was silence, so heavy that it forced every breath from Neil's lungs. Richard didn't let it show, but his smug smile gave way to pursed lips.

 

"Not yet. But he will be. Every test confirms it. The damage is catastrophic. You know what this is, Neil." Neil felt Claire move next to him, but she just flipped through the file without saying a word. He could feel his pulse in his ears; conversations like this weren't easy, but he hoped that with the others on his side, Lane would have no choice but to at least back off a little.

 

"He has intact brainstem reflexes. Pupillary light response, spontaneous respiration. He doesn't meet the full criteria," Shaun said, not looking at anyone. The corners of Neil's mouth twitched slightly upward, but Lane didn't seem to register Shaun's words. Instead, he turned completely toward Neil, his brow furrowed.

 

“This is a legal call. Families don’t always need a ventilator shutoff to understand what’s inevitable.” Claire sighed softly, her gaze briefly flickering between the two before landing on Lane and closing the files in front of her.

 

“It’s within clinical discretion. The mother has been briefed. She knows it’s coming,” she began, her voice confident yet calm. Before she could continue her thought, Neil turned toward her and interrupted her.

 

“She said she needed more time. She isn’t ready yet.” Claire’s gaze softened, but Lane shook his head.

 

“Time she doesn’t have. Neither does the other family. Besides, she’s already given me her signature. It’s no longer a question of if we do this. It’s a question of who will do it.” His eyes pierced Neil, and he clenched his teeth, his jaw tense. Theoretically, Neil knew he wasn't the only one who could perform a surgery like this, but he was always the first point of contact.

 

"She signed it because you made her feel guilty. Not because she wanted it. This has nothing to do with it being inevitable. You wanted the heart for your patient, and therefore made a grieving mother feel it was her duty to have her son slaughtered." Lane laughed a bitter laugh and ran his hand through his hair. Less controlled than Neil was used to. Claire shook her head.

 

"There's still a difference between inevitable and irreversible. And right now, we're skipping past it." Her voice was warm, but her gaze was intense, her brows furrowed. Lane held her gaze for a moment longer than was appropriate before shaking his head dismissively.

 

"We have a donor match that won't hold. Are we going to let another kid die so this one can linger in limbo?" Neil pushed the file away from him. When their eyes met, neither of them looked away at first. Neil felt the rage pumping through his veins, the adrenaline that made it almost impossible to think clearly.

 

“I’m not harvesting a heart from a living patient. I don’t care what the protocol allows.” Lane’s mouth tightened. When he opened his mouth again, his gaze flickered between Claire and Shaun, as if trying to win them over.

 

“Legally, ethically - we’re within bounds. We act now, we save a life.” Neil snorted and shook his head.

 

“By rushing a family through their grief and pretending that’s not what we’re doing.” His voice cracked slightly due to the anger building within him, but his gaze held Lane’s. Shaun made an unreadable noise before turning in Neil’s direction.

 

“The chances of Josh waking up from his coma are virtually nonexistent. Technically, it wouldn’t be murder. It’s only a matter of time.” Lane turned his back for a beat, pacing slightly. When he faced Neil again, his gaze had cooled, too measured now.

 

“Every second we delay, the chances for that other kid drop. But sure, let’s wait around so Dr. Melendez can feel morally superior.” Neil laughed a humorless laugh before slowly standing up, never taking his eyes off Lane.

 

“That’s not what this is. You’re pushing this because you can, not because it’s right.” For a moment that felt endless, they simply stared at each other. In another situation, Neil would have found it almost laughable; how many times had he been in a similar position, head to head with another surgeon who disagreed with him. But rarely had he felt so powerless. Lane's mouth twitched upward as he looked Neil up and down. He took a step closer, but Neil didn't back down.

 

"Oh, Neil. Do I really need to remind you what happens when you make decisions?" His voice was a little quieter than before, but it hit Neil hard and loud. He clenched his jaw, his fingers curling. For another moment, he said nothing, and Lane began to chuckle. "The boy's dead, Neil. Do you really have to wait another hour for the machines to tell you that? We're wasting time." Neil's breathing became a little uneven as he looked away and sighed. He felt the pressure radiating from Richard. He knew he'd chosen those words carefully, that he'd known the impact it would have on Neil. Richard let him know that he hadn't forgotten what had happened and that he had no problem bringing it up again if Neil didn't play along. What Neil hated most was that it worked.

 

"All right," he said finally, turning away when he saw the pleased expression on Lane's face.

 

"All right?" Claire repeated incredulously, catching Neil's eye. He pursed his lips and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

 

"Find a resident to assist. I'll schedule the surgery in two hours," Lane said, grabbing his papers with satisfaction. As he passed, he leaned toward Neil. "See? Now you see how the world works," he whispered with a smug undertone before disappearing. Neil's gaze followed him out the door before he shook his head with a sigh. For a moment, there was an uncomfortably silence between them. Neil felt Claire's gaze on his skin, but he wasn't ready to face it. He could guess what she would think, and he was the last person convinced by his decision. Claire slowly stood up, and as she came to a stop behind him, Neil turned to her. There was no disdain or judgment in her gaze; her eyes remained warm, but her lips were set tightly.

 

"That was ... something." Neil sighed loudly and ran his hand over his jaw. He prayed Josh's mom was ready by now; he didn't want to be the one who had made her false promises.

 

"Dr. Lane isn't wrong. After brain death, we only have a few minutes before his organs become useless. Technically, we have the best chance of removing all of his organs safely before brain death occurs," Shaun stated nonchalantly, and Neil pressed his lips together before shaking his head.

 

"Go prepare the other patient, Murphy," he demanded with a sweeping gesture, and Shaun nodded before disappearing. Claire gave him a warm smile, which he returned, albeit hesitantly.

 

"Do you think this is the right decision?" she asked, but there was no condemnation in her voice. Neil searched her eyes for the right answer, but before he got lost in them, he shook his head.

 

"I don't know," he answered more or less truthfully. He still believed his mother should decide what the right decision was, but legally, his hands were tied; they already had her consent, whether she'd given it willingly or not. He hated the feeling Lane had made him feel, as if Neil were completely powerless, as if he were playing him like a puppet. He'd promised himselt not to let Lane get under his skin like that, but what could he do?

 

"Maybe you should talk to Glassman." Neil gave Claire a questioning look, and she shrugged slightly. "Yeah, why not? He should know just as well as Lane. It's his job, after all." She chuckled slightly, the kind of smile that made Neil's heart skip a beat. Without control over it, he took a step closer. Her eyes sparkled as she raised an eyebrow. "I'd hurry, though, if I were you. I heard he's being released today." Neil raised an eyebrow.

 

"Really? I thought he was supposed to stay until the weekend." She shrugged.

 

"Guess having that kind of rank at the hospital has its advantages." Neil chuckled slightly before exhaling slowly through his nose. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Claire's hand twitching toward him. Without hesitation, he lightly grasped her fingers, and she pressed her lips together to suppress a smile.

 

"Careful, Dr. Browne, or they might accuse you of taking my side," he murmured, trying to suppress a smile. Claire tilted her head slightly and pretended to consider it seriously before giving a slight shrug.

 

"You know I would never have favorites, Dr. Melendez," she said with a gentle bite on her lip - something she already knew drove him crazy. Neil exhaled heavily through his nose before shaking his head with a smile. He glanced past her briefly, and when he realized the coast was clear, he leaned down toward her, so close that his lips brushed her ear.

 

"I've heard other things." His whisper sent goosebumps down her body, Neil noted with satisfaction, and he chuckled smugly before pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "We'll talk later, Dr. Browne," he said before leaving. He didn't have to turn around to know she was watching him, and he smiled contentedly. It almost made him count the days until she finally finished her residency - not that he planned on lashing out at her at work, but he couldn't deny that he'd been imagining more and more often what it would be like if they finally stopped hiding this. He sighed as he made his way to Glassman's. He had never been one for games. Not when it came to hearts, and especially not when it came to his own, or someone he really cared about. But somehow, with Claire, the rules had rewritten themselves in silence. The quiete smiles in hallways, the accidental touches that weren’t accidental at all, the knowledge that they were playing with fire and yet at some point they no longer cared; it was all a delicate dance they performed behind the closed doors of a world that wouldn’t understand. Whether he would ever say it out loud or not, there was something intoxicating about the secrecy. The thrill of brushing past her in the corridor and pretending not to feel anything. The way her fingers would linger on his just a second longer than they should. The way her eyes found him across the conference table and made the air feel heavier, warmer. It was beautiful in its intensity. Addictive, even. He remembered the first time he had kissed her in the storeroom, in the dark, when there was just the two of them. How her hands in his shirt, her breath against his throat, rewrote every rule he thought he’d live by. It was reckless. He knew that. And it was so unlike him. Every time they kissed behind a locked door, he felt the walls around them tighten. Every morning she left, he was left staring at the ceiling, wondering how long they could keep this going before someone caught on. What would happen then? He was her attending. She was still in her residency. The ethics were muddy even if the feelings felt clear. Getting caught would mean questions. Consequences. The end of her career, possibly. Or his. There were moments when it felt perfect; her body folded into his, her laugh muffled against his shoulder, her whispered “I should go” hanging like a wall between them. And there were moments when it felt unbearably lonely. Because he couldn’t reach for her hand in the break room, not without everyone asking what he was doing. Couldn’t touch the small of her back in public. Couldn’t tell anyone how it felt to fall asleep next to her, like it was the most normal, but also the most beautiful thing he could imagine. Being with her in secret was a paradox. It was the most intimate he’d ever felt with someone, and the most isolated. Like they lived in a world apart, one that only existed behind closed doors and drawn blinds - in the dark, where no one would judge them, like they were doing something terribly wrong. And even though he savored the fire they found in stolen time, a quiete part of him was growing tired of the hiding. He didn’t want her to be a secret. Not because he wanted to claim her, but because he wanted to share her. Because he was proud. Because when he looked at her, he didn’t just see the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about, he saw the future. Not some forbidden detour, but the real thing. He didn't want to feel anymore like this was an affair that would break people's hearts if they found out about it, like what they were doing was wrong. It wasn't entirely morally defensible in some ways, but did that make it wrong? There were times when it felt that way. And he didn't want that anymore. He didn't want to feel like she was less than she was. He longed for something quieter, simpler. He wanted to hold her hand in public without the sound of doors closing behind them. He wanted to take her out to dinner and not have to scan the restaurant for familiar faces. He wanted to walk beside her without pretending they weren't tethered to each other by something neither of them could fully name, but both had already surrendered to. She was still finishing her residency. It wasn't time yet. He respected that, honored her path, even if part of him grew restless in the waiting. Not out of impatience, but out of hope. Because this wasn't temporary for him, no matter how temporary it looked from the outside. He wasn't passing through her life. He had chosen her, quietly, completely, over and over again. And some part of him knew that she had chosen him too. Yes, the sneaking around brought a kind of pulse to his veins he hadn't felt in years. But it was the thought of waking up next to her on a Sunday morning without guilt, without shadows, that made him long for the future. It was the idea of ​​being known, really known, as hers. At the moment it still felt like a dream, warm and comfortable, but almost too good to be true. As if it would burst if he moved in the wrong direction. As if the bubble they moved in would only protect them as long as they kept it a secret. Was he afraid that she would run away from him? He would never say it out loud, but the thought came to him often, even when she looked at him as if she might love him. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but he too felt panic rising whenever he thought about the situation for too long.

 

"And I was hoping I could sneak out without anyone seeing me," Glassman muttered as Neil knocked on his door and entered. He looked better than the last time Neil had seen him. Although he had to admit, he'd visited him less than he'd liked.

 

"What's wrong, Aaron? Are you already tired of the luxury hospital food and personalized care?" Glassman glanced over his shoulder at Neil and laughed sarcastically as he stuffed the last of his clothes into his bag.

 

"I can't wait to finally sleep in my own bed. These cheap mattresses almost killed me more than the damn earthquake." Neil chuckled as he took a step deeper into the room and crossed his arms.

 

"I think it has less to do with the mattresses than with your age," he murmured with a cheeky grin, and Glassman raised his eyes for a moment to look at him, unfazed. After a brief silence, he snorted a light laugh.

 

"Just wait and see, kid. When you get to my age and everything hurts, you'll think of me." Neil's lips curled into a gentle smile before he exhaled softly through his nose.

 

"Well, you'll still be giving me a piece of your mind then." Glassman rolled his eyes playfully and closed his bag. He leaned back against his bed and raised an eyebrow.

 

"So, anything I can help with? You're certainly not just here to insult me, are you?" Neil shook his head and took a step closer, his smile shrinking slightly but not disappearing completely. He took a deep breath.

 

"No, I just wanted to check in on you before you're released." Aaron raised a skeptical eyebrow. He'd known Neil for a long time, and even if most people found it difficult to see behind his facade, to Aaron he was an open book. Neil sighed. "And I wanted to talk to you about this case. He hasn't been declared brain-dead yet - "

 

"The case with Lane?" Glassman interrupted, and Neil nodded hesitantly. "I've heard about that. Difficult case, but none of ours. You all have signatures, and time's running out for the other kid. I think the facts are obvious here." Neil sighed and ran his hand over his face.

 

"That's what I was thinking." He shook his head slowly. "It just doesn't feel right. How am I supposed to perform the surgery when it feels like I'm crossing a line?" Glassman was silent for a moment, but his gaze remained warm before he shrugged with the shoulder that was no longer in the sling.

 

"If you're hoping I'll tell you you shouldn't have a problem doing something like this, then I have to disappoint you. It must feel wrong." Neil furrowed his brow and exhaled heavily. It did. It felt unspeakably wrong, even though he knew it was medically the best thing to do. Josh wouldn't survive, that much was certain. At least, if he ignored the vanishingly small chance that he would wake up. He pressed his lips together.

 

"He's not really gone yet. It feels like I'm playing God." Neil laughed a humorless laugh, knowing how absurd that statement was when that was all he did every day in his job.

 

"It's not the first time you've removed a heart," Aaron stated neutrally, but when their eyes met, there was still warmth in his eyes. Neil shook his head.

 

"No, but ... the kid isn't dead. If I take out his heart, he will be." Glassman nodded, but said nothing for a moment. Instead, he reached for his bag and slung it over his uninjured shoulder. Neil tilted his head.

 

“Back in your first year,” Aaron said softly, “we had a girl brought in after a car crash. Severe traumatic brain injury. No brain activity, but her vitals were stable.” Neil pressed his lips together. He remembered it as if it were yesterday. “We had a kid on the other floor. Liver failure from autoimmune hepatitis. He was out of time. We had a choice to make.” Neil frowned and straightened.

 

“Her parents hadn’t fully processed it yet. They were still hoping. And we … we were the ones who had to go in and talk to them about donations.” When their eyes met, a gentle smile played around Glassman’s mouth. Neil remembered how Aaron had looked at him that time when they stood outside the family’s room. “You told me I didn’t have to be there,” Neil said after a beat. Aaron nodded before looking away, as if trying to remember.

 

“And you showed up anyway. You stood in that room, barely twenty-eight years old, listening to a mother sobbing while we explained why time mattered. You were shaking when we scrubbed in.” Neil swallowed hard when he heard these words. He had never forgotten the girl's name; Laura Daniels. But he also remembered her parents' faces to this day; they were burned deep into his brain.

 

“Yeah,” Neil whispered. “I thought she still looked alive.” Aaron smiled gently, but not out of joy, more than understanding.

 

“She was. She still was in that moment. We did it anyway, and the boy lived another four years because of it.” Neil sighed heavily, knowing where Glassman was going with this. It wasn't that he didn't understand organ donation; it was how this case was handled that made him so angry. It drove him crazy that Lane had made that decision and pressured him with his words. “You said something back then I never forgot,” Aaron murmured after a moment of silence as he put on his hat. Neil glanced sideways. “You said, ‘What if someday I can’t tell the difference between saving someone and ending someone else?’” Neil’s jaw clenched, looking away. Aaron’s features softened. “It’s still the right question, Neil. It should haunt you. That’s the point.” Neil furrowed his eyebrows. He was probably right, probably better that he was still asking himself the same question after all these years. At least it showed him that he hadn’t lost himself yet.

 

“But I’m supposed to be the one cutting,” Neil said. “I can’t go in there if I don’t believe in what I’m doing.” Glassman pressed his lips together as if, for a brief moment, he didn’t know the answer himself. Then he sighed softly.

 

“Then don’t believe in the decision,” he said. “Believe in how you’ll do it. With care, with dignity. With the weight of it on your back. That’s what makes you the surgeon you are.” Neil let those words sink in for a moment, his brows furrowed. He knew that some days his job was like that - even when he made the right decision, it sometimes felt wrong. And when he made the wrong decision, sometimes it was the right one for someone else. Maybe Aaron was right, maybe it was good that it hurt him, that he cared. That was the only way he couldn’t lose what had defined him all these years.

 

“Thank you,” he finally said simply, and Glassman gave a barely perceptible nod. He studied him for a moment before putting his bag down and sighing softly.

 

"I was going to ask you anyway." Neil raised a skeptical eyebrow as Aaron looked past him, almost to make sure no one else was listening. "How's it going with Lane? Are you guys getting along?" Neil sucked in a sharp breath and, as if by reflex, glanced over his shoulder toward the door as well. He ran a hand over his face before walking slowly over to Glassman, coming to a stop beside him. A few days after Lane had started, Neil had had the chance to ask Audrey if Glassman had known she was going to hire him - not that it would have changed anything at the time. But Neil had been oddly relieved that Glassman had only found out a day or two before Lane's first day and, Audrey had been particularly keen to point that out, had inquired how Neil was coping. The thought brought a slight smile to his face. He shrugged.

 

"It’s going ... fine. He didn't treat me any differently than anyone else. So I think that's a good thing." Glassman nodded cautiously, but his eyebrows were furrowed. He gave Neil another moment of silence before clearing his throat.

 

"That's good." Neil sighed without being able to stop himself.

 

"Yeah ..." Glassman wouldn't be Glassman if he hadn't heard the undertone in that single word. He gave Neil his trademark look - the one that let him know he'd better come clean, since he already knew it anyway. Neil sighed. "I don't agree with him on all of this. But he made me feel like I had no choice." Aaron made a thoughtful tone before looking pointedly at Neil.

 

"He's not your boss, Neil. He's your colleague. The only one you have to take orders from is Lim." He hesitated briefly. "But surely you realize that." Neil snorted and rolled his eyes, grinning. But then he simply shook his head. For a brief moment, there was silence between them. Neil could already feel the words on the tip of his tongue, but he struggled to say them. It had been ages since he'd spoken about these things.

 

"Yeah, but ... I owe him my career." Another silence, the words weighing heavily between them, as Neil sighed to relieve the pressure in his chest. "And he knows it." Aaron shook his head and rolled his eyes. He stared at Neil, his gaze intense, his lips slightly parted. Neil held his ground, but wasn't sure what he saw in it.

 

"He saved his own ass. You know that better than I do." Neil ran his hand over his face and exhaled deeply through his nose. For a moment, he kept his eyes closed, unable to bear Glassman's gaze any longer. When he opened them again, Aaron was still looking at him, but a little warmer this time, before he sighed. Neil gave a barely perceptible nod.

 

"I know," he admitted after a heartbeat. Then and now, Neil had thought a lot about why Lane had acted the way he had, and no matter how many times he twisted and turned it, he always came to the same conclusion - for himself. It had nothing to do with Neil, even if he had let him believe it for a long time, blackmailing him with it. If Neil had had the same self-confidence back then that he had today, it probably would never have come to this. And suddenly he realized that his fight wasn't about Lane, or at least not only about him. He fought his own fear that if he stood up to him, his past mistakes would define him again. Because what was the worst that could happen if Lane didn't keep his mouth shut? He wasn't afraid of consequences when it came to his job, but rather of the people he cared about. How they would react, perhaps, whether they would think differently of him if they knew about it. Maybe the problem was that he hadn't forgiven himself yet, that he was ashamed of what had happened. How could he expect people to understand him when he didn't stand behind it himself? But then ... they had always stood behind him, no matter what he told them. Audrey, Claire ... they weren't the kind of people who would judge him for something he'd done years ago. He knew it wasn’t just the mistake that haunted him, mistakes happened. He’d told residents that a hundred times. People made errors, especially under pressure. That didn’t make them unworthy, just human. And yet … he couldn’t seem to apply that same compassion to himself. They’d likely tell him it was long ago, that he’d grown since then, that everyone carried things they regretted. But this wasn’t about them. It never had been. The fear wasn’t in their judgment, it was in the mirror. The truth was, he hadn’t forgiven himself. Not even close. He'd buried it, pushed it so far down that some days he almost believed it was gone, almost. But then something - a phrase, a case, a glance too long in the glass, would bring it back like a pulse beneath a scar; always there, always beating. He had built his entire career on the idea of integrity, of owning up, of doing right by his patients no matter what. That was who he thought he was. Who he wanted to be. And yet, at the root of everything, of every accolade, every promotion, every praise, was a secret he never had the courage to own. Lane had given him a lifeline, yes, but in doing so, he had stolen from himself the chance to make it right. He hadn’t owned it, hadn’t stood there and taken the fallout like the doctor he’d always told himself he was going to be. Lane stepped in; calm, decisive, loyal in a way that felt like mercy at the time. And maybe it was. But mercy, he’d come to learn, could be a double-edged thing. Because after the dust settled, there was no cleanup for him to do. No fallout. No penance. Just silence. And then time. And then success. The hospital didn’t know. The board didn’t know. Glassman was the only one who did. And he covered it, too. The version of himself that had risen through the ranks - respected, accomplished, principled, was spotless. Untouched by the truth. But he knew. And so did Lane. And it left him with this uneasy dissonance, this feeling that he was living in a borrowed life. That the titles and the trust and the quiete pride he sometimes caught in Audrey’s or Claire’s eyes didn’t really belong to him. Not entirely. He had become everything he once hoped to be. And yet … he hadn’t. Not in the way that mattered. Maybe that was the part that hurt the most. He wasn’t afraid of losing respect. He was afraid he’d never earned it in the first place. And maybe that was why he kept it hidden. Not to protect his reputation. Not even to protect his friends. But because the moment he spoke it aloud, it would be real. And once it was real, he’d have to face the person he had been, and the question of whether he’d ever truly become someone else.

 

"He's nobody, Neil," Glassman said after a while, and Neil straightened, no longer crushed by the weight on his shoulders. "He can't take away what you've built. Who you've become, no one can take that away." Neil nodded, a part of him beginning to understand.

 

"I know."

 

****

 

The nurse handed Neil the list of people who would receive Josh's organs. A quick glance at it nipped all his doubts in the bud. Five cities, five lives, five people, including children, elderly people, probably mothers and fathers, who were getting a new chance at life because Josh had to give his. Neil hadn't wanted to play God with Josh, but in doing so, he would be doing the same for these five people and their families. It was a simple truth - in surgery, pain and joy, life and death, often lay so close together as to be almost indistinguishable. This was the job he had chosen; many years ago, and every single day since. It would still feel wrong in the operating room itself, he was sure of that, but if he could turn off his own heart for a while, it was easy to see the point. He sighed and nodded before heading to the washroom. Shaun was already scrubbing in and looked up briefly.

"Ready?" Neil asked, probably more to himself than Shaun, but Shaun just nodded before turning around and walking into the operating room. Neil watched him for a moment as he casually stepped onto the operating table and wondered what it would be like to be in Shaun's shoes. Such decisions always came easily to him, rationally, statistically. And he had to admit, he was one of the best surgeons he had ever trained. And then there was Claire, who had a bigger heart than anyone he had known before. A heart so big that it sometimes blocked her own path to happiness or blinded her view of certain clarity. And she, she was so much better than all the others he had ever trained. They were both so unique in their own way, such brilliant doctors, that Neil sometimes doubted himself, didn't know if he could keep up with them much longer. Heart and brain, both so different, both sometimes wanting exactly the same thing, sometimes the exact opposite. But without either, a body could‘nt function, and Neil was no exception. He sighed, Believe in how you'll do it. With care, with dignity.

At that moment, the door opened a little, and Neil wouldn't have had to look up to know who had entered. He could already feel her presence.

 

"You're really going to do it?" she asked, but her voice wasn't accusatory, yet there was a hint of surprise in it that she had probably tried to hide. Neil glanced at her briefly, their eyes met, and he turned away.

 

"Lane gave the order," he said, because it was easier than describing the battle that had been going on inside him for the past few minutes. He didn't want to explain to Claire, the heart, why the brain had taken priority this time.

 

"You were so against it. What's changed?" Her voice was still not accusatory, and when Neil turned to her, her gaze was warm. Neil would probably never get used to how his heart beat a little faster every time she looked at him like she did at that moment.

 

"I don't have to agree. Just have to do my job." Claire nodded cautiously, but didn't look away.

 

"Is that really all this is?" Neil sometimes hated how easy it seemed for her to see through his facade. But most of the time, he hated more that he even put on that facade with her.

 

"It's not worth fighting over." She took a step closer, but not close enough that it blurred the line between personal and professional.

 

"That's not like you. You don't let anyone tell you what to do. Never." Neil gave a fake smile and reached for his surgical cap.

 

"Claire. Josh is already lying on the table, what do you expect me to do?" She was silent for a moment, her eyes flickering over his face as if trying to find something he didn't want to reveal.

 

"You don't owe Lane anything, you know. If he's making this personal - " Neil shook his head, almost too quickly, and looked away.

 

"It's not personal." Claire nodded slowly, but still didn't seem to believe him. Neil sighed softly as his gaze fell into the operating room, where Shaun was already standing over Josh. "Can you take this to Josh's mother?" he asked, nodding at the slip of paper with the recipients' names on it. Claire followed his movement and reached for the note. She only needed to glance at it before raising an eyebrow.

 

"Me? I think I'm the last person she wants to see." Neil gave her a small smile and shook his head. Every time he delivered bad news to a family member, he also avoided showing himself to them after that. He knew his face was seared into their minds and didn't want to add to the pain.

 

"If I really thought that, I wouldn't send you." He took a step closer, and her features automatically softened a little. "I think I'm the last person she wants to see," he added through pursed lips, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. Legally, they had the right to go ahead with the surgery, but Neil had promised her she'd be given more time, and now he was the one breaking that promise. Claire furrowed her brows, but this time she swallowed the words on the tip of her tongue and simply tilted her head.

 

"I'll do it." Neil nodded slowly, giving her a look that thanked her when he didn't say the words. Claire sighed softly.

 

"I'll do it too." Their eyes met again. The only thing he wanted at that moment was to kiss her, like so many times when she had stood opposite him in the operating room and they had lacked the words or the strength. For a brief moment, Neil's gaze flickered into the operating room, and naive as he was, he considered whether it was within his capabilities or whether he wasn't becoming too careless. But Shaun was looking directly at him through the glass, and he exhaled loudly, shaking his head. With a final nod in Claire's direction, he turned around and turned off his heart to do what his brain told him to do.

 

---

 

Chapter 13: Keep going, because you can

 

---

 

Four in the morning, the sun was already rising, but the world was silent. Claire loved this time of day, when she felt as if it was only her and the sound of her feet on the wet ground beneath her. She couldn't even remember what it was like to live without that feeling that jogging gave her - free, calm, fulfilling. Even without Neil, she enjoyed running the routes he had shown her right at the beginning, sometimes through the middle of the city, sometimes so far out that she didn't see anyone for what felt like an eternity. She came to a stop, her heart pumping blood through her body at record speed, her breathing heavy, and Claire felt alive. A small smile played on her lips as she put her foot on the bench and stretched her muscles. At some point, it started to help. The walking, the running, not as if she wanted to run away from anything, not even as if she wanted to go anywhere. Just running, moving her body. She had never considered herself the kind of person who would go jogging before her shift even started, who would get up early to step outside into the cold before work, to exercise her body before the endless hours at the hospital had even begun. But he had shown her how good it felt sometimes to just let go.

 

Claire tightens the laces of her sneakers and glances over at him. He's already stretching, quiet and focused, like this is routine. It probably is. It feels strange to her, standing next to him, outside the hospital, outside of work. He seems different, in a way, even though his gaze is the same. Something has changed in the way she looks at him since he found her in the stairwell. She had been ashamed when she noticed him following her, but after just a few seconds, she had let herself go, and somehow that had helped. She had expected to feel strange after this; having a nervous breakdown in front of her boss wasn't exactly something to be proud of. But she doesn't; he gives her no reason to. He hasn't mentioned this moment again and she's glad about that. Sometimes he gives her a quick, warm smile and it makes her feel good. But this was different. He offered her the 'Neil' as soon as they'd changed clothes and it is strange. Like he's a different person, warmer than Dr. Melendez. He looks over at her and she blushes when he catches her staring. She shakes it off and nods. He says nothing, gives her that quick smile and starts running. They start without a word, falling into an easy pace. Neil runs like he's been doing it forever and Claire is almost ashamed of how quickly her body wants to give up. Her muscles protest with each step, her breath uneven in the cool air. It’s been days since she moved her body for anything other than survival. But she keeps going, keeps up. He doesn’t comment. Doesn’t glance over or slows down for her. And somehow, that helps. She’s not being handled, not being watched. He’s just here. Grief is still there, pressing down on her chest like it has since the funeral. But it’s ... quieter tonight. Not gone, just not screaming. She risks a glance at Neil. He doesn’t notice. He looks relaxed, his gaze fixed straight ahead, like he’s somewhere deep inside himself. She wonders what possessed him to encourage her to do this, but she had also wondered why he had even given her a second glance when he saw her crying. She realizes now that he has a bigger heart than he lets on. A corner approaches and they round it in sync. The trees overhead form a kind of tunnel, the street bathed in soft streetlight. It’s beautiful in a way she almost doesn’t want to notice, because it feels wrong, to feel anything warm right now. But she does. There’s a warmth inside her, like something locked tight has shifted just enough to let air in. She glances at him again, longer this time.

“I didn’t know you ran this much,” she says, her voice low, carried by breath. He doesn’t look at her, just lets a hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

“I run every day, if I can.”

“For your health?” she teases, just barely.

“Sanity,” he says simply. And that resonates. She nods, mostly to herself.

“I get it.“

After a while, they slow to a walk near a small park, their breaths heavy but steady. Claire rolls her shoulders, tugging her sweatshirt sleeve down as a breeze brushes past them. Neil walks beside her in silence, his hands on his hips, gaze angled toward the dark sky like he’s still calibrating something. The tension in her body lingers, but it’s different now, more physical than emotional. Her chest doesn’t feel as tight, her thoughts aren’t quite as messy. She glances at him again, this time openly. His face is flushed, his hair slightly damp at the temples, and he’s breathing hard but relaxed. There’s nothing remarkable about the way he looks, and yet, something stirs in her chest. That warmth again. That second of something she hasn’t felt in what feels like years, safety, maybe. Or just him. Neil catches her looking. He doesn’t say anything right away, but one of his brows lifts slowly, a familiar dry amusement in his expression.

"What?" she asks, her voice defensive by reflex, but her lips twitch upward before she can stop them.

"I was just checking to see if you were still alive," he says, straight-faced. Claire rolls her eyes, but a small smile does creep onto her lips. She says nothing for a moment, just looks at him. His gaze is intense, and something about it makes her stomach flutter.

"I'm fine." Dr. Melendez, Neil, nods and grimaces slightly.

“Then we can finally start running for real. If we keep going at this speed, our next shift will start before we get back to the hospital.” Claire tries to swallow the grin, but the tone in his voice is more sarcastic than she's used to, and she can't help it.

“You’re a terrible support system.”

“I never claimed to be supportive,” he says dryly. “I just said I’d run.” Claire shakes her head, but the corner of her mouth stays curved. The tension between them, that strange quiet weight, shifts slightly, getting comfortable. They keep walking.

“Thanks for not asking questions,” Claire says after a few paces. Neil doesn’t answer right away.

“Didn’t think you needed questions tonight.” She glances at him again. And this time, he looks back. There’s nothing romantic in it, not overtly. But there’s recognition. Like they’re seeing each other differently for the first time, and neither one is quite ready to name what it means. Claire looks away first. But the warmth stays. She can't handle it, a feeling different from the pain or numbness she's felt for the past few weeks. Her heart is still pounding fast and color is rising in her cheeks. She shakes her head, takes a step forward, and glances at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Race you to the corner." Neil blinks, caught off guard.

"Seriously?"

"Unless you're afraid I'll beat you," she calls over her shoulder, and then she's already off, feet hitting the pavement in a sudden burst of energy. Her body feels good, charged, she's running so fast that her footsteps bounce loudly off the ground and she feels like she's almost taking off. Claire laughs, actually laughs, as she hears his footsteps pick up behind her. It's not graceful, the way she runs now; she's already tired and her legs are heavy, but it feels good to move fast, to shake off the last of the ache in her chest. To feel something that isn't pain. She sees his shadow next to her and can't help but laugh again.

"This all you got?" he asks and Claire only runs faster. She hears his quiet laughter next to her and her heart warms. She keeps running and for a moment nothing else matters.

 

Claire smiled as she thought back to that and the many other times he'd picked her up as a matter of course to go running with her. As if it were the safe gray area between work and private life, as if it weren't a boundary crossing, as if it were nothing more than that - running. But it was so much more, then as now. Back then, it hadn't felt as if anything was changing between them, but as if she was simply changing. Thawing out, becoming the person buried beneath grief again, being free. But something had also changed between them in that moment, she hadn't understood until much later. Only when she looked back on those moments did she notice how he had slowly crept into her heart, as if he had every right to be there. And perhaps she was also glad that she hadn't realized what that meant until so late, because otherwise it might have frightened her and she would have withdrawn, hiding from the light he had to offer her. Claire had spent most of her life waiting for the catch. The too-good-to-be-true, the hidden strings, the part where the warmth turned cold and the laughter stopped without warning. So when it came to Neil, her instinct had been to brace herself, even in the quiet moments when he made her feel like maybe she didn’t have to.

Their bubble had started out as necessity. A secret carved out of the hospital walls, protected by whispers and the sounds of footsteps outside the door. It should’ve felt risky. It should’ve scared her. But it didn’t, not in the way she expected. Instead, it felt safe. Like being underwater where no one could reach her. Like a place where she didn’t have to explain why she was hesitant or why she sometimes flinched at happiness as if it might disappear the second she reached for it. And she did reach for it. Quietly. Slowly. She started looking forward to those moments that belonged only to them. The light in his eyes when their hands brushed at the nurses’ station. The way he tilted his head when he asked if she was staying late, his voice perfectly casual, but his meaning anything but. The press of his chest against her back when he held her so tightly she forgot how to breathe, how he wrapped himself around her like he was trying to shield her from the world, and maybe from herself, too.

The bubble meant more to Claire than she could explain - not just because it sheltered what they had, but because it sheltered her. It was a space untouched by expectation or history. A place where no one needed her to be the brilliant resident, or the grieving daughter, or the woman who always kept it together. Inside that bubble, she wasn’t being watched or judged or asked to prove herself. She was just … Claire. And he saw her. That was the difference. Neil didn’t look at her like she was about to break or like she owed the world something for every ounce of light she carried despite the shadows. He just looked. Calm, warm, present. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to care for someone as quietly and deeply as he did. In that bubble, breathing felt softer, easier. Time slowed. It was where she could let her guard down and not flinch. Where she could breathe without bracing for the next wave of disappointment. The world outside could be brutal, unforgiving and cold, but in the quiet of his apartment, in the press of his hand against her back, in the warm silence that filled the space between them, she found something close to peace. She needed it more than she wanted to admit. Not because she was weak, but because she’d spent so long being strong alone. The bubble wasn’t an escape - it was a balm. A place where she could take off the armor she’d worn for years and not feel exposed. Not feel in danger of losing herself. Sometimes, after long shifts filled with loss and impossible choices, she’d curl up beside him and feel the weight in her chest ease just a little. Sometimes he didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. His presence was enough. It grounded her, reminded her that she didn’t have to carry everything on her own. There were nights she clung to the quiet like it was the only thing keeping her together. The rest of the world could be cruel and loud and demanding, but within those four walls, she was allowed softness. Allowed stillness. Allowed joy. It wasn’t just the thrill of being with him in secret, though that thrill existed, tangled with laughter and stolen kisses and the rush of wanting what they weren’t allowed to have. It was deeper than that. It was theirs, uncomplicated by outside opinions, untouched by the world that had taken so much from her already. The bubble gave her room to believe that love could be slow and safe and real. That not everything beautiful had to be fleeting. And as the days passed, as she let herself melt further into that warmth, she started to think maybe she didn’t have to protect herself so fiercely anymore. Maybe, for once, what she had wouldn’t disappear the second she let herself trust it. She smiled slightly, she hadn’t meant to fall this hard.

 

At first, she told herself it was just comfort. A space to breathe. A person who saw her without asking her to be anyone but herself. But then she caught herself watching the clock during rounds, counting the minutes to see him again. She found herself choosing the longer hallway, just to pass him. Found herself smiling before she even heard his footsteps behind her. And slowly, painfully slowly, she began to trust that feeling. That soft, persistent joy that curled up in her chest like it had always been there, just waiting to be acknowledged. It scared her, how natural it felt. How much she wanted it. But the more time she spent in that secret space with Neil, the more the fear started to loosen its grip. He made her laugh when she forgot how. He held her, when she needed to be held. He listened, really listened, without ever trying to fix her. And in those private moments, when it was just him and her and the warmth between their voices, she let herself believe that maybe she didn’t have to run from happiness anymore. Maybe it didn’t have to come at a cost. She wasn’t naive - she knew what they risked. She knew how fragile this all was, how quickly it could all fall apart if someone opened the wrong door or saw something they weren’t supposed to. But she also knew the way he looked at her. And she knew how it felt to be wanted not just for a night, but for who she was - messy past and all. She still waited for the catch sometimes. That old instinct hadn’t disappeared. But more and more, it quieted. Because when he touched her, when he whispered her name in that voice he never used with anyone else, she felt something she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time. Safe. Wanted. Loved. Claire sighed and shook herself before heading back. It wasn't so lonely anymore, returning to her own apartment, even if she was alone. She was no longer stepping into the emptiness that reminded her of everything she had lost. It was simply a place where she could be alone for a while, and she didn't want to give that up anymore, because some days she needed this retreat. Because the bubble had cracks. And some days, Claire felt every one of them. Because no matter how soft his touch felt when they were alone, out there, in the hospital, he was her boss. And she was still a resident. That part didn’t disappear just because he knew how to make her laugh with a single lift of his brow. There were days he made decisions she didn’t agree with. Chose treatments she wouldn’t have. Shut down an idea of hers during rounds with the same calm finality he used with everyone else. And she had to stand there, swallow her pride, and nod like it didn’t sting more coming from him. It wasn’t that she expected special treatment. She didn’t want favoritism. But it was hard, so hard, to separate the man who whispered reassurances against her neck from the one who told her “No” in front of a team of surgeons. And she couldn’t show it. Couldn’t flinch. Couldn’t let anyone see the shift in her eyes, the flush in her throat, the way her hands clenched tighter around the chart. Because if anyone suspected, it was over. So she bottled it. Tucked the frustration deep inside, right next to the fear of being caught and the longing to reach for his hand in broad daylight. It made her tired. Not of him, but of the dance, of the performance. Of being one version of herself in public, and another entirely in the quiet moments they stole like secrets. There were nights she wanted to ask him, Why did you shut me down in the OR like that? Nights she wanted to fight with him like she would with anyone else, with all the fire and honesty she had. But something always held her back. Maybe it was fear. That if she pulled too hard on the wrong thread, the whole thing would crash infront of her. Maybe it was just that she didn’t know how to be both his partner and his subordinate at the same time without losing something of herself in the process. Because even love, even safety, came with complications. And no matter how close they were in private, there was always that space between them in the hospital. A reminder that until she was no longer a resident, she would always have to be careful. Always have to walk the line between those feelings and professionalism, between devotion and restraint.

There were moments when things would flare between them, when she couldn't hold back. Especially when it came to cases that were particularly close to her heart. Maya had been in the hospital for weeks, but her symptoms still hadn't worsened enough. Claire had watched one tray be carried out of her room completely untouched, then the next, and no one would say anything. Dr. Lim said she'd take care of everything, and Claire tried to accept that, avoiding walking past her room or talking to the nurses about her condition. But she couldn't help herself, and eventually she grabbed the medical file and walked into Neil's office with it.

 

"She's getting worse," she said, and Neil gave her an almost weary look, as if he were tired of chewing over the same topic over and over again. He knew immediately who she was talking about.

 

"I saw the labs," was all he said, and Claire just rolled her eyes. She'd been taken off the case two weeks ago, not because she'd done anything wrong - at least that wasn't the official reason, but Dr. Lim and Neil had felt it was the right thing to do.

 

"Then you know her heart rate is dropping," Claire pressed. "We're past the point of waiting." Neil sighed and rubbed his temples. She knew he was tired of talking to her about it; she'd brought it up time and time again.

 

"Claire ..."

 

"She almost fainted again during rounds," Claire cut in. "She's barely responsive. And her mother is still refusing to acknowledge the truth." Neil exhaled, closing the file in front of him.

 

"We need more leverage before we escalate." Claire let out a humorless laugh. She still hadn't forgotten that a few days ago he'd performed an operation he'd been anything but confident about. She didn't understand why he couldn't act the same way with Maya.

 

“Leverage? She’s a kid who’s starving to death. How much more do you need?” Neil watched her for a moment before exhaling heavily. And then there was that look in his eyes again, the one he always got when she got worked up about a case like this. Almost as if he was deliberately trying to shield her from it so she wouldn’t get too entangled. But Claire wasn’t the kind of person who didn’t want to get too deeply involved. She was already in it, and she wasn’t going to let herself get out.

 

“If we push for a psych hold now and it gets denied, her mother could pull her from the hospital. Then we lose any chance of helping her.” Claire’s fists clenched at her sides. She held Neil’s gaze, but her heart was pounding painfully fast against her ribcage.

 

“So we just wait until she codes?” Neil slowly stood up and looked past her. For a brief moment, she saw more of Neil in his face than of Dr. Melendez, and even though that usually calmed her, in that moment it made her angry. She knew he was just trying to appease her so she'd drop it.

 

“We keep working on the mother,” Neil insisted. “I've been trying to get a social worker involved, someone who can mediate.” Claire shook her head.

 

“That could take days.” Neil gave a barely perceptible shrug. His gaze remained warm as he took a step toward her and shoved his hands in his pockets.

 

“And a psych hold could take just as long if we don't have enough evidence to back it up.” Claire let out a sharp breath, her fingers curled tightly together.

 

“This isn't about evidence. This is about doing the right thing.” Neil's expression flickered, just for a second, but it was enough. Claire exhaled heavily and looked up at the ceiling. She hated it when she was so frustrated, when she felt like a wall was building up between them that she couldn't cross, no matter how hard she tried. When she looked back at him, his gaze was warm and everything inside Claire clenched.

 

"What is this about?" he asked so softly that it no longer had anything to do with professionalism. Claire gritted her teeth, her eyes flickering over his face as she considered how she should respond. "It's me. You can talk to me. You know that." The air was knocked out of Claire's lungs as she involuntarily took a step toward him. The tension between them wasn't just about the patient anymore. It was about trust, about how they saw each other, how they worked together, how much this case was pushing them both. He knew what she was concerned about, knew her past, but he didn't know why it was so important to her to stand up for Maya, and no matter how hard she tried, the words always caught in her throat when she tried to explain herself. She looked away again and sighed.

 

"I get why you're being careful," she admitted, glancing sideways at him. "I know there's a process, that we have to do things the right way. But watching her ..." She shook her head. "It's just hard to turn that part of me off." His features softened a little, and he gave a barely perceptible nod.

 

"I'm not asking you to turn it off. I know why this case is getting to you." Claire exhaled heavily and met his gaze. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and she tilted her head.

 

"Then why does it feel like you're fighting me on this?" Neil pressed his lips together, hesitating before answering.

 

“Because if we do this wrong, we lose her.” His voice was steady, but there was a bit of exhaustion beneath it. “I know you want to fight for her. I do too. But I can’t let emotions drive the decision.” Claire nodded slowly. She didn’t like it, but she understood.

 

“You think I’m too emotionally involved,” she stated skeptically. It wasn’t a question; she already knew that, and Neil knew it too. He exhaled through his nose.

 

“I think you care,” Neil corrected. “And that’s not a bad thing. It’s what makes you a great doctor. But in this case, it’s making you see things in absolutes.”

 

“Like you did with Josh?” she asked, immediately noticing the slight twist in his face, which he quickly hid again. He just nodded slightly and took a step back, his gaze a little colder again. Claire knew the boy's case had affected him, even though he'd later stood by his decision when he'd confronted his mother again. "So what's the plan?" Neil held her gaze for a whole moment too long before shaking his head. Claire knew that look - he had no idea himself.

 

"Claire, Maya is no longer your patient. She'll be taken care of, and - " She hadn't listened to the rest and left his office. It had been yesterday, and it hadn't left her mind since. She couldn't help but be angry with him, and that was the problem. She couldn't be angry with him because he didn't share her professional views, but she couldn't turn it off either. Claire closed her apartment door and checked the time. She still had a good hour until her next shift. She tossed her key onto the dresser next to the door and hesitated for a moment when she saw the other key lying there. Neil had given them to her two weeks ago, quite casually, as if it meant nothing. She had never used it before and didn't know if she ever would. At least, she didn't plan on going into his apartment when he wasn't there. But the sight of that key on her shelf triggered something in her. It made everything between them more real, more meaningful. The fact that he had given it to her without a big gesture, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if she had every right to be in his apartment, did something to her too. She pressed her lips together, but the small smile crept onto her lips anyway. The kind of smile she tried to hide because it seemed so childish, so naive, but felt so right.

 

****

 

It was still early, his shift hadn't started yet, but Neil still had some documents to go through. With his lukewarm coffee in his hand, he made his way to his office, but before he got there, he noticed someone on the balcony. It took him a moment to recognize the person, his eyes still heavy from a more or less sleepless night. Neil raised his eyebrows and hesitated for a brief moment before opening the door and stepping out.

"You're early," he greeted, and Alex slowly turned his head. His face barely moved, but he leaned a little more on the railing.

 

"Still here," he corrected as Neil came to a stop beside him. Alex's hand was clutching a coffee mug, but his gaze remained forward. Neil did the same, sipping from his mug to allow the silence between them.

 

"Long night?" Alex made a barely audible noise before his gaze fell on his mug, as if he'd just noticed he was holding it. Then he sighed.

 

"Something like that." Neil nodded, not expecting him to continue the thought. It had been a while since he'd seen Alex like this; in the last few weeks, he'd recovered and been more himself, but this morning he seemed depressed, and Neil didn't want to force him to talk. "Why are you here already?" Neil gave him a quick glance before shrugging.

 

"The paperwork isn't getting any less," he said, more or less truthfully. Normally, he had a system and was never behind on paperwork. But lately, he'd been putting it off, avoiding staying at work later or arriving earlier than necessary. Whenever Claire stayed over, he made sure to make it last as long as possible. As good as that had been for him, his work had suffered. However, she hadn't spent the last few nights with him, so now he had no other choice. Alex snorted and looked out at the city slowly waking up.

 

"Are you going to the fundraiser tomorrow?" he asked after a moment of silence, and Neil glanced at him, noticing the tone in his words. Neil frowned.

 

"Yeah, I even have the honor of giving a speech." Alex chuckled at Neil's sarcastic remark and turned slightly toward him. "What about you?" He shrugged, but Neil could see in his eyes that there was more to it.

 

"Feels like I have to." Neil watched him for a moment, waiting for him to elaborate, but he didn't. Neil sipped his coffee and turned away from him again.

 

"You don't have to." Alex nodded and turned away as well. They didn't say anything for a while, lost in their own thoughts. Neil had initially struggled with whether to go to the event, even more so when Audrey had asked him to give a speech. He could understand why Alex might be having the same thoughts now. It would bring back the memories of that evening, which it was supposed to, and Neil knew how hard Alex was fighting to put it all behind him.

 

"Won't almost everyone from this hospital be there?" Neil snorted a short laugh before Alex gave him a skeptical look.

 

"Of course not. This is a hospital; we can't all just take a day off." Alex chuckled slightly, but it didn't seem particularly sincere, his eyebrows furrowed tightly.

 

"Why are you going?" Neil shrugged as he looked out at the city. He'd long since come to terms with it and even saw some good in it.

 

"I have the time. And I've been invited. Not to mention that my speech is too good for no one to hear." Alex laughed softly and shook his head. Neil hadn't actually prepared, but Audrey had been right about one thing - he had no problem speaking in front of others and saw no point in preparing for it. He was sure the words would come to him when the time came. "Why don't you want to go?" he asked after another moment of silence, hearing Alex sigh before turning to him. Alex shrugged passively.

 

"I've spent the last few weeks putting all of this behind me as best I can. Now dealing with the victims again ... I just don't know if I'm ready." Neil nodded, but didn't say anything for a moment, instead taking another sip of his coffee, which had since gone completely cold. "Is that stupid?" Neil frowned, but when he tried to catch his eye, Alex turned away.

 

"No, it's not." He nodded, but still didn't seem convinced, so Neil sighed softly. "I didn't want to go at first either. For fear of the ceiling dropping down on my head again. Is that stupid?" Alex's gaze landed on him again, this time reflecting surprise. For a moment, he seemed unsure what to say, or whether Neil had meant it, because he said nothing. "The chances of the same thing happening again are virtually vanishingly small. I know that. But a small part of me thinks, 'If you go there, you'll never come back.'" The corners of Neil's mouth curled up in a sarcastic smile before a heavy gulp of air escaped from his nose.

 

"And what are you doing about it?" Alex had now turned fully toward him, his eyebrows furrowed sympathetically. Neil grimaced.

 

"I'm ignoring the voice. And I'm still going." For a moment, there was silence between them, and Neil could see Alex's mind working. Neil didn't talk about the events at the brewery much anymore, really only in connection with the charity event. His mind was usually too busy to dwell on what had happened, and he knew that if he did, it would push him into an abyss from which he wouldn't know how to climb back up. "I think all of us carry things like that with us. Sometimes they're less intrusive, sometimes more. You just have to find a way to deal with them." Alex pressed his lips together, but before he could say anything, Neil shook his head. "I still have those dreams sometimes, when ..." He interrupted himself. He always had those dreams when he was alone, when Claire wasn't staying with him. They weren't as vivid as the first few nights afterward; often, even while he was dreaming, he was already aware that he was only dreaming. But it was always the same. Him on the operating table or in the hospital bed, while all his friends stood around him, crying. He repeated over and over again that he was fine, that they didn't need to worry, but they never heard him. "What I'm getting at," he looked directly at Alex this time. "It's okay that you feel what you feel. But you're still here, Alex. You still have the chance to feel all these things, so don't run away from them. Embrace it. And eventually, things will get better. Keep going, because you can.“ He watched Alex nod slowly, the weight in his shoulders still visible but maybe shifted, just slightly. Enough for now. Neil let out a quiet breath, but the words he’d just spoken and the meaning behind it lingered in his chest. Keep going, because you can. He meant it. Meant it for Alex. Meant it for himself too, if he was being honest.

Because that was the thing no one liked to admit about survival - it wasn't always a gift. Sometimes it was just a fact. He survived. He woke up after he’d been hit. He stayed until he was forced out of it. He remembered the wreckage, the silence after the screaming stopped. Remembered thinking why me more than once, not in self-pity, but in confusion. As if the universe had rolled dice and he just happened to land on the number that lived. Sometimes, moving forward felt like betrayal, of the ones who didn’t make it. Of the ones they couldn’t save. He used to believe God had a plan. As a child, he’d knelt beside his bed every night, small hands pressed together, eyes closed tight, as if squeezing them harder made the prayer go deeper. He believed, back then. Believed in purpose, in grace, in the idea that good things came to those who were good. But death didn’t work that way. He had seen too many good people die for no reason. Too many coin tosses with blood on both sides. He didn’t believe anymore, not in the same way. Not in a God who chose who lived and who didn’t. Still, sometimes he caught himself wondering. Why me? He wasn’t looking for divine answers. But there had to be something. Some reason he was still here. Some reason he woke up every day with breath in his lungs when others didn’t. Maybe it was for moments like this. Being with someone like Alex, who still had time to turn things around. Maybe it was the small things, tiny hinges that swung big doors. A patient who lived because Neil didn’t stop pushing. A colleague who stayed, because Neil noticed. Or maybe it was just life. Chaotic, cruel, unfair life. And all he could do was live it well, even if he didn’t know what well meant anymore. But not moving forward, that was its own kind of death. One that crept in quietly and made a home in his ribs. He saw the beginning of that in Alex’s eyes, the hesitation, the guilt wrapped in grief. It was a look Neil had seen in mirrors before. He would never be able to understand, but if he could pull someone back from that edge, even just a little, he would. That was the part of the job no one trained him for; carrying people not just in operating rooms, but out of the abysses that the job brought with it.

 

"Well, seems like I'll have to pick out my best suit," Alex finally said, making Neil chuckle. He nodded slightly.

 

"Seems like it." Alex watched him for a moment out of the corner of his eye, and the air between them became a little lighter, a little more liberated. Neil's thoughts drifted to everything that had happened since the earthquake, or maybe because of it. He began to feel bad because the small voice inside him was grateful. This part of him - some stubborn, rusted piece left over from the boy who used to pray, still looked for meaning. Still wondered if some things were part of something bigger. Not fate, exactly. But ... something. And lately, when that wondering surfaced, it always circled back to Claire. He hadn't planned to tell her about his feelings. He probably never would have, if he was being honest, not for a long time, maybe not ever. There were lines, there was timing, the illusion that time was endless; there was always some reason not to say what he felt. But then the earthquake happened. Everything fell apart. And suddenly the only thing louder than the fear was the thought of her. The need to be with her. It wasn’t just adrenaline, it wasn’t about dying. It was about living, and what he might miss if he kept hiding. He didn’t believe in signs, not anymore. But sometimes he wondered. Was that the point? Was that why he was still here? Not to be a hero. Not to save the world. But to give her back what she had given him from the moment she had crept into his heart. Hope. It was that moment when he heard her laughter. Alex and him shared a brief, almost reflexive glance before they turned around. Claire and Morgan walked into the Residents Lounge and there was that laughter he had already fallen in love with, even before he had fallen for her in every other way. Carefree, a little too loud and so warm it made her eyes light up. Almost as if on autopilot, Neil opened the door, just in time to notice Alex following him, and stepped inside, although Morgan and Claire didn't seem to notice. The two were still laughing boisterously while they made themselves comfortable on two chairs. Neil raised his eyebrow.

 

"Morning." At that moment, the two looked up, almost a little too quickly, as if they'd just been caught in the act.

 

"What's there to giggle about?" Park asked, catching both of their eyes. They exchanged a quick glance before Morgan shrugged.

 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Alex raised an eyebrow, and Neil noticed a flash of emotion on his face, but it vanished so quickly that Neil couldn't interpret it. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked in the direction of Claire, who, however, simply shrugged with a slight smile and turned away. Neil exhaled softly as he turned around to refill the coffee. It fell silent between them, and suddenly Neil realized how early it still was. His limbs were heavy, not yet fit for work, and his eyes were burning. Neil was normally a morning person, but the last few weeks were still weighing on him. Even though he was physically well again, just as fit as he had been before the earthquake, he couldn't necessarily say the same about his mental health. His sleep problems were becoming more and more frequent, even though he would never admit it. He knew he was being too hard on himself; a few days off would probably do him good. If he was honest, he'd been thinking about using his vacation days for a while, even if it was just for a long weekend. He'd always thought things usually looked worse than they were when he saw them up close. Talking to Claire about his short trip to Koh Lanta had given him the idea, and even though he knew he didn't have the time to go back to the sea or the mountains, he liked the idea more and more - of being able to switch his mind off for a while like he had back then, or maybe even finding out if he was even still capable of that. He remembered how free he'd been back then, the kind of person he'd been, and even though he was glad he wasn't like that anymore, he sometimes wondered if a small part of that was still inside him. Maybe he could visit Gaby and move on from there, somewhere where there was no noise, no patients, no pain, no loss. Where Neil could switch his mind off, maybe read a book or go fishing. Maybe he could spend his days alone in the woods or on the coast.

 

The coffee was brewing next to him, and his gaze wandered around the room and, as so often before, almost reflexively, landed on Claire, who was stretching extensively. The butterflies in his stomach made themselves known again as the corners of his mouth almost automatically turned up. He looked away before the others noticed, but his mind remained stuck on one thought. Maybe he could travel with Claire. He would probably miss her anyway if she wasn't there, he had to admit to himself. Try as he might, he couldn't suppress the grin and instead hid it behind his cup of coffee, which, although still far too hot, was the best place to hide his thoughts. His chest warmed, even if it had nothing to do with the drink, but with a certainty he had hidden from for far too long. She was the piece of the puzzle he had been missing for so long. Neil heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and risked a glance over his shoulder. Claire stood up, her gaze betraying nothing. Neil turned around again and exhaled softly through his nose. As much as he liked to imagine what it would be like to hike through the woods with Claire, or go swimming on the beach, eat breakfast somewhere in a small, romantic café, or watch the sun disappear into the waves, he knew that in the end it was nothing more than that - an imagination. An idea of ​​his ideal life. But the reality was different. At least for a few more months. Surely, it was only a small price to pay to have her by his side. But a part of him was still skeptical, not because he wasn't sure he wanted it, that he wanted her, but because he couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel yet. The time of her residency suddenly seemed infinitely long to him. Claire moved toward the counter, reaching for a mug just as he shifted slightly to the side to make space for her. Their arms nearly touched. He could feel the ghost of it anyway, that subtle awareness of her presence, the unspoken rhythm they somehow always fell into. Claire poured the herself some of the coffee. No words. Just the simple, shared act of standing side by side, the silence between them never uncomfortable.

Neil still felt the attraction clearly, almost ridiculously strongly. He'd thought it would subside eventually, now that they knew they weren't alone in what they felt. But it hadn't. His body no longer obeyed the laws of physics, only hers. His heart was pounding so loudly he almost laughed. Maybe it was because they were still doing something forbidden according to the hospital's rules, or maybe it was just her. It felt childish, in the best possible way. He was nuts about her, head over heels. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly upward. When had this happened? When had he let himself fall so hard? He'd thought he'd known what he was getting into when he'd come back to her in the bar, or when he'd kissed her even though his mind had begged him not to. The illusion that he was in control had kept him safe. But the truth was different, more dangerous, sweeter, and unchangeable. Neil had never been in control, from the moment he sat down next to her in the stairwell, intent only on comforting her. He had let go of the reins, and everything that happened after that had no longer been in his power. Neil glanced sideways, just for a second. She didn't look as tired as the other two, and as he probably felt; her face was alert, her body somehow energized. A small smile played on her lips, the kind of smile she mostly didn't notice herself. The kind of smile that, despite everything she'd been through, still lit up her face every day. The kind of smile that took Neil's breath away every time.

She was still so beautiful. Still somehow looking like morning suited her. She caught him looking. He should have looked away faster, like he always did when they weren't alone, afraid that someone would see in his eyes how deeply he was already falling for her. But he didn't look away. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment her smile widened, just the slightest; quiet, private, but it radiated into her eyes. Neil's lips parted slightly, as if the words on the tip of his tongue were trying to slip out. The warm shiver that ran down his spine made him look at her lips as if by reflex, just for a heartbeat. How lucky he was that he was allowed to kiss her. That he could know what it was like to feel her hands on his body, how it felt when her pulse quickened at the touch of his lips, the sounds she made when his hands traveled down her body, feeling every single inch of her skin beneath his fingertips. How lucky he was that she allowed him to see her like this - when she opened her eyes next to him for the first time after a nearly sleepless night, when she giggled almost nervously, when he kept insisting how incredibly beautiful she was; because that's what she was.

Claire looked away first and turned around, controlled and planned, as if this was all coming so much easier to her than to him. The door opened, pulling Neil out of his trance. Shaun stepped quickly through the door and looked at Neil expectantly. Neil glanced at his watch and sighed softly.

 

"Good to see we're all here now," he greeted Shaun with a slight nod, but, as expected, Shaun barely reacted. He went to his briefcase and pulled out the relevant medical file. "You're all with me today. You make rounds and let me know if anything is out of the ordinary." Neil skillfully ignored Morgan's eye roll and Alex's slight sigh as he placed the file on the table. "This afternoon, you will all be assisting me." A slight smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, but he tried not to let it show as he glanced back and forth between the now-brightening faces.

 

"What is it, boss?" Morgan asked with a slight twinkle in her eyes as she leaned across the table to reach for the medical file. Neil nodded curtly.

 

"Mrs. Crandall. Seventy-four. History of multiple abdominal surgeries. She's coming in with a partial small bowel obstruction. CT scan looks like a knotted mess of adhesions. We'll need to do a full exploration and likely resection." At these words, Morgan looked up again, her expression anything but enthusiastic. Claire beside him also sighed softly, and Neil frowned. But before he could add anything, Morgan leaned back in her chair and folded her arms with a sigh.

 

"Great, so nothing but a few cuts and glue. Yay." Neil wrinkled his nose before reaching for the file again.

 

"Feel free to sit it out, Reznick. I'm sure the clinic has a hemorrhoid with your name on it." Morgan pressed her lips tightly together, and Alex chuckled slightly before shaking his head.

 

"Do you really need all of us for this?" Neil paused briefly and gave Alex an almost perplexed expression before looking at the others' faces. No one seemed particularly enthusiastic, and Neil had to suppress a shake of his head. He was aware that this wasn't a particularly complicated or exciting surgery, but when he was the one so close to the end of his residency, he had taken every opportunity to see the inside of an operating room. He didn't know what to make of the fact that his residents didn't show much interest in it. Whether that said more about them or him as a teacher.

 

“Unless one of you has a date with a hernia repair, yes.” He tucked the chart under his arm. “Shaun, you’re on mapping. Claire, you’re with me for the dissection. Alex, you’re closing. Morgan -” For a brief moment he hesitated. He knew he didn’t really need every one of them, but he didn’t want to reveal all of his cards just yet. “- manage pre-op, and you can scrub in halfway if you behave.” Claire hid her smirk behind a sip of coffee. Alex just nodded, and Shaun was already pulling up images on the nearest tablet. Morgan didn’t protest. For a moment Neil watched her exclusively, tilting his head before shaking it. “We can’t do exciting new operations every day. Most of the time we have this everyday, standard routine. It’s not flashy, but if we screw this up, she dies. So let’s not screw it up.” Morgan just shrugged, and the others didn't react much either, but at least no one contradicted him. Neil sipped his coffee and was already turning to leave to get on with his paperwork before the door opened. Neil looked over his shoulder and immediately caught Richard's eye, standing in the doorway with a wide grin.

 

"Good morning," he said, a little too loudly, with a wide grin. Richard had always been a morning person, and it showed. The others murmured a quiet greeting as Neil turned completely to face him.

 

"Morning." Lane nodded, approaching him with a spring in his step.

 

"Hey. I heard you're giving a speech tomorrow?" Neil frowned slightly, unsure where he was going with this, before nodding slowly.

 

"Lim asked me to. Nothing special, why?" Lane gave him a slight chuckle, which Neil couldn't quite interpret, before shrugging it off with a slight shrug.

 

"I've managed to find a few more sponsors. It would be nice if you could say a few words to them." Neil hesitated briefly.

 

"Sure ..." Lane nodded before patting him lightly on the shoulder, his features warm.

 

"Perfect. I'll send you a list later. You will be fine." He winked slightly, but before Neil could reply, he turned around and headed for the door. "Oh," he said suddenly, slowly turning back. Neil's eyebrow lifted slightly. "Before I forget ..." Lane's smirk widened, and Neil involuntarily let a soft breath escape from his nose. "I need one of your people, Melendez." The others all looked up at once, and Neil almost rolled his eyes at the hope flashing across their faces. "Pancreatic tail resection," he added loudly enough that even Shaun looked up. "Young patient, clean margins, laparoscopic but tricky. Could be textbook-perfect if we nail it." He emphasized the last words a little more directly. Neil didn't give him the satisfaction of responding, instead giving him a barely perceptible nod.

 

"Which one?" Neil would have preferred to assign him Morgan straight away, but he was about to teach her a lesson, not to assign her an exciting operation the next moment. Neil's stomach sank when he noticed Lane's almost spiteful look. It bothered him that probably every single one of his residents was hoping to be taken off his case at that very moment. Lane's grin widened, revealing his teeth.

 

“Oh, I don’t know yet. I thought I’d browse.” Now Neil couldn’t suppress the eye roll. Lane had a habit of making a show of everything, even if just for the fun of it. Morgan straightened slightly, Alex folded his arms, playing it cool but definitely listening. Claire didn’t move, but her eyes flicked toward Neil instinctively, as if asking permission before doing anything. Neil didn’t respond, but he pressed his lips together and exhaled loudly, unable to hide his impatience. “How about …” He drew out the last word particularly long. “Murphy. Interested?” Shaun looked in his direction, his hands clasped together.

 

“Dr. Melendez assigned me to the bowel surgery already. I’m mapping.” Lane watched him for a moment before a slight, humorless laugh escaped his lips.

 

“Right,” he said, mock regretful. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt mapping.” He let his gaze wander further; Morgan was already straightening up to appear taller. Lane nodded in her direction, a charming smile on her face.

 

"What about you?" Before she could say anything, Neil stepped forward as if by reflex. Lane's show was getting to be too much for him, and he shook his head.

 

"Now just pick anyone and get on with it, Richard. Don't you have anything better to do?" Lane grimaced for a brief moment before raising his hands defensively.

 

"Okay, okay. You're just not fun anymore." Neil suppressed the urge to roll his eyes again, but Lane was already looking away. His smile quickly returned when his gaze fell on Claire. "You're not spoken for yet, are you?" Claire's eyes lit up for a moment before she opened her mouth slightly. Before she could say anything, Lane shook his head, laughing. "I'm just messing with you. Lim already told me to grab you. You're with me." Neil pressed his lips together, and Claire's gaze flickered in his direction for a brief, reflexive moment before she nodded.

 

"Okay, thanks." Lane nodded as well, his eyes searching Neil's again, in whose direction he also nodded.

 

"Surgery's in two hours," he said, before looking back in Claire's direction. "I'll find you," he added with a wink, before turning on his heel and disappearing as quickly as he'd come. Part of him was happy for Claire, of course, as this surgery was admittedly more exciting than the one he was scheduled for, but it still made him feel uneasy that he'd gotten his hands on Claire. He didn't expect Lane to have anything planned with this - how could he? He didn't know anything about what was going on between them, as far as Neil knew - but he still would have preferred to keep Claire close. Morgan groaned in annoyance before pushing herself theatrically off her chair.

 

"You're going to have to tell me your secrets at some point, Browne." Alex breathed a soft laugh as Morgan disappeared before shaking his head. Before either of them could say anything, Neil cleared his throat loudly.

 

"Park, you're with me for the dissection then." Alex's face brightened slightly and he nodded contentedly before he also set off to do the rounds. Shaun stood up in one smooth movement and looked in Neil's direction once more before disappearing as well. Claire was already standing in the doorway, just gripping the handle.

 

"Sorry." Neil raised his eyebrow and took an amused step closer to her.

 

"For what?" Claire hesitated for a moment before shrugging.

 

"Felt like the right thing to say," Neil chuckled, folding his arms over his chest to stop himself from extending them in her direction.

 

"But you're not sorry," he pointed out, trying to suppress the grin that also was already spreading across Claire's face. She let go of the doorknob and took another step closer.

 

"Nope." Neil nodded sarcastically and raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help but enjoy the joy radiating throughout her body. It was only a matter of time before one of them would operate alongside Lane, and Neil had learned from Claire that they'd been hoping every day that it would happen. During his first few weeks at the hospital, Lane hadn't spent many hours in the operating room, but rather in bureaucratic changes affecting the clinic and its staff. A few days ago, he'd removed a brain tumor, and Shaun had been allowed to assist - at least as long as he wanted to call holding the suction assisting. Looking at Claire's broad grin now changed Neil's mind, and he was almost grateful that Claire would be the first to operate alongside him, even if it wasn't an operation in his area of ​​expertise.

 

"Okay, but don't come to me later and complain that he spent hours chatting to you about boats." Claire furrowed her eyebrows, but the slight smile didn't disappear from her face.

 

"Boats?" Neil nodded and looked over her shoulder into the hallway - a habit he always had when their conversations became a little less professional.

 

"He's always been obsessed with boats. From what I understand, he now has a small yacht of his own," he said with a slight roll of his eyes. Claire's eyes widened for a brief moment before she grimaced. Neil chuckled softly before exhaling heavily. It startled him, how easy she made it look to make him laugh with some ridiculous, exaggerated expression she probably didn’t even think twice about. He watched her try to act like nothing happened, but he saw the moment of pride in her eyes, that barely-there smile tugging at her lips. She knew what she’d done, and he loved her for it. For that absurd little expression, for knowing exactly when he needed something light to hold onto. Even here, even in the middle of all this pretending, she reached him. It scared him, how much he needed her light. How easily she found the pieces of him he thought he’d hidden away for good. He couldn’t laugh like that with anyone else, he didn’t even want to.

She shook her head, perhaps to break the moment, perhaps to make the boundary between them a little clearer again.

 

"I didn't think he was that kind of person," she murmured absentmindedly, and Neil shrugged evasively.

 

"You'd be surprised." Claire nodded slightly before their eyes met and her features softened a little. She looked exhausted, in a good way. Softer, as if the weight she carried around with her every day had become a little lighter. She was glowing, not in some obvious way, but in that subtle shift of energy that only someone who had been paying attention all along would notice. Her shoulders sat differently, and the sadness that once clung to her eyes like mist had lifted, if only a little. He could have lost himself in the sight, but the next moment she stepped back a little, her gentle smile replaced by a challenging grin.

 

"Well, I think there might also be a few things about you I still don’t know," she said, and even if her words made his heart race for a moment, as if she'd been expecting him to finally tell her what he'd been hiding for quite some time, the tone in her voice and the small dimples forming in her cheeks made him exhale a laugh. As if by reflex, he licked his lip and, with a slight chuckle, realized that Claire was following his movement closely.

 

"I guess you'll have to stick around to find out." Her smile became a little more subtle again, a little warmer, the kind of smile that belonged only to him, and his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the blush creeping into her cheeks. He couldn't help but think how beautiful she was and how happy it made him that he still had that effect on her.

 

"Good thing I plan to anyway." Her voice was warm and soft, her eyebrow slightly raised. For a heartbeat, there was silence between them, Neil tilted his head and watched her.

 

"You look happy," he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. Claire raised her eyebrow skeptically, but clearly amused and placed her hands on her hips.

 

"Is that so?" Neil nodded, a small smile spreading across his face as Claire simply shrugged and hummed softly. "I went jogging this morning," she added with a warm undertone. Neil's eyebrows raised in surprise. He knew she often went jogging without him, but Claire wasn't exactly known for being a morning person, so he was surprised that she'd gone for a run before work.

 

"How come?" he asked, and she shrugged again, unable to hide the twinkle in her eyes.

 

"Someone once told me it would be good for my sanity, so I thought ..." Neil nodded knowingly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

 

"Sounds like a smart person." Claire pretended to consider it, bobbing her head slightly before making a note of acknowledgment.

 

"Well, a bit cocky for my taste, but I guess." Neil gave her an unimpressed look before snorting softly and shaking his head. She gave him a warm smile, tilting her head slightly. While all he wanted to do was reach for her, she nodded in his direction with a cheeky grin and turned around. As she walked away, she pulled her hair back into a loose bun. Neil watched her go, that same quiet awe settling over him like it always did when she shifted into who she really was; brilliant, confident, impossibly good. Not just good in the technical sense, though she was that too. But good in the way that mattered. In the way that reached people, changed them. There was a grace in the way she carried herself, in how she made people feel seen, even in passing. She didn't try to be extraordinary. She just was. And somehow, she still didn’t seem to know that. He stood there a moment longer than necessary, gaze lingering as she disappeared around the corner. He wondered how she would react when she finally found out how he felt about her. Without these evasive words that danced around what he actually felt. Not just that he had feelings, or that he cared about her. The words she deserved. Soon. Soon he would tell her.

 

---

 

Notes:

Well, well, well. Claire and Neil seem to think very differently about the whole 'keeping it a secret' thing 🫠 let's hope that will work out fine anyway.
Oh and Neil is ready to drop the L word? Let's see how claire will take it.

Next week will be the fundraiser and let's just say ... it will be very interesting 🤫

Chapter 14: Mirror, Mirror on the wall

Notes:

Uhh, the fundraiser is happening tonight. Buckle up, it will be interesting.
A familiar face, a familiar feeling and a million questions. Let's have fun!

 

---

 

Claire stood in front of the mirror, her eyes wandering over her body. Her hands gently stroked the fabric of her new dress, dark green, elegant. It wasn't anything particularly flashy, but something about it made her smile. When she had been shopping with Morgan a few days ago, she had thought it unnecessary; she had some dresses at home that would have been appropriate for the occasion, but Morgan had insisted. And looking in the mirror now, she was grateful for it. Claire felt comfortable, her loose hair flowed gently over her shoulders, her gold accessories made her eyes shine, but the smile came all by itself. Yesterday before work, they had laughed together, joked about who could turn the most heads, talk the most money out of the sponsors. But tonight she felt beautiful for herself, didn't see flaws. She saw strength. She saw someone who had survived loss, uncertainty, and the slow, painful process of healing. She saw a woman who was still learning how to love herself, but who no longer felt like a stranger in her own skin. She saw the girl she was and the woman she would become, but it wasn't painful; it was beautiful. Over the past few days, she'd noticed a feeling of contentment settling in her stomach. Happiness … where she caught herself smiling in the mirror or laughing without looking over her shoulder. Where she didn’t need to perform strength but simply was strong. Where she felt like herself, not the version others expected or needed her to be.

She used to wonder if she'd ever feel whole. After everything, with her mother, with Kayla, with all the grief that had piled up like unfinished stories, there had been a time she thought happiness would always be just out of reach. But lately, more and more, there were these slivers of light. Like this one. Standing here in a dress she chose for no one but herself, feeling not perfect, but real. Feeling ... good. There were years when life had only felt like survival. Years when smiling took effort, when being seen felt like a risk. Grief had lived in her bones, doubt had curled up beside her each night, whispering that she was too much, or not enough, or both at once. But lately ... lately it was different. She set goals, had wishes, was no longer afraid to look into the future, sometimes she was even excited about it. Not that she had any particular plans, but she could hardly wait to see what life would still hold in store for her, and something about that felt like a big step in the right direction. It wasn’t about the dress. It wasn’t about looking beautiful, though she did feel beautiful tonight. It was about feeling rooted. About the peace that came from no longer apologizing for existing, for taking up space, for wanting things. For wanting more. And this moment in front of the mirror, this slow recognition, felt like a promise she was finally keeping to herself. She was becoming the woman she had always needed. The woman she had imagined on the hard days. Not perfect, not untouchable, but herself.

She sighed softly and contentedly as she turned away from the mirror and reached for her phone to call an Uber. She couldn't suppress the butterflies in her stomach - she was looking forward to the evening. Dr. Lane had actually mentioned his new yacht a few times during their surgery yesterday, which had made Claire chuckle. But he had also talked a lot about the event, and Claire had realized what an impressive man he was. He fought for good in the world, started projects that no one had ever thought of before, but which could change the face of medicine forever. It had been fascinating, not only to watch him at work - even though she had to admit that she had rarely seen someone with such elegance in the OR - but also to listen to him talk. Claire wasn't naive; he had a way of talking that swept everyone along, made things seem more impressive than they actually were. But she noticed how much passion he had, and that triggered something in Claire that she still couldn't quite interpret. He'd made a lot of jokes at Neil's expense, but it seemed to Claire that he actually liked him. She still wondered what had happened between them, but she hadn't thought it right to ask him. Maybe what Neil had said was actually true and it was nothing more than a friendly rivalry. But that wouldn't explain why Neil had behaved the way he did in the first few weeks after Lane's arrival. She'd thought it was nothing, that she was just imagining it, that Neil needed to get used to having someone new working at his side, just like everyone else. But she had felt it. The way his energy shifted when Lane walked into the room, the way he pulled back; not just from Lane, but from Claire too, like he was suddenly afraid of being seen too clearly. Like something unspoken had crept in between them. It had settled down, Neil was back to his old self, at least as far as she could tell, at least as far as he showed her. There was still a piece of the puzzle she was missing, something she needed to make sense of it all.

But tonight it didn't matter. Tonight was about more than interpersonal drama, more than rumors or bad feelings. It wasn't even about her, or Neil. It was about the charity event, about the people they had saved and the ones who didn’t make it. Claire looked in the mirror for the last time and caught her own gaze. That evening, the earthquake, all the things that had happened there were the reason why her life had changed so much in the last few weeks. She didn't think about the earthquake often anymore, at least not as much as she had at first, but with Dr. Malkin the subject kept coming up, even if at first Claire didn't feel like it still bothered her as much. But it was in her bones, hidden somewhere where she didn't have to see it every day. She knew they'd been lucky and that she'd probably be feeling very different now if Neil or Glassman hadn't made it. But she often forgot that part of her gratitude. Neil's wounds had healed, nothing more than a pale line stretching across his eyebrow, which she barely noticed anymore, a scratch, nothing more. And of course she was grateful that in the end it was nothing more than that, but she would probably never be able to fully comprehend it. She had already distanced herself emotionally from it, so much so that sometimes it didn't even seem like a memory, but like a dream she'd had a while ago and was trying to remember.

It was easy to forget, it was easy to move on, if misfortune had spared her this time. Since that evening, she'd never really allowed herself to think that thought again - that she could have lost him. That she almost had. That it could have been over before anything had even begun between them, before she'd even had the right to miss him. She barely realized how grateful she should be to now know what it was like to lie in his arms. The feeling that spread through her when he looked at her, no longer longingly, but as if he had every right to do so. In another universe, if they hadn't been there fast enough, or he'd been hit somewhere else - perhaps she'd be alone here again. But whoever had been looking out for her this time, looking out for him, for some reason they had been lucky this time. He had gotten up again, bruised, bloody and just as stubborn as ever, but he had gotten up and come back to her. Well, not exactly. He had helped others, ignored his own pain and saved people. Just like he always did. He hadn’t even looked for her at first. And somehow that had hurt too. Like she'd already missed her chance. So much could’ve ended that night. So much almost did. But he was still there, for whatever reason, he was still there. And so was she. There was something sad in that, yes. But there was something beautiful too. She hadn’t missed everything. Life had paused, twisted, shaken them, and then handed them back to each other. The smile on her face widened again. They were still here. They still had each other.

 

****

 

The hotel looked like it belonged to another world. Glass chandeliers, polished marble floors. The kind of lighting that made everything feel too soft, warm and comfortable. There were people everywhere, smiling broadly, laughing loudly or having wild discussions. A jazz band was playing in the center of the room; it felt surreal, almost indulgent. But maybe that was the point. A night to remember what survived.

Her eyes scanned the crowd before she told them to. She wasn't looking for anyone. That's what she told herself. But then, there he was. Neil. Standing near the stage, speaking with Dr. Lim and a few board members. A dark blue suit that hugged his body perfectly, a tie around his neck, nothing short of perfect. She pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. Sometimes it didn't feel real how incredibly good-looking he was. The confident expression on his face, the way he stood there, as if he was always in control, as if no one could hurt him.

"I still think we look the best," she suddenly heard someone say, and she turned abruptly to look into Morgan's face. She was incredibly beautiful, elegant, and graceful, and Claire couldn't stop her mouth from falling open.

 

"You ... wow." Morgan laughed softly as she extended a champagne glass to Claire. Claire accepted it gratefully, but didn't immediately look away. Morgan sighed quietly.

 

"Maybe I was wrong after all. I'm glad we're here today," she said, extending her glass toward Claire, who immediately clinked her glass with her. She followed Morgan's gaze, which rested on Lane and Park, who were chatting near the buffet. "Everyone looks irresistible today," she murmured into the rim of her glass, and Claire raised an eyebrow. At first, she'd been irritated that Morgan had actually flirted so openly with Lane, but after a while, she'd realized she'd only been having fun. Lane had indeed been a flirt, responding to every suggestive comment or suggestive look Morgan had made, and she'd enjoyed the attention. Eventually, she'd become frustrated because, for the first few weeks, he'd disappeared into his office for the rest of the day after a brief greeting. And of course, Claire had had to endure a few more comments after he'd brought her along for his surgery yesterday. But all in all, Claire was glad that Morgan had only had a little fun with the situation and hadn't actually gone after Lane. She certainly wouldn't have judged her for it, but she would have had some concerns. "Is he acting strange?" Morgan asked, still looking at the other two.

 

"Who? Lane?" Morgan's expression didn't change, but she nodded in their direction as if by reflex.

 

"Park." Claire raised an eyebrow. "There's something strange about him." Claire focused on Alex, but she didn't notice anything unusual. He was dressed up, wearing a smart suit, his hair styled a little differently than usual, but it suited him. He nodded occasionally, while Lane seemed to be telling him some kind of story, even if he was only half-listening. Claire shrugged.

 

"Doesn't seem that way to me. Why?" She watched Morgan wrinkle her nose, but then turning away and sipping her drink.

 

"Doesn't matter." Claire furrowed her eyebrows but didn't respond. Instead, she scanned the room to see who was present. She didn't know most of the people there, which was at least a good sign. There seemed to be a lot of donors there, having a great time. She saw a few nurses, but the others were strangers to her. The corners of her mouth twitched upward when she saw Glassman talking to Lea. Glassman looked well, more rested, at least a little. As far as Claire could tell, his brow was still furrowed, his gaze still cooler than usual as he talked with her, but Lea played it off with an exuberant smile. Claire shook her head, smiling slightly. Over the past few weeks, Lea had grown on her. Their meeting with Shaun had been a little awkward, but once the ice was broken, they'd gotten along well, almost unnaturally well. They seemed to be on the same wavelength, and Lea seemed to have her heart in the right place. It calmed Claire down; even though she was still a little wary, she began to trust her, especially when she saw her with Shaun. "Shall we get something to eat?" Morgan asked, nodding toward the buffet. Claire followed her gaze, but Park and Lane were gone.

 

"Sure." The two went to the buffet, and Claire watched with amusement as Morgan put many different snacks on her plate. She was more selective, as she couldn't even quite put her finger on most of the things. "What's up with you and Alex?" she asked, once she'd grabbed some snacks. Morgan immediately grimaced, her gaze a little colder than before.

 

"What do you mean?" Claire's features warmed a little, but her eyebrow remained raised.

 

"I don't know. We had that one night at the bar where you two seemed inseparable, and ever since then, you seem to hate each other more than before." Morgan snorted before laughing exuberantly. The kind of laugh she used to mask her discomfort.

 

"We were just drunk, that's all it was." Her voice sounded less confident than usual, Claire noticed skeptically. She nodded slightly and looked away, as Morgan seemed to be shutting down. Her eyes scanned the room for Alex, but at that moment, he seemed to be gone. Instead, she caught Neil's eye, still talking with Lim and the others. The corner of his mouth twitched upward almost imperceptibly, but the way his expression changed made Claire's heart race a little, and she almost had to turn away to avoid blushing. There was this gleam in his eyes that always made her knees go weak. She exhaled softly through her nose as he averted his gaze. He was so incredibly handsome, and everything about it was unfair. It had been a few days since she'd spent the night with him, and she felt every single second of it in her body. She didn't know where this pent-up energy came from, this persistent need to throw herself at him and feel him inside her. Maybe it was the thought of the earthquake, but more likely it was just him. Looking at him like that, she couldn't understand how she'd managed to stay away from him for so long. Realistically, it was pretty obvious - he was her boss, mostly in a relationship anyway, and her mind was elsewhere. But seeing him now in his fitted suit, even more elegant than usual, made her throat tighten. Maybe it was also because he was more than just a fantasy these days, even though that's exactly what he looked like at the moment, he was real. Attainable. Claire hid her grin behind the rim of her glass and looked away. In the distance, she saw Shaun, who looked anything but pleased. He seemed as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. For a brief moment, she considered going over and talking to him, but then she noticed Lea making her way over to him, and he seemed to be calming down, even if only a little. As she let her gaze wander, she almost choked on her drink. Morgan gave her a skeptical look. "Are you okay?" Claire tilted her head slightly and cleared her throat.

 

"Yeah, I was just wondering ... is that … Jessica Preston?" she managed, glad that her voice showed less emotion than she felt. The question had been unnecessary; she recognized Jessica, even though it had been a while since she'd seen her. Something about the sight of her made her stomach clench - was it jealousy, worry? She pressed her lips together. "I thought she'd be in New York or something by now." Morgan followed her gaze and nodded, noticing Jessica talking to Martha and falling into her arms.

 

"Ah, yes. I heard she's coming. Apparently, she made a significant donation through her law firm." Claire raised an eyebrow but couldn't tear her eyes away from Jessica.

 

"Her law firm?" Morgan nodded, but shrugged dismissively, her expression anything but interested.

 

"I don't know. From what I gathered, she opened her own law firm a while ago. Must be doing a lot of pro bono work." Claire nodded slowly as she let the words sink in. She didn't know Jessica personally, really; she'd seen her a few times in the hospital or heard stories about her, rarely interacting with her directly, but from what she knew, it made sense. She seemed like a good person, of course she was. Claire pressed her lips together, her finger nervously tapping on her glass as her gaze followed her around the room.

 

"How does she know about this?" she asked, a little more quietly than before, hating herself for how jealous the question sounded. Morgan didn't seem to notice, because she gave an evasive shrug and turned back to the buffet to help herself to more appetizers.

 

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because it was all over the news?" Her voice was sarcastic, but the slight smile at the corners of her mouth was warm. "Maybe she was invited by Glassman or Melendez." Claire nodded again, trying to look casual, but her heart was beating too fast for her cold facade. Neil hadn't told her Jessica would be here, so she didn't assume he'd known. At least, she hoped so. Not that she was actually jealous, well, maybe a little. Things hadn't ended particularly well between them, she knew that, but it had taken Neil a while to get over her. At least Claire hoped he'd completely gotten over her by now. But she also wondered what it would say about Neil if he'd invited Jessica without telling her. She had a right to know, didn't she? He didn't owe her an explanation, but it still left a bitter taste in her mouth. Claire's eyes remained fixed on her, and her heart skipped a beat as she saw Jessica start moving, heading toward Neil. She tried not to let it show, but her heart began to race, and she hated herself for it, but her fingers were gripping her glass far too tightly as Jessica tapped Neil on the shoulder. It wasn't long before he turned around, and the air gathering in Claire's lungs pressed hard against her ribcage. From the outside, Claire was probably anything but inconspicuous.

Her gaze remained fixed on the two of them, watching their greeting as if it were a car crash she simply couldn't turn away from. To her relief, however, Neil seemed just as surprised by Jessica's presence as she had been. Claire let out a breath and her muscles relaxed involuntarily. She sipped her drink, almost wishing she were standing closer to them so she could hear what they were saying. Neil smiled, warm and hearty, and Jessica's face reflected the same joy. Without hesitation, she took him in her arms, and Claire looked away, wrinkling her nose. Maybe she was a little jealous after all. Not because she was hugging him, though, in a way that wasn't entirely friendly or polite, but much more familiar, or that he was so happy to see her again. It was more complicated than that, and Claire couldn't help but catch another glimpse.

He was beaming from ear to ear, and she was laughing at something he'd said. Claire pursed her lips. It was strange, she saw Neil with Audrey every day and it didn't bother her, even if she had witnessed their relationship herself. Things were different with Jessica, not because she expected him to leave her for Jessica, but because she was Jessica. The woman who had once been the one. The fiancée. The one Neil had been willing to spend the rest of his life with. And they hadn't broken up because they didn't love each other anymore or because one of them didn't want the relationship anymore, it had more or less been circumstances that had pulled them apart and something about that tasted bitter in Claire's mouth. Because sometimes love just wasn't enough to hold it all together. And somehow, that made it worse. Because if it hadn't ended in anger or betrayal, maybe it never really ended at all. Maybe there was still something soft between them, something unfinished, something she could never touch. Jessica was part of Neil's history in a way Claire could never be. There had been rings involved. Plans. A whole life that almost was. It wasn't like that girl in Thailand to whom Neil had given his heart to, but had taken it back unharmed. She was everything he had ever wanted, a constant what if.

 

Claire stood perfectly still, glass in hand, heartbeat rising. She had no right to feel this, she knew that, but still, a thought clawed its way forward; If Jessica was once everything … what was Claire? Could she ever have given him what he saw in Jessica? Claire took a slow sip of her drink. The bubbles felt too present on her tongue. She told herself it didn’t matter. That she was fine. That what she and Neil had, whatever it was becoming, wasn’t threatened by a single embrace from a woman he used to love. But it was too late. The questions were already rising, uninvited. It made her wonder if Neil ever compared them. If Jessica still lived somewhere quiet in the back of his mind. If love like that ever truly let go, or if it simply changed shape and lingered.

She didn’t blame him. Of course she didn’t. Jessica seemed lovely, graceful, warm, the kind of woman who made sense beside Neil. Claire had spent so much of her life pretending not to want what she couldn’t have that now, when it stood right in front of her, all she could feel was the distance between them. Because Jessica wasn’t just an ex. She was a chapter, no, a whole book, in Neil’s life. The woman who fit in all the right ways, who introduced him to her parents, seen the holidays, maybe even picked out paint colors for their home. She was the version of Neil’s future that had once seemed secure. Jessica was all the what ifs. All the could’ve beens. All the things life had almost allowed, but didn’t. And Claire could feel the weight of standing in the same room as the life Neil had almost lived. It wasn’t just history. It was almost-history. A love that hadn’t died, just … had been ignored. Not for lack of feeling, but because of timing, or pain, or circumstance, of not wanting the same thing at the same time; the kind of ending that didn’t erase the tenderness, only buried it deeper.

 

"Everything okay?" Morgan asked, pulling Claire from her thoughts. Claire blinked and glanced at her. She forced a slight smile.

 

"Yeah, I was just wondering if maybe we should talk to Dr. Lim now. About our situation." Morgan narrowed her eyes for a brief moment before humming thoughtfully.

 

"Don't you think it would be better if we did this later, when things have calmed down a bit?" Claire shrugged, her gaze flickering to Audrey, who was now also talking to Jessica.

 

"I don't know, maybe she'll be more focused on the event later." Morgan nodded and took a step forward.

 

"Okay, plan. I'll go and bring it up now. And you can follow up later." Claire nodded in agreement, and Morgan raised a thumbs-up. With a slight grin on her face, she turned and headed toward Audrey. Claire exhaled deeply as she looked out at the crowd. Glassman had joined in as well, claiming Jessica completely for himself. The tight feeling in her chest eased a little. Claire wasn’t Jessica. She’d never be. And maybe that was the point. Neil had loved Jessica with a kind of clarity. But he had fallen for Claire, despite that clarity. It came from chaos. And that meant something too, didn’t it? Connection that survived the mess. That grew in it. She didn’t need to be anyone’s perfect past. She had survived too much to pretend she wanted that. Whatever Jessica had been, whatever she still stirred in him, that was their story. Not hers. She had a right to be intimidated, maybe even to feel a little small. But she didn’t want to feel like she wasn’t good enough again, not when he hadn’t given her a reason to be. She sipped her glass and nodded slightly to herself. Stop overthinking. Enjoy the evening. She closed her eyes and sighed softly.

 

"Dr. Browne." She opened her eyes abruptly and looked in the direction of the voice. "Are you enjoying yourself?" Claire pressed her lips into a slight smile and nodded.

 

"Hello, Dr. Lane." To her surprise, he stood next to her. His aftershave was strong, confident, bordering on the intrusive. She liked it.

 

"You look great, if I do say so myself." Claire giggled an intimidated laugh, almost reflexively, and shook her head.

 

"Thank you, but you've dressed up quite nicely as well." Lane chuckled and let his gaze wander around the room. For a moment, it was silent between them, but not uncomfortable. He had this aura that made everyone feel comfortable, even if Claire couldn't quite figure out why.

 

"These people fascinate me," he began, and Claire glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He looked in the direction of the others by the stage. "There's something very special about this hospital. Everyone here is so ... close." His voice was warm, but his eyebrows were slightly furrowed. Claire nodded slightly, a smile playing on her lips.

 

"Yes, you're right." Lane gave her a warm look, which she immediately caught. It was rare that he shed his smug demeanor and showed his soft side, and something about that fascinated Claire. He looked away first, the corner of his mouth still twitching slightly upward.

 

"The hospital where I trained was different. Completely different climate, completely different people." He shook his head with a chuckle and glanced sideways at her. "Admittedly, that was a few years ago." Claire gave him a polite smile and looked away again. She felt his gaze on her skin and reflexively grew a little taller. "Melendez was such a conceited jerk back then," he laughed, and Claire raised her eyebrow as she caught his eye. "I liked that about him, he was never at a loss for words. Even if he contradicted me too often for my liking." His gaze landed on Neil, his smile narrowed slightly, his eyes squeezed slightly. "He seems different these days. A bit more guarded." Claire waited to see if Lane would elaborate, but he didn't seem to. He chuckled into his glass before starting to talk about the surgery they'd performed together yesterday. Claire shook her head in perplexity and turned completely in his direction.

 

"When did the two of you work together?" she interupted, Lane raised an eyebrow and watched Claire with amusement. He didn't reveal what he was thinking, though, and Claire tried to keep her expression as neutral as possible.

 

"When he started his residency," he began, his voice neutral, his expression warm. Claire tilted her head.

 

"So you worked at San Bonadventure once, too? I didn't know that." Lane shook his head and gave her a small smile.

 

"No, I didn't. Melendez started at a different hospital." Claire frowned, her gaze automatically flicking to Neil, who was still talking with Jessica and Glassman. She opened her mouth to say something, but Lane just chuckled. "You didn't know that." He nodded slowly as Claire turned back toward him. "It was only for a very short time, tho." Claire pressed her lips together as she tried to piece together the missing piece of the puzzle from the new information. For a brief moment, she considered simply asking Lane if anything had happened between them, but immediately dismissed the idea when she noticed Neil slowly making his way toward the stage. "How's he doing as a teacher? I've only heard good things about him, but here I'm at the source." Claire glanced at him. He looked a little thoughtful, but she still couldn't interpret what she saw in his face. "Anything that's not on his awards or his resume or something?" She thought for a moment, wasn't sure what answer he expected from her, or if he was hinting at something, so she decided to just be honest.

 

"I can only speak for myself, but in my opinion he is as good as his reputation suggests." Lane smiled gently and turned away again. Claire noticed his gaze land on Jessica, the corners of his mouth slightly turned up. He let a soft breath escape from his nose before straightening his shoulders.

 

"Hm." He sipped his drink before pointing it toward the stage, where Neil had already positioned himself in front of the microphone. "Of course that is your opinion." Claire nodded and forced a smile, glad for the distraction the beginning of Neil's speech provided. She never really understood Lane - every time she thought she'd figured out one thing about him, he showed another side of himself that seemed to contradict it. It wasn't that she felt uncomfortable around him, but it gave her a strange feeling that she couldn't figure him out at all. She also had no idea where he was going with his question. In the corner of her eye, she saw him still grinning, her eyebrow raised. The crowd began to laugh, and Claire tried to refocus on Neil's speech. Of course, it was easy for him to carry people along with him; he had a talent for it. The corners of Claire's mouth twitched upward as she watched him there on stage, with that barely existent smile, his shoulders squared back, his gaze sweeping over the people in front of him. There was something inspiring about it, but Neil knew that too. At that moment, his features became a little more serious, and he cleared his throat.

 

"The earthquake took a lot out of all of us. Many of us saw people die, saw the lives of so many around us change forever in a matter of seconds. Some of us were right in the middle of it." He glanced at Glassman, a smile playing on his lips that only flashed briefly. "I was at the brewery when it started, and I was injured. But I was lucky." He exhaled heavily, and as if by reflex, Claire did the same. Her heart began to beat rapidly in her chest as it brought back the memories from that night. "Before I remember the pain, I remember the silence that followed the collapse. The kind of silence that changes the world in seconds. The one that echoes in your ears for days afterward." The entire room was almost deathly silent, the only sound being Claire's heartbeat in her ears. Neil nodded barely perceptibly before his gaze met those of his colleagues. “But I also remember what happened afterwards. I remember how we gave everything we had to save the people who needed us - even when it was difficult, even when we had no hope left, even when we were afraid ourselves.” Finally, his eyes met Claire’s and immediately a warmth spread through her, calming the pain inside her. “I remember people helping each other up, being there for each other, holding hands, even if they had never met before.” Claire felt goosebumps on her body, the same ones she had in the days after the earthquake, when the reports about it had been all over the news. When hope shone through the pain and suffering.

“Disasters are loud. But the moments that follow? They’re the quiet ones that define us.” Neil raised his glass toward the crowd, his expression serious but warm. “I’m not here tonight as a doctor, or as someone who got hurt. I’m here because I saw what people are capable of when everything falls apart. And because recovery doesn’t end when the dust settles.” The crowd began to applaud and Claire let herself be carried away. She looked into the faces of the others, no longer just marked by the events on site, but full of confidence. Her gaze fell on Alex, he was clapping too, but his expression was still dark. Nevertheless, a small smile played at the corners of his mouth. Neil raised his hand and waited until some calm had returned. “I’ve spent most of my career trying to prepare for the worst. But what happened that day didn’t ask us to be prepared - it asked us to show up. It asked us to be human. And we did. We lost lives, but together we saved lives too. And tonight, what we raise here, it doesn’t just rebuild buildings. It rebuilds the lives inside them. It’s the difference between what someone has now, and what they deserve to have next.” He smiled slightly.

“So give what you can. Give because it matters. Give because good things can come from pain like this.” He looked up and his eyes automatically found Claire's. The corners of his mouth twitched upward, and Claire felt it throughout her body. She returned his smile because she felt it too. The connection. The good that had come from the pain. His eyes darted over the crowd as if searching for someone and after a moment he landed on Martha and Noreen, who were holding each other in their arms, shedding a few tears but still smiling. Neil raised his glass in their direction. “Hope is silent, but it survives all.” Neil’s confident smile crept back onto his face before he walked away from the podium and off the stage without another word. The applause echoed long afterward, and Claire shook her head. Grief was strange, so was gratitude - Sometimes they sat in the same chair. But tonight she felt the latter more. Claire scanned the crowd and realized that Lane had left at some point during Neil's speech.

 

"What a speech," she suddenly heard and turned to Lea and Morgan, who stood next to her, smiling. Morgan chuckled and shook her head.

 

"If Melendez can do anything, it's deliver a speech, you have to give him that." Claire's mouth twitched upward as she reflexively looked for him, but couldn't find him. She furrowed her eyebrows, but turned her attention back to the other two.

 

"Yes, that was a good speech." Lea reached past her to the buffet and smiled, while Morgan nodded toward Lim, who was talking with some other people.

 

"I talked to Lim. I think she'll be on our side, but you'd better catch her later." Claire nodded absentmindedly. Lea was already opening her mouth, but Claire waved her off with a gentle smile. "So, now that this is over ... we have free booze, and at least I have tomorrow off. Who's getting drunk with me?" Morgan asked, mock-euphoric, and Claire let out a short laugh before shaking her head.

 

"I'm on duty tomorrow. I'm out." Morgan rolled her eyes playfully, but just smiled as her gaze darted around the room, as if searching for someone. Claire raised an eyebrow and was about to confront her when she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Uh-oh. Looks like you said her name one too many times," Morgan murmured, and when Claire followed her gaze, it landed on Jessica, who was walking over to them. Claire clenched her jaw but forced a slight smile.

 

"Hello, Ms. Preston," she greeted as Jessica stopped beside her and helped herself to the snacks. She raised her gaze and looked at Claire silently. For a moment, then another. Then a small smile formed at the corners of her mouth and she turned fully to face her.

 

"Dr. Browne. It's good to see you again." She looked past her. "Dr. Reznick and um -" Lea nodded, smiling, and extended her hand in her direction.

 

"Lea. Lea Dilallo. Nice to meet you." Jessica reached for her hand and greeted her warmly before sighing and letting her gaze wander. "You want some?" Lea asked, nodding toward the champagne. Jessica glanced at her briefly, her smile warm as she shook her head.

"Not for me, thanks." Claire tapped nervously on her glass, her teeth digging into the flesh of her cheek. Her thoughts swirled with what to say, whether she should or even wanted to say anything. When Jessica had worked at the hospital, she had only had a few direct interactions with her, but she had always been friendly, kind, and determined. She cleared her throat to fill the silence.

 

"I heard you've opened your own law firm at this point? Congratulations." Jessica turned back to face her, a gentle smile on her face. She seemed cordial, her body language radiating nothing but warmth.

 

"Thank you so much. Yes, almost a year ago, it's ... amazing, really." She nodded, still smiling, and the sparkle in her eyes captivated Claire. She couldn't help but return her smile.

 

"Are you in New York, or ...?" Claire asked, and Jessica shook her head slightly.

 

"Boston." Claire paused, her eyebrows raised.

 

"Boston? How come?" Jessica gave a soft laugh and shrugged.

 

"Opportunities. Chances. I took everything that came my way. Somehow, I ended up in Boston. I wouldn't have thought it, but it really is a great city." Claire nodded and looked away a little, but Lea took a step forward.

 

"You've come a long way from home." Jessica giggled softly and let her gaze wander. Her laughter ended in a soft sigh, her smile becoming a little more subtle when her gaze landed on Glassman. She shook her head.

 

"These used to be my people. And with everything that's happened ..." The others nodded in understanding. It was strange and, in a way, sweet how much this tragedy had changed, how people were there for each other and how they themselves were realizing what was important in life and what wasn't. When Jessica turned back to them, her eyebrows were a little closer together. "I didn't find out until two weeks later. I was building my own life, so far away from here, but then ..." She shrugged. Claire looked past her and noticed Neil walking in their direction, and something about it made her stomach clench. "I reached out to Aaron and he told me what happened. And I couldn't not be here anymore." Her gaze landed on Neil, and her face lit up again. "And here it just feels like nothing has ever changed." Claire forced a smile, but pressed her lips together and looked away again. In the corner of her eye, she could see Neil getting closer, and her heart was beating almost twice as fast. But this time, not simply because of his presence, as usual, but because of the uncertainty that was spreading within her. She swallowed hard and glanced in the others' direction. The two looked as if they were about to watch the next episode of their favorite drama series, and somehow it seemed that way to Claire as well.

 

"Good evening, ladies. You all look beautiful tonight," she heard Neil say and involuntarily turned in his direction. She almost rolled her eyes, he was such a charmer, but instead she just smiled slightly.

 

"You don't look too bad yourself, Melendez." Morgan's voice had a lascivious undertone, and Claire pressed her lips together to suppress a smile, especially when she noticed Neil's slightly perplexed expression. Before he could respond, Jessica playfully slapped him on the shoulder.

 

"You're such a flirt, Neil. Leave the girls alone." Neil chuckled slightly before falling into conversation with her about an evening spent with Martha and Noreen, and Claire exhaled softly before turning back to her friends. Morgan wrinkled her nose and gave Claire a gentle look.

 

"See you later, I got some things to do." Before Claire could answer, Morgan disappeared into the crowd. Claire tilted her head in surprise before turning to Lea. Lea was focused on her phone, sighing occasionally.

 

"What is it?" She raised her eyes apologetically and put her phone back in her pocket.

 

"Shaun was called back to the hospital earlier and left early. I was hoping he'd text me again or come back, but well ..." Claire snorted, her mouth slightly raised, and shook her head.

 

"Believe me, you won't be seeing him again anytime soon. He was so happy he was on call today - I was surprised I even saw him. Even from a distance." Lea rolled her eyes, but it wasn't long before a smile crept onto her lips.

 

"I was just his escort. Does that mean I can go too? These shoes are going to kill me." Claire followed Lea's hand movement and frowned when she noticed her way too high pumps.

 

"I'd say it's for your own safety that you get out of those shoes as soon as possible." Lea laughed softly and raised an eyebrow challengingly.

 

"Is that a doctor's order?" Claire joined in the laughter, even if only for a brief moment.

 

“I guess so, yes.” It wasn’t long before Lea actually said goodbye, more or less happy to be out of the situation. Claire was also toying with the idea of ​​leaving. Not that it wasn’t a pleasant evening, but the constant jazz music and the crowd had made her head throb, and sometime in the last few minutes it occurred to her that she could just leave the event a little early and take a bubble bath. Since that thought had taken hold, she had come up with even more reasons why that would be a good idea. One of the reasons could have been the ongoing conversation between Neil and Jessica right beside her. Claire bit her lip. They weren’t doing anything wrong, just talking, the way people did when they had history and easy familiarity.

Jessica’s laughter rose above the quiet for a moment, light and fluid. Neil tilted his head, smiling in that gentle, listening way of his, and Claire found herself glancing over. More than once. Not because she was jealous, she told herself. That wasn’t it. It wasn't even that Jessica was beautiful, though she was, of course, or that they looked good together, they did, of course. She felt like an outsider, as if she didn't belong there. She felt uncomfortable just standing there, not knowing what to do with herself - should she look or not? Should she join in the conversation or not? Should she leave or just stay there, as if it wasn't difficult not to eavesdrop on their conversation? Her finger tapped nervously against her glass, which was almost empty by now, and when she heard Neil's warm, familiar laugh again, she couldn't suppress the compulsion to look over again. Something in her stomach tightened when she looked at his face - the relaxation in it had returned, the worry lines softer and more subtle. He looked light, as if nothing had ever happened between the two of them, or as Jessica had said, as if nothing had ever changed. Claire had watched Neil give Jessica that exact look many times before, and each time she had been fascinated by it, as he had seemed so completely free, as if he had everything he could have wished for.

But in that moment, it no longer fascinated her; it tore her apart. She felt small. His eyes caught hers for a second and she looked away before he could read them. Her heart was pounding painfully fast against her ribcage, the red crept into her cheeks, her fingers tightened around her glass, but she kept her gaze neutral, letting the air quietly escape from her nose. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. She sipped her drink and tried to look at anything else; the art on the walls, the silent auction table, a couple slow-dancing near the back. But her gaze betrayed her, drifting back again, drawn by something she didn’t fully understand. Just a flicker, just a moment. Just long enough to hate herself for noticing. It wasn't jealousy, it was something lonelier. Jessica's phone buzzed in her clutch, and she glanced at it with a small frown.

 

“Duty calls,” she said lightly, touching Neil’s arm. “I’ll catch up with you later?” Neil nodded.

 

“Yeah, of course.” With one last smile, Jessica disappeared into the crowd, leaving the two of them in a silence that felt much heavier than the noise around them. Claire shifted her weight, suddenly too aware of her own stillness, the way her hands gripped her glass too tightly. She didn't move, though. Didn't walk away. Neil turned towards her slightly, not quite facing her, but enough to make her feel seen. Claire could still feel the warmth in her cheeks, the echo of being caught. She didn’t know if it was worse that he’d noticed, or that he hadn’t looked away. She tried to find something casual to say; anything that wouldn't betray the pressure in her chest, but nothing came. She could see his cheeky grin out of the corner of her eye and mentally cursed how quickly it made her heart race. But she didn't give him the satisfaction of responding; instead, she merely played with the gold chain around her wrist, looking as unfazed as possible. "So ...," he began, his gaze forward, as if this were just a casual conversation between colleagues. But Claire recognized that challenging tone in his voice and risked a quick glance to the side. His expression was perfectly neutral, except for the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth.

 

"So ...," she replied, drawing out the word as long as possible. Neither of them continued that thought, nothing between them except the jazz music and the laughter of the people on the dance floor. It wasn't uncomfortable; it was that comfortable feeling of tension where any gaze that lasted too long seemed to become dangerous, and every bit of distance between them became painfully noticeable. "Nice speech," Claire continued, noticing Neil raise his eyebrow in amusement. "Hope is silent, but it survives all." Claire nodded, grinning, and Neil couldn't help but react slightly. "Very ... inspiring." He brought the glass to his mouth to hide the grin behind it, but he couldn't resist a quick glance in her direction.

 

"Thank you, Dr. Browne." Claire briefly slipped out of her playful facade, her features softening at the tone in his voice. She turned her head slightly, just so slightly, so she could look at him without it being too obvious. As she looked at him like that, her heart warmed. In a way, it had actually been inspiring, because hope was what had driven Claire for years, not just in extreme situations like the earthquake, but in everyday life, at work, in life. It had made her believe that everything that had happened had not been in vain. And she had never lost that hope. Hope was not blind. It always saw every crack, every wound, every shadow, but it chose to believe that healing was possible, that light would find a way, that tomorrow could be kinder than today. And something about Neil, whatever it was, gave her hope too. She cleared her throat and slipped back into her teasing facade, a language they both spoke fluently.

 

"Surprising that Jessica is here, isn't it?", she asked, her voice neutral, but her expression faltered for a brief moment. Neil didn't seem to notice; his gaze still forward, he shrugged.

 

"Yeah, I guess. I wasn't expecting to see her today. That was nice." Claire pursed her lips into a smile and nodded cautiously.

 

"Yeah ... nice." Neil turned his head toward her for a brief moment and caught her gaze. His eyes were warm and filled with the same sparkle he always showed when he looked at her like this. He studied her for a moment longer than she liked, and she didn't have to be a mind reader to know he saw right through her. As expected, he made a smug noise before looking away. "What?", Claire asked a little too quickly, and Neil shook his head, still smirking.

 

"Nothing." He turned his head painfully slowly toward her, a wide grin creeping onto his face as Claire raised her eyebrow and looked at him challengingly. "Nothing, I just didn't think you were the jealous type." Claire's mouth fell open reflexively, and she studied him for a moment, but when he didn't back down, she laughed in disbelief.

 

"I'm not ... jealous." To her surprise, she sounded much more convincing than she had sounded in her head, but that still didn't stop Neil from raising his eyebrow and glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

 

"Of course you're not." Claire frowned and bit her lip to suppress a smile. Neil was clearly enjoying the situation too much, so she just shook her head.

 

"I'm not," she assured him, and Neil nodded briefly in her direction.

 

"Good to know." The smug grin never left his face, and Claire shook her head, her mouth slightly open, and rolled her eyes. Surely it was more complex than that, but Claire couldn't say with complete conviction that she hadn't been jealous, so she decided to change the subject.

 

"I was just wondering how you were feeling about it. If you were ... handling it." This time, when Neil turned to her and caught her gaze, his face was warmer and a little more serious, although the twinkle still crept into his eyes. He shrugged slightly.

 

"It was a little strange, but mostly I was just surprised. We haven't seen each other for a while, and somehow -" He looked away and exhaled deeply, but when he began to speak again, his voice was still calm. "It was weirdly familiar and yet strange at the same time. I don't know if that makes sense." Claire studied him, a little more directly this time, her eyebrows slightly drawn together.

 

"It does." He gave her a quick smile before looking forward again.

 

"It was nice to hear where she is now and that she's good. I'm happy for her." Claire nodded and smiled gently. She could imagine that it must have been upsetting for him in some ways, too, if it had triggered so many different things in her. But the way he'd said it, she believed him, and he didn't seem as shaken by it as she'd feared. Though it wasn't usually apparent on Neil's face, he was still smiling slightly, and Claire exhaled softly. He nudged her lightly with his elbow, just light enough that it could have been dismissed as casual, but Claire sensed it was more than that. When their eyes met, her heart pounded in her throat. She lost herself in that warm brown and swallowed hard at the warmth that spread throughout her entire body. "You look truly amazing tonight," he said, a little more quietly and intimately, and Claire's eyes widened as if by reflex; she couldn't suppress the smile either.

 

"So do you." Neil chuckled slightly, the kind of smile that was subtle but anything but bland, and turned away again. The air stretched thin between them again, tight, electric. She hated how much she felt it. Hated that a single line from him could throw her off balance in a room full of people. As she watched him out of the corner of her eye, the thought crossed her mind for a brief moment, that she would like to lean against him or feel his arm around her waist. These thoughts had been coming to her more and more often lately, and sometimes without any fear. Just this desire to be his, public, for the whole world to see. Her mouth opened as if on autopilot, as if she were toying with the idea of ​​telling him, but the words had already died on her tongue.

 

"Poor Alex," he murmured, snapping her out of her trance. She followed his gaze and saw Alex standing at the other end of the room, visibly stressed, while Morgan was gesticulating wildly at him. Claire grimaced and shook her head.

 

"I know, it's only gotten worse lately. There's so much tension between them." Neil laughed, almost spiteful, before shrugging.

 

"Probably because they're sleeping together." Claire jerked her gaze in his direction to see if he was joking, but when his eyes caught hers, his expression was amused, but not joking. Claire frowned.

 

"Huh?" Neil shrugged, looked back toward the two of them, and nodded in his drink.

 

"So either they're doing it, or they did, something or other." Claire's mouth was still open, unable to react in any other way. Her gaze wandered back to the two of them, and something about the way they looked at each other made Claire hesitate.

 

"How do you know?" Neil raised an eyebrow.

 

"It's not that I know. I'm just strongly assuming. I have eyes and enough experience in this area to be certain," he added with a small wink, but Claire couldn't help but stare. Suddenly, it was as if a missing piece of the puzzle completed the whole picture. Some of the comments she'd heard from both Alex and Morgan, the looks, the way the air changed when she was alone in the room with them ...

 

"Oh my God," she whispered in disbelief, making Neil chuckle. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Neil made a pondering noise before shrugging.

 

"I don't care much for gossip." Claire gave him a long, unimpressed look before she began to smile. She wasn't usually that interested in the others' drama either; she didn't have the time, but this time it felt different. More interesting. More exciting. Almost paradoxical that on an evening like this, when such important matters were at stake, they found the time to laugh about such banal things as their colleagues' love lives. But Neil had this habit, ever since the beginning of their friendship; he lightened things up with his cheeky remarks and smug grins. Maybe that was what she appreciated so much about him, that he helped her switch off for a brief moment and just be. Neil hesitantly tore his gaze away from her and let it wander around the room. He sighed softly. "I should start mingling with people again. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea." Even if Claire wanted to protest, didn't want him to leave, he was probably right.

 

"Probably for the best," she murmured with a gentle smile, noticing his eyes darting to her lips for a heartbeat. Reflexively, Claire bit her lower lip, and Neil turned to leave, almost comically fast. Claire rolled her eyes playfully, but at that moment he turned back to her, his face a little more serious, a little more professional, but still more Neil than Dr. Melendez.

 

"Before I forget," he took a step closer, and Claire raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Maya is being transferred as we speak." Claire continued to stare at him, her expression still confused. He smiled slightly and gently. "Maya will continue to be cared for in a psychiatric facility from now on, and she will also receive weekly checkups so we can ensure that her condition is improving physically as well." Claire nodded cautiously, even though the words didn't register. She blinked slowly.

 

"How did you do that?" Neil chuckled slightly at Claire's perplexed expression and shrugged.

 

"Like I said, we didn't give up; a lot of things were going on in the background. She's no longer your patient, but I wanted you to know that." Claire nodded again, an uncertain smile creeping onto her lips. "All right?" Neil asked, his voice warm and, if she interpreted it correctly, a little relieved. Claire caught his eye.

 

"All right." Neil nodded and sighed softly before turning and disappearing into the crowd. Claire pressed her lips together and played with the chain around her wrist. Her eyes followed him around the room, and something settled in her chest. She was glad that he'd felt it was important to tell her about Maya, even if he didn't have to. It meant he actually understood her, knew what she was like. And something about that made the corner of her mouth twitch upward. Apparently, he had been right after all, at least in part, and maybe, probably, she should have put more trust in him. He had learned a lot from her, but she had learned a lot from him too. Relief spread through her, it was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Sure, fundamentally, it hadn't changed anything, but for Maya at least, everything would change now. She let her gaze wander further and landed on Morgan, who was now talking to someone else, but her eyes were fixed on Alex, who was standing a little farther away. Claire shook her head and smiled.

Maybe Neil had been right about that, had seen something she hadn't noticed when she was right there. And maybe that was the point. He understood her in a way that was sometimes foreign to her, but she felt like she also knew him better than most. And yet there were things they didn't know about each other. He didn't know much about her past, not in detail, didn't know who she had been, but who she had become and wanted to be. She didn't know what exactly had happened with Lane, and probably didn't know so many things either. Even though it didn't feel like it, they were still getting to know each other. They certainly hadn't even seen the best sides of each other yet, let alone the worst. And just a few weeks ago, that thought would have frightened her; she would have wanted to hide, but now when she felt Neil beside her, she felt safe. Because yes, they had argued, over and over again for weeks, sometimes more, sometimes less directly, about the same thing, maybe because she was afraid, maybe because she felt alone. And in that moment, Claire realized how stupid that had been, or at least that it had been a defense mechanism. And even if they hadn't handled it hundred percent correctly, it had worked, and whatever it was between them hadn't even left a scratch.

 

Claire watched him from across the room, her glass resting loosely in her hand, forgotten. Neil was speaking to someone now; board members, maybe, or donors, but the softness in his expression hadn’t changed. His smile still carried that rare warmth, the kind that made her feel seen in ways that made her feel special, warm. Their conversation had left something behind, a quiet flutter in her chest that refused to settle. They’d joked around, teased each other and it felt like pieces of herself she thought long buried had stirred to life again. She had come to the fundraiser expecting to just get through the night, not enjoy it. And certainly not to feel this … alive. She turned away from the crowd for a moment, grounding herself, away from the of the hustle and bustle just outside the ballroom doors. Her heart was beating faster than it should’ve been. Maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was him. Probably both. There was no logic to the impulse, just a quiet thought. She didn’t want this night to end with another goodbye and a quiet ride home. Not when there was still so much unsaid between them, hanging in the air, so much left to feel. She pulled out her phone and opened the hotel’s booking site. One room. Just one. It didn’t feel impulsive, it felt honest. Not about lust, though the undercurrent of it was undeniable. That warm feeling in her stomach made her think of nothing but finally being close to him again. Seeing that stupid, smug grin from up close, feeling his warm laugh against her neck … Claire glanced back toward Neil. He was still talking, but his eyes flicked across the room, scanning briefly. Searching. And for the briefest moment, they landed on her. Just long enough for her to feel it. He hadn’t forgotten her, not for a second. Of course he hadn’t. She smiled and pressed confirm. There was no plan. No speech in mind. Just a quiet decision; this night would end differently.

 

---

 

Notes:

Well, well, well.
Our precious Jessica showed up again and turned a few things up. Always interesting to looking into the past again, right?
Well, we'll see a bit more of her next chapter.
I did like her in the show (besides the fact that she dated Claire's man, but well. 😂) i thought she would clearly be a person to reach out after something like that, even after everything that had happened, kinda sad she didn't.

Oh, and fair warning - next week is going to be even longer. For some reasons. 🫣🤫
Happy Weekend. 🥰

Chapter 15: I've known it from the moment that we met

Notes:

It's time. This chapter will be fun.
Fair warning - better not read it at a train or at work. 🤭

 

---

 

Neil hadn't had many expectations for the evening, if he had had any at all. The schedule had been clear to him; it was far from the first charity event he'd been to. He knew how the conversations would go, the expressions on the faces of the people he'd be talking to, the jokes he could already recite, the music was always the same. And yet this evening had been completely different than he could have imagined. He'd been happy to see Martha and Noreen again and to be swept away by their unshakable hope. They laughed and smiled a lot, and Neil almost shook his head at it, it had seemed so absurd. But then, they had survived the time of illness, had seen the ground pulled out from under their feet, and yet they still had each other. He couldn't even blame them for still seeing meaning, hope, light in it all. Noreen had suggested that they could all go out to dinner together soon, like old times, and Neil had agreed immediately, even though something about it felt strange. Perhaps his hesitation when he wanted to ask if he could bring someone, and the brief moment after when he had decided not to. Actually, there probably wouldn't have been anything wrong with bringing Claire along, a meal among colleagues, friends, patients. Who could have objected? Who would have even known about it? Nevertheless, he dismissed the idea for the time being.

He had thrown himself back into the crowd, sometimes talking to Park, who, contrary to expectations, wasn't feeling as bad as Neil had thought he would, sometimes laughing with Audrey, or devoting his attention to the board members he mostly avoided for the rest of the year. At some point, his eyes had fallen on Claire, and his breath had caught in his throat at the sight of her, at her beauty, which could not have been put into words. Claire was always beautiful, but something about that evening made his heart beat faster. Maybe it was her elegance, which she didn't usually display, maybe it was the dress that clung to her like a second skin and matched her skin tone perfectly. Or maybe it was simply the need to be close to her. To show her off in front of all these people. Whatever it was, he found it difficult to take his eyes off her, to not stare at her with his mouth open and let all their resolutions to keep what was between them a secret for a while longer blow away in the wind. Even as she stood there, a little unsure, as if she didn't quite belong there, as if she didn't know what to do with herself, she was still the most beautiful woman in the room. He toyed with the idea of ​​going up to her and saying something, something cheeky, something nice, anything, or maybe just nothing at all. But it hadn't taken long for Morgan to join her, and Neil dismissed that thought, hoping instead that at some point during the evening the opportunity would arise to have a few minutes alone with her. Even if it were only for a brief moment.

Soon, though, he couldn't even think about that anymore when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. It was strange; he hadn't known she was coming, and yet he hadn't had to turn around to know it was Jessica standing behind him. He had a split second to realize this before he turned around on reflex. When he looked into her face, he felt many things and nothing at the same time. She still wore the same smile he had fallen in love with years ago. Warm, sincere, breathtaking. Her eyes still looked at him the same way they had then, even her perfume was the same. It was so paradox, as if he were glimpsing into the past. A feeling of longing was spreading within him too, he couldn't deny it. Not even because he wanted her back, because he had longed for her, but one look had been enough to bring back everything he had once felt.

For a while, he couldn't think; his mind was completely blank; all he could do was talk, listen, fall into the same rhythm as a few years ago. It was frighteningly easy to slip back into that role, to tell the same jokes he knew she would laugh at, to chuckle while she told a serious story, and then to laugh when she got annoyed at his chuckle. It was strange, in so many ways. They hadn't seen each other since the day she packed her bags and left. There had been so much heartache in between, so many regrets, so many plans that had fallen apart in an instant. He had imagined so often what it would be like if they faced each other again, what he would say to her, how she would react. At first, he had pictured her begging him to come back, saying that it had all been a mistake and that she wanted to have children with him after all, that a life without him and their family simply no longer made sense to her. Later, the thoughts became less frequent, only surfacing on the particularly bad days when he had drunk too much or made the mistake of looking at the photo album he had tucked away on one of his shelves. And finally, maybe for half a year, probably a little longer, he hadn't thought about her at all. At some point, after a long time that had almost torn him apart, he had found closure. He had understood that she hadn't been the right one for him and that leaving was the best thing she could have done. Certainly, when he thought about it for a long time, it still hurt deep inside, just not as sharp or as intense. A dull ache that simply reminded him of what she had once meant to him. Jessica didn’t just bring the past, she embodied it. The version of him that was comfortable, happy, and committed to the life he thought he should want.

 

And now, standing across from her, he realized just how far he had drifted from that version of himself. There was no part of him that still wanted her, not really. But her presence reopened something, not regret, not just longing, but the quiet weight of past choices. He was no longer the man he had been with her, and now that he could laugh with her again, something he had never thought possible, he was actually content. He was almost grateful that she had taken this step towards him, even though she insisted that she had had no other choice under the circumstances. It had touched him that she had still been worried about him after everything. That she had to see for herself how he was doing. But that was simply the person Jessica was and always had been. She reminded him of everything he had left behind, or rather, everything he had outgrown. Claire, on the other hand, had a way of anchoring him in the present. And maybe that was all he needed. He had spent his whole life striving for something greater, for a successful career, for published articles, yes, even for a family, but not for a second had he stopped to just breathe. To be. To feel. To be alive. Since the earthquake, Claire had brought out this side of him, if he had to be honest, probably even before. Even with everything that had stood between them; their careers, arguments over the most pointless things, and a world Neil was sure wouldn't understand; he couldn't remember a moment in his life when he'd ever felt so alive and yet so at peace.

 

"Any idea what our girls are up to?" Neil turned his gaze from the jazz band he'd been staring at for the past few minutes, absentmindedly listening to the music on and off; and caught Audrey's eye as she walked toward him. Neil raised his eyebrows.

 

"What do you mean?" She shrugged and looked toward Morgan, who was standing in a less crowded corner of the room, engrossed in her phone.

 

"Both Morgan and Claire approached me today. I'm sure they're up to something." Audrey chuckled slightly as she met his gaze, and he frowned.

 

"What did they want?" She studied his features for a moment, and instantly her gaze warmed. She exhaled softly and shook her head almost imperceptibly.

 

"I'm pretty sure they want my help organizing a charity event of their own?" Neil's mouth remained slightly open as he waited for her to continue. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips; it was warm, but mostly sympathetic. "They asked me all these questions, who to contact, who needed to agree, how best to go about it ... They both seemed pretty interested in starting something." Neil frowned, but after a few seconds, he sighed softly and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

 

"Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome?" Audrey looked briefly surprised before narrowing her eyes.

 

"Did they ask you about it, too?" Neil stroked his chin. Over the past few weeks, he'd noticed Claire researching this very topic, often late into the night. She'd asked him how much he knew about the disease and had complained about how the system treated people with it. Neil had found it a little strange, but whenever he'd asked her if there was a particular reason she was so interested, she'd said it has something to do with Morgan. But he'd assumed they simply wanted to write an article, or it was something personal for Morgan, that he wouldn't want to get involved in, but now it was all starting to make a little more sense.

 

"Not exactly," he simply replied, and Audrey nodded before breaking into a slight smile.

 

"Seems like they've really made it, huh?" she asked amusedly, and Neil agreed with a chuckle. "Hard to believe, actually. I was pessimistic about them at first." Neil rolled his eyes, still smirking, and snorted.

 

"No, you weren‘t." Audrey gave him a hesitant look, then waved him off, a small smile on her lips.

 

"Someone always falls behind. Hard to believe everyone made it this time." Neil tilted his head and let his gaze wander through the crowd. To his disappointment, he saw almost none of his team - Claire wasn't standing where he'd left her, and he couldn't recognize her anywhere else. He frowned, but when he didn't see Morgan anywhere either, his expression softened somewhat. He probably didn't even want to know what they were up to now. When he noticed Alex, the corner of his mouth twitched upward. He was talking to a nurse Neil almost didn't recognize himself, and he seemed to be having a great time with her. Alex probably didn't regret coming to the event much now. Although Neil didn't want to imagine what Alex would have to hear from Morgan if his suspicions were actually correct.

 

"Jared." Audrey glanced at him, raising her eyebrows. "Jared fell off the back." Audrey hesitated briefly before giving an affirmative grunt, but shrugged anyway.

 

"I guess so. If you want to call it that. I always thought it would be Murphy." Neil hid his approving laugh behind his glass.

 

"Me too." The two laughed together for a moment before a comfortable silence fell over them. It was strange to think how far they had come and how close the end of this residency was, even if it didn't feel like it. Neil had never looked forward to the end of it as much as he did now. Every time they got to this point was special. Neil had spent years teaching them everything he knew so that one day they would be as good as him, and ideally even better. And soon, none of it would be in his hands anymore. Claire, Alex, Shaun, even Morgan ... They had grown into real doctors right in front of him. They had made mistakes, they had fought him, and each other, and the world, but they'd also found their own voices, their own convictions. And somehow, through all the long hours and relentless pressure, they'd become people he admired. Not just respected professionally, but admired. He didn't know why things were so different with them this time. He wasn't supposed to get attached, not like this. That had always been the rule. A rule that had applied unspoken to all his colleagues, one that he had made up for himself without ever giving it a second thought. Keep them at a distance, remain professional. But somewhere along the way, he had stopped being just an attending. He had become something else to them; A mentor, maybe a friend. Something more complicated, more real, in Claire's case. He hadn't asked any of them what they planned to do. Not yet. That wasn't how he worked. He respected their space, their process. Maybe some would stay, maybe some would take offers elsewhere. The conversation with Claire had come up a few times and she at least seemed certain that she wanted to stay and that took all the pressure off his shoulders, even if he admittedly didn't want to see any of them leave. These last years had been something. Intense, messy, unpredictable. But also the most meaningful work he'd done in a long time. Not just medicine. Teaching. He never said it out loud, but he cared more than he was supposed to, about all of them.

 

"So?" Neil raised his eyebrow and watched Audrey look at him challengingly. "How are you feeling about the whole ... situation?" Neil gave her a small, warm chuckle and shrugged.

 

"The ... situation?" Audrey gave him a long look, and he rolled his eyes in a mock-theatrical way. Of course, he knew what she was talking about, even without her being more direct. He'd felt her worried gaze on him when he'd talked to Jessica. Everyone had been looking at him, really. As if they'd expected him to make a scene in front of all these people, collapse, or run out the room as fast as he could. Many of them had looked at him as if they were only ready to absorb the latest hospital drama, only to share it with those who weren't there. But the people closest to him had had warmth in their gaze, concern. "You don't have to worry about me," he teased with a cheeky grin, and even though Audrey rolled her eyes, Neil couldn't help but notice the twinkle in her eyes.

 

"What would there be to worry about?" asked Jessica, suddenly appearing beside them as if by magic. Her gaze darted back and forth between the two of them, amused, and Audrey waved her hand dismissively, a smile on her lips but her brow furrowed. Neil knew her feelings toward Jessica were mixed. They'd never been particularly close, even though they'd gotten along well. But after she left, Audrey had occasionally let slip what she really thought about her.

 

"Audrey's worried my ego's getting to me because I've been getting compliments on my speech all night," Neil said casually, trying to defuse the tension a little. "Not that I can blame her. It was a pretty good speech." Audrey rolled her eyes.

 

"It's already gone to his head," she muttered, making the others laugh. Audrey looked over the two of them and cleared her throat before smoothing the fabric of her dress. "I'm going to head over to the donation box. There's a check with my name on it waiting to be deposited." Neil nodded and gave her a warm smile. They watched her leave, and Neil turned his full attention to Jessica.

 

"I hope I didn't interrupt." Neil shrugged and chuckled.

 

"Well, you did." Jessica smiled gently, but only just enough for him to notice. "It's okay, though. I think we have some catching up to do." Her features softened slightly, and her hand rested on his arm as if by reflex. Neil suppressed the urge to look at the spot where she touched. It was weird how familiar and strange a person could feel at the same time.

 

"Actually, I just came to say goodbye." Neil raised an eyebrow.

 

"You're leaving already?" She nodded, almost apologetically, and sighed as she rested her hands on her hips.

 

"Yeah, I'm still pretty jet-lagged, I need to lie down," she murmured, and when their eyes met, a slight smile appeared on her lips. "But I really want to see you again before I leave." Neil was a little surprised by the euphoria in her voice, but nodded automatically.

 

"Sure. How long are you here?" She pulled her phone from her clutch and raised her eyebrows, as she always did when she was focusing. A few thoughtful tones escaped her lips as she scrolled her fingers across the screen. Neil was already about to make a remark about her planning skills when she raised her gaze again.

 

"Next Sunday." Neil's smile widened a little as he shrugged.

 

"Sure, something should work out eventually." She nodded, and for a brief moment, their eyes locked. Neil remembered how it had felt to lose himself in her gaze, how it had given him a sense of infinity. He remembered imagining having little children with her eye color, and how they would be the most beautiful children in the world. And he remembered how it had felt when she had erased that image forever. He cleared his throat, and she flinched almost imperceptibly.

 

"Can I ask you something?" Her voice was warm, as before, but a little more cautious, and that made Neil's stomach clench. Her gaze was still warm, and something in her eyes made his heart break a little. He covered it with a crooked smile.

 

"Sure." Her eyes flicked over his face, her lips pressed gently together, and she exhaled softly.

 

"Are you happy?" Neil hesitated for a moment, not because he didn't know the answer, but because the question had caught him off guard. A few weeks ago, he wouldn't have been able to answer it, searching for the right words to even remotely describe what he'd felt. But now, things were different. His lips curved slightly upward.

 

"I am." His voice was warm, and he himself could hear how sincere he'd sounded. Jessica seemed to be thinking the same thing, because her smile widened a little, her hand rested on his arm again, her eyes sparkled.

 

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that." Neil had an idea, especially hearing the relief in her voice. He knew that when she'd left, she'd felt guilty, that he'd barely been able to hide how broken his heart was. She'd probably also been thinking about how he'd been doing over the past few years. He could sense it in her reaction. She'd already told him how proud she was of what she'd accomplished since they'd last seen each other, and he'd felt nothing but peace.

 

"Looks like everything turned out the way it was meant to," he said softly, so it was meant only for her. Jessica nodded and agreed with a melancholy smile. As hard as it had been to let her and their plans for the future go, sometimes letting go was the best thing to do, even if holding on was the only thing he'd known. His gaze swept the room, his eyes on autopilot, searching for Claire, but he still couldn't find her.

 

"Are you seeing anyone at the moment?" Neil raised his eyebrow as their eyes met again. He searched her eyes for any sign of discomfort, a hint of jealousy, perhaps, concern. But there was nothing but warmth and curiosity.

 

"Why? Are you trying to hit on me?" he asked amusedly, and Jessica laughed as if on cue, reflexively hitting him on the shoulder. When her laughter died down, the small laugh lines around her eyes were still visible.

 

"Yeah, I was just waiting for the right moment to pop the question." Neil chuckled, furrowing his eyebrows at the same time. "Let's leave our old lives behind and run away together." Neil laughed too, more surprised than amused, and shook his head. He didn't recognize that side of her, sarcastic, exaggerated - that wasn't her kind of humor, at least it hadn't been back then. For a moment, Neil hesitated, his gaze scanning the room, for Claire, but also for Audrey or anyone else he'd been fooling for weeks. He sighed softly and nodded.

 

"I am. And she's …" He couldn't think of the right words. How could he possibly explain to an outsider what kind of person Claire was, and more importantly, what kind of person she made him? He smiled warmly. "She makes me very happy." Jessica smiled too, a little surprised, but warmly.

 

"I'm happy for you, I really am." Neil nodded and smiled.

 

"I know, Jess. Thank you." Her features softened a little more before she shook her head to break the moment and pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time. She grimaced.

 

"Okay, I really have to go now," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. He returned the hug, which lasted a little longer than usual, and felt her sigh softly. "I'll get in touch and see you soon." Neil nodded, his hand still on her waist.

 

"Okay. It was good to see you again, Jess." She nodded, gave him another smile before she pulled away, and with a final wave, she disappeared. Neil watched her go until she was completely gone, maybe a little longer. It was strange how the evening had turned out, strange seeing her after all that, but even stranger was how he felt about it. Sure, he was an adult and had always expected to act like one when they met again. However, he hadn't anticipated how good it would feel. The bitter feelings he'd still had toward her were gone. Perhaps because he was no longer clinging to the past version of her - the version he was madly in love with and who had ripped his heart out of his chest - but now saw only the version she was today. Open, warm, and strange in all the right ways. She was no longer the one who had gotten away; she was simply a memory. Neil exhaled softly as he felt his phone vibrate. Maybe it was Jessica wanting to thank him for the evening; at least that wouldn't have been out of character for her. He raised an eyebrow as he opened the text message.

 

Claire Browne We need to talk.

 

Neil lifted his gaze from his phone and searched every face in the room. Still no sign of her. He couldn't remember seeing her again after their conversation, and when he'd walked away from her, there seemed to be no problem. His fingers were already moving across his screen, asking what was going on, when the next message arrived.

 

Claire Browne 1910

 

Neil furrowed his eyebrows as he read the message as if it were a cryptic riddle. It took him, he thought, an embarrassingly long time to figure out what she was trying to say. But as soon as he did, his heart began to beat faster. His eyes lifted and looked around the room, lost, even though he no longer expected to see her in the room; part of him expected the others to see it in his face, this secret in his hand. His mind raced as, without further hesitation, he discreetly headed toward the exit and the elevator.

She had booked a room - when? Had she planned the whole thing or was it a spur-of-the-moment action? What did she want to talk to him about? He had suspected that Claire had been a little jealous of Jessica, even though she had denied it until the end. Neil hadn't worried about it; he would have found it a bit cute if she hadn't been cold about the encounter - whether out of jealousy or concern. But had he been that wrong? He hadn't thought of Claire as the jealous type, but then he'd never seen her in a serious relationship. Neil glanced over his shoulder as he pressed the elevator button. When he realized he didn't see a familiar face, he got in and pressed the button for the 19th floor, his heart pounding in his throat. Was it excitement? Was it nerves? It was strange, because he had no idea what might await him up there. He raised his gaze and looked directly into the eyes of Morgan, who was just making her way back into the ballroom. She raised an eyebrow, her movement gladly slowing when she noticed him. Before Neil could even think of stammering out any kind of reply, which probably wouldn't have made it any better, the doors closed on him and he let a heavy breath escape his lungs. He would have thought that after weeks of lurking around, he'd finally become a little more subtle, but apparently that still wasn't the case. To keep his hands busy, or out of reflex, he adjusted his tie as he watched the number on the display climb higher and higher. The doors opened again and he stepped out, surprised by the sight that greeted him. The walls of the corridor consisted almost entirely of large windows through which he could see all the city lights. For a brief moment, he took a look out into the distance, breathing deeply and exhaling. There was something poetic about looking out at the city in the dark night when it was peaceful, quiet, and beautiful. Neil took another deep breath before searching for room 1910. His pulse racing in his veins, the way his fingers gripped his phone tightly, and his slightly uneven breathing didn't make it easy, but he swallowed it.

At the end of the long corridor, he found the correct room number, but checked it again with Claire's message. For a brief moment, he considered writing her a message, announcing himself, perhaps even asking again what it was about, but instead, he knocked on the door. Just once. And waited.

 

It wasn't long before he heard a soft click and the door opened a crack. Neil raised his eyebrow when Claire still didn’t appear. He hesitated for a moment before taking the open crack as an invitation to enter. As he entered the room, his eyes darted to every corner, but all the words stuck in his throat. Two of the walls were also completely lined with windows, the lights of the city at night shining softly in the distance. The sight had already left him speechless, but then his eyes landed on Claire, who stood in the middle of the room, considerably less uncertain than she had been the rest of the evening, but her gaze was unreadable. Neil opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he couldn't help but look her up and down. Her makeup was a little smudged, but her eyes sparkled, alert and warm, her hair flowing loosely over her bare shoulders. She stood barefoot on the parquet floor, her body radiating a certain tension.

"You look incredible," was all he could manage, because it was all he could think. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards slightly as she took a small step toward him. But that small movement was enough for Neil to notice the change in the air. He noticed it through the tingling on his skin, the warmth that spread throughout his body, and the air that caught in his throat. He knew that look in her eyes; he was lucky enough to have seen it on her face countless times, and each time his heart skipped a beat.

 

"You too," she whispered, her voice low and seductive. Neil managed a brief nod as their eyes locked. "I've been thinking," she continued, letting her hand brush the comforter as she took another step toward him. Neil was frozen as he followed her movements. Her eyes flicked back to his face. "We've had a few disagreements lately, haven't we?" A proper answer was out of the question; a brief nod was all he could manage, though he could barely follow her words as she began to move, striding across the room. She stopped in front of him, her gaze catching his immediately, and Neil swallowed hard. He lost himself in her eyes as he had so many times before, his throat dry, his heart pounding rapidly against his ribcage. "I don't like it when we argue," she said, a little quieter this time, her gaze serious.

 

"Me neither," he answered without hesitation and was about to reach for her when her expression brightened and her hand landed on his tie.

 

"Good," she whispered, her eyes never leaving him as she gently stroked the fabric with her fingers. "And I understand that you're in charge at work and none of us can change that." She gently bit her lower lip and looked up at him through her long eyelashes. Neil swallowed hard, watching every movement in her face as if in a trance. "But tonight you're not." The vulnerability in her voice didn't match her lascivious expression and made Neil hesitate. He caught the slight shadow in her eyes just before it disappeared. Her hand moved further up to his collar, her fingertips brushing the skin of his neck, and he felt the goosebumps burning on his skin. "I will do the talking,“ Neil's heart skipped a beat before it began to beat even faster. He was almost certain she could feel his pulse beneath her fingers, because her lips curved into an almost diabolical smile. He nodded cautiously. "Kiss me," she demanded, and that was all he needed.

His hands found her face like muscle memory, and he leaned forward so far that their noses were already touching before he hesitated briefly. Perhaps it was a tentative attempt to regain a bit of control, perhaps he simply wanted to savor this moment, but it didn't last. A second later, he pressed his lips against hers and sighed contentedly at the contact. She surrendered to him immediately, melting into his touch, her hands moving to his chest and anchoring themselves to his suit, pulling him even closer. Even if he had intended to kiss her slowly and gently, that intention immediately faded at the warm glide of her mouth against his and the way she exhaled against his lips. His movements became more demanding, her hands moving from his chest to the side of his neck, her thumb brushing his jaw. She was no longer pulling him; there was no room between them. With everything that had happened that evening, the glances across the room, the way she took his breath away even from a distance, it felt like an eternity since they'd been this close, and Neil made the most of every second. His breathing became more ragged, his veins burned, his skin tingled where it touched hers. He felt the rush overcoming him, his muscles moving as if on autopilot, catching her lower lip between his teeth and pulling it with a satisfied hum. Claire moaned softly against his mouth, and the sound was enough to drive him crazy. His hand went to her neck, pulling her closer, but before he could lose himself in the sensation, she pulled away, breathing heavily but with a cheeky smile on her lips. "That was nice," she murmured, gently brushing her finger over his lips. He stared at her, completely lost, but he could already see in her eyes what she was planning, and his breath caught immediately. Her hand went back to his tie, and with movements almost too slow, she began to loosen it. "You intimidate everyone else when you do that," she whispered, gently pressing her lips against his jaw. He closed his eyes as her warm breath hit the back of his neck.

 

"When I do what?" he breathed, but his voice was nowhere near as clear as it had been a few moments ago. Claire pulled away from him, looked into his eyes, and chuckled, gently tugging at his tie.

 

"Just ... standing there. Pretending you have everything under control." He chuckled back, but he felt dizzy, his mind unclear, as she finally freed him from the fabric around his neck. Her fingers moved to the fabric of his top and slowly undid the buttons, revealing a little more skin bit by bit. "But you don't, not now." Her hand rested on his bare chest, and Neil sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the warmth radiating from it.

 

"No," he breathed through gritted teeth, his eyes never leaving her as her hand moved from his chest, down his stomach, and over his abs. His muscles tensed under her touch, the air pooled in his lungs, and Claire watched him with a certain satisfaction that almost drove him crazy.

 

"Good," she murmured before pressing herself against him and kissing him again, this time without hesitation, her lips demanding and warm against his. His lips molded to hers, taking his own breath away. His hands automatically moved to the nape of her neck where he gently ran his fingers through her hair. A small smile crept onto her lips that he was only too happy to kiss, and he turned his head slightly, angling the kiss to taste her more, and she opened her lips without hesitation to allow his tongue entry. When his tongue slid against hers, teasing, unhurried, it wasn't rushed or clumsy. It was their shared heat pooling between their bodies, begging for release. She responded with a soft sound, her hands threading into his hair as her body leaned in instinctively. The kiss turned hungrier, their tongues moving in a slow rhythm that made time bend and fall away. Every brush, every breath, bringing them deeper together. Their bodies pressed together, she made a sound again, half moan, half whisper, and he lost it. His lips moved to her neck, and before he reached it, she turned even more toward him, offering him more skin, and he hungrily pressed his mouth to her pulse point. Gentle kisses at first, simply to feel the goosebumps beneath his lips as it spread across her body. As she began to peel his suit off, he felt her heartbeat, frantic and fast, just like his own. The movements of his mouth became more demanding, with each open-mouthed kiss drawing a soft sigh from her that he felt down to his bones.

 

"You know," he breathed against her neck, "If you'd told me this was the kind of conversation we were going to have, I would have been even more in a hurry to get here," he added, before gently biting her neck. Her fingernails dug into his bare shoulders and she tried, only half-successfully, to suppress the loud moan. Neil chuckled as his tongue continued to gently run over the pulsing skin of her neck. But Claire's hand landed on his chest and slowly pushed him away. Neil groaned in frustration, guided by his growing arousal, which longed for the sounds he could coax from her. Her tongue carefully brushed over her lower lip, and all his blood rushed to Neil's abdomen, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

 

"Maybe I don't want you to hurry," she whispered as her fingers slowly glided over his torso. Neil watched the movement as if in a trance, his lips still pulsing from her kiss, his throat dry with desire. "And stop looking at me like that." He clenched his teeth as her index finger brushed the edge of his belt.

 

"Like what?" Her eyes sparkled, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth as she approached again. His hands automatically found their way to her waist, pulling her closer, and she let herself be swept away. Her warm skin burned beneath his fingertips through the fabric of her dress, and he realized once again how beautiful she was. Before he could tell her so, she leaned forward, her warm lips gently touching the skin of his neck.

 

"Like you're still in charge." Neil's eyes fluttered closed as she made her way from his neck to his ear. A wave of heat coursed through his veins, his grip on her waist tightened, and when he exhaled, his breath came out hitching and heavy. He knew this side of her, dominant, demanding, and commanding, and he couldn't help but love it. As frustrating as it was sometimes that she often suppressed his dominant side, he couldn't help but become completely absorbed in it, being putty in her hands, doing whatever she said. She nibbled gently on his earlobe, and he felt it throughout his entire body.

 

"You are out of your mind," he whispered, his voice breaking halfway through. He felt her smirk against his neck before she pulled away a little.

 

"I know." Before he could reply or even think about finally taking what he craved completely, she pressed herself against him again. Her lips captured his in a powerful dance of lust and arousal as she gently pushed him back. And he let her, was completely powerless. He let her pull him deeper, let her push him toward the bed without protest. His body was a contradiction; every muscle tensed with the effort of not flipping the script, not picking her up, not pressing her body against him and his arousal, not touching her everywhere until she couldn't breathe - but his hand, his mouth, his breath, they all surrendered to her. He wasn't passive, he was still Neil, still entirely present, but he wasn't leading. Not when the backs of his knees touched the edge of the bed and she pressed him against it. Not when she looked at him with half-closed eyes, biting her lip, pushing up her dress and sitting on his lap. Not until a soft moan escaped both her lips and his as she pressed against his arousal. His hands found their way to her bare thighs, feeling the soft skin burn beneath his fingertips. She kissed him again, slower this time, but probably even more passionately than before. He felt his whole body yearn for her when her hands finally moved on to his belt, the blood pulsing deep in his lower body as he noticed her deliberate movements on the leather.

Neil moaned against her lips, his hands moving reflexively, pushing her dress higher and higher, his grip on her skin tightening as she gently bit his lower lip. Her hands became a little uncontrolled, confused, and Neil suppressed a smirk, instead letting his hands slide further up her legs in one smooth motion. Her breathing hitched intermittently as his fingers reached her inner thighs, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. Neil's body pulsed from his fingertips to his head and lower abdomen. He could feel her pressing herself harder onto his lap, felt her core pressing against him. He moved one hand slowly, cautiously and exploratively, until it brushed against the fabric of her panties. Claire flinched slightly, and for a brief moment her mouth fell open, and Neil swallowed her moan. He moved even a little further, until his hand was right between her legs. With just a little pressure, he moved his fingers in small circles, swallowing hard when he felt how wet she already was. It sent a wave of heat down his spine, encouraging him to apply a little more pressure. This time, instead of swallowing her moan, he let it echo around the room. That sound alone made Neil painfully aware of the bulge in his pants. His other hand went to her hip, steadying her, holding her in place. But the next moment, Claire slid off him in one swift movement. Where a moment ago he had felt her warmth pulsing beneath his fingers, there was now nothing but confusion. He looked up at her, and she smiled slightly as she reached out and gently brushed her finger over his lip, as if already anticipating the sly grin.

 

"I told you you weren't in charge today," she said almost casually, and as she probably already suspected, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly upward. She nodded slowly. "Besides," her foot brushed lightly against his leg, almost as if by accident. "I have a feeling these are starting to get a little tight." Claire pressed her lips together as their eyes met. Neil just stared at her, a little lost, a little overwhelmed, and completely irrevocably aroused. She cupped his face and leaned forward to capture his lips in a soft kiss. Her mouth brushed his gently, almost unbearably sweet, and Neil exhaled heavily through his nose, his breath shaky. Before he could even think about deepening the kiss, she pulled away a little, just so her lips could move further to his cheek. "Let's change that," she murmured, before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and then disappearing as quickly as she had come. With a deliberate movement, she finally freed him from his trousers, and yes, they had definitely been way too tight already. Neil's gaze was still fixed on her, and she seemed to be enjoying it a little too much as she crouched between his legs, letting her hands slowly wander up his thighs. His teeth clenched as their eyes met and he saw the sparkle in hers. "You're so quiet," she observed smugly, her fingers dangerously close where he needed them most. "It's so unlike you." The corners of her mouth twitched upward, and Neil laughed a humorless, husky laugh, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

 

"I'm trying,“ was all he managed to say, and she raised her eyebrow, clearly amused.

 

"Trying what?" Thinking was no longer possible for Neil; all his thoughts revolved around her fingers playing with the fabric of his underwear and the way she was kneeling between his legs. Claire still waited for an answer, but seemed satisfied by his desperate expression, because in one graceful movement, she stood up again, and Neil watched as she slipped out of the dress, slowly sliding it off her shoulders until it hung at her ankles. He swallowed hard, no longer sure whether she wanted to punish or reward him, but at least it felt like the sweetest punishment he could imagine. His eyes flicked over her entire body, which was now clad only in elegant underwear. How could she be so flawless? Neil was sure he could never get used to the sight, that his heart would pound in his throat every time, that his breath would catch in his throat every time. His fingers tightened around the sheets to stop himself from reaching out and kissing her unconsciously. Because yes, he really was trying, to do what she said, when she said it, but when she stood there in front of him - every curve perfect, every muscle taut - it took all the strength he had. She was still smiling when her finger landed on his chest. He felt the small nudge before he could realize it, but reflexively grabbed her wrist to pull her back with him, much to Claire's surprise, who exhaled in shock before giggling. Neil hadn't even really realized what had happened when she rolled off him, still grinning, but not without leaving one leg draped loosely over his hip. "You're such an idiot sometimes," she laughed, gently nudging him in the shoulder. Neil's mischievous grin ended in a grumbling laugh, his hand running down her side, pulling her even closer.

 

"Only with you," he murmured, gently brushing a strand of hair from her smiling face. Before he could say anything, she placed her hand on his cheek and pulled him toward her, and of course, he didn't keep her waiting. Their lips met again, warm and soft. It wasn't long before they lost themselves in each other, Claire still setting the pace and pressure, and Neil was only too happy to let her lead. He was already so lost in her, she could have asked him for anything, and he would have done it without batting an eyelid. His hand moved from her face to her shoulder, his thumb rubbing lazy circles into her skin. She smiled against his mouth, their lips sometimes brushing, sometimes not, intention taking over, instinct taking over, as her breathing caught as his hand moved further down her body. He felt every muscle tense beneath his touch, felt her body stretch towards him almost imperceptibly. And suddenly, she pressed all her weight against him and rolled him onto his back, wasting not a second before sliding into his lap. The breath was forced from Neil's throat the second she pressed down onto him. His eyes fluttered closed, but then he felt her lips on his again, her hair tickling him all over his face. His hands found her body, his fingers sliding up and down her bare back before sliding further down and grabbing her butt to press her harder against him. She opened her mouth and a soft moan crept out, feeling it throughout Neil's body.

His veins burned, his breathing hitched, as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. As if by reflex, he pressed even harder against her, and she understood immediately; her hips began to move slowly, and this time it was him who couldn't suppress the moan. Her warm core pressed against him, and he cursed every bit of fabric that stood in the way of direct physical contact. He wanted to feel her, every part of her, all of her warmth and wetness. Her hands moved to his chest, and she lunged down, almost making Neil protest as his lips tingled from the lack of contact. But when he saw her, crouching over him, shoulders square, chest rising and falling rapidly, the cheeky smirk on her face, the words caught in his throat. Instead, his hands found her thighs again, his eyes locking with hers as he focused on the sensation she was creating with the roll of her hips. Her eyes sparkled, powerful and full of lust. Her hands pressed harder against his torso as she grinded her lower body against him. He simply stared at her, mouth open, veins pumping, feeling every slight movement; the heat of her pressing against him was driving him nearly insane. Claire's breathing became more ragged, her eyes closed, and Neil's grip tightened as he felt the jolt of electricity traveling from his spine straight to his abdomen. She let out a loud moan before she could stop it, and Neil's hands responded immediately. They moved up her body and landed on the fabric of her bra, his fingers teasingly stroking it, and Claire's hips now circled faster on his as her hands moved to his neck.

 

"Come up to me," she murmured, and he didn't need to be told twice. He sat up and pulled her closer. She buried her moans in a passionate kiss that took Neil's last breath away. While one of his hands kneaded her butt, the other moved to the clasp of her bra, finally freeing her from the irritating fabric. She immediately leaned into his touch, her bare chest pressed against his. The warmth pooling between their bodies, her warm skin sliding against his, her breathing quickening, made Neil feel every vein in his body pulsing with lust and desire. His hands moved from her back, down her side, to her ribs, where she flinched slightly. She pulled away from him, foreheads pressed together, their eyes locked, as his fingers traveled up her stomach to her breasts. He cupped her gently, noticing Claire stretching toward him as his fingers gently stroked her soft skin. The corners of his mouth twitched upward.

 

"You're incredible," he murmured, touching her nose with his. She chuckled slightly, her hips moving faster against him. He gently stroked her nipples, feeling them harden beneath his fingertips. His hands massaged her, but his mind was caught in the rush, his throat dry, and the fabric separating his hardness from her warmth only frustrated him. "Can you take it off?" he asked cautiously, and she seemed to consider it for a moment, the twinkle in her eyes already betraying her intentions.

 

"Hmm, since you asked so nicely ..." Neil watched her silently as she slipped out of her underwear, more clumsily than elegantly, and freed him from his in the same breath. He exhaled heavily, glad to finally be rid of the fabric, and moistened his lips with his tongue, enjoying the sight as she crawled back onto his lap. His head stopped with his breath, all the blood in his body rushing straight between his legs as she straddled him, agonizingly far from letting him fill her, but close enough to let him feel all the accumulated heat and wetness that had been building up inside her. His hands moved to her butt again, pulling her closer to him, by now eager to finally feel the long-awaited sensation. Claire pressed her hands against his shoulders and raised an amused eyebrow. "Ah! Is someone getting a little overenthusiastic?" she asked, her voice innocent yet with an oh-so-diabolical undertone. Neil gritted his teeth and grunted in dissatisfaction, but loosened his grip and let his hands rest on her hips. Claire nodded contentedly. "Better." She began to move slowly again, and Neil closed his eyes, a tingling sensation spreading through his body and he felt his breathing become more uneven. She was warm and perfect, her wetness made her slide smoothly over his hardness, he felt himself pulsing beneath her, his hips jerking upwards as if it was asking her to finally really sit down on him. Her fingers tightened around his shoulders, but her movements also became a little more erratic - she was losing her mind, too. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, pulling him closer, and he kissed every part of her body he could find, while everything in him fought against bucking his hips toward her. Her lips traveled over his shoulders and to his neck, his eyes rolled back in his head, his fingers gently played with her nipples, and her moans against his skin only accelerated his movements. Her warm breath on his ear sent a wave of heat from his spine through his entire body. She bit gently, tugged carefully, before pressing a soft kiss to it.

 

"I want to touch you," he growled against her shoulder, knowing that she was in control, but unable to suppress the urge to pleasure her. She moaned at that, pressing herself down on instinct, and Neil's body responded immediately - if it were even possible for him to get any harder. A moan slipped through his teeth, before he started capturing her mouth in a fiery kiss.

 

"Well, then stop talking." He felt her desire, the tension in her body as his lips pressed passionately against hers, swallowing every moan she could no longer hide. In one smooth motion, he turned her so he was lying next to her, one of her legs hanging loosely over his hip, but he could already feel it trembling slightly. Neil smiled, his lips never leaving hers as his hand gently trailed over her shoulders, to her neck. He felt her pulse pounding rapidly beneath his fingertips, his thumb stroking her warm skin. Her hand closed around his wrist, holding him there for a moment. Something about it made Neil's heart clench, in the best possible way. She was usually always passionate, always driven by lust, and whenever he was affectionate with her, she quickly reclaimed control, almost as if she didn't want to let go completely. But now her body relaxed under his touch, even though every muscle, every inch of her skin seemed to be screaming for him.

He chuckled slightly when he noticed her impatiently pushing his hand down a little, and even though he already had a cheeky remark on his lips, he decided to swallow it and let his fingers wander further. Her breath caught when he reached her stomach and leaned down to kiss her neck, her grip on his wrist tightening. His own arousal made it almost impossible for him to think, but there was a fierce satisfaction in knowing he was the source of her pleasure, that every touch was unraveling her just like she was unraveling him. Neil’s tongue traced lazy circles over her collarbone, the soft flicks of moisture making her moan loudly. His lips barely parted, letting gentle breaths mingle with the warmth of his mouth. His fingers pressed into the small of her back, pulling her ever so slightly closer, anchoring her as desire tangled their bodies together. Claire’s hands slid up to cradle his face, fingers threading through his hair as she tilted her head, giving him more, inviting him to explore, and he did not hesitate. Her breath hitched with each flick of his tongue, the teasing slow dance of pleasure unraveling every inch of control she’d tried to keep. A soft moan slipped from her lips, enough to send a surge of heat through Neil’s body. He paused, eyes hooded with want. „Don’t hold back, I want to hear you,“ he murmured against her skin. She smiled, biting her bottom lip as her hands tightened their hold.

 

“Then don’t hold back either,“ she whispered, voice thick with need. His tongue traced down the curve of her shoulder, dipping lower, painting slow, soft strokes across the valley between her breasts. His fingers trailed from her back to the front of her waist, fingers dancing lightly over the smooth curve of her hip. With the back of his hand he gently pushed her legs apart, she let a sound escape her lips, something between a moan and a whimper and he grinned against her slightly damp skin. Neil's fingers, still not where she wanted them, trailed maddeningly slow patterns along the inside of her thigh. Each stroke came achingly close to slipping higher, but always just missed. Her muscles tightened beneath his touch, her hand moved back to his wrist and gripped it tightly, urging him to go lower.

 

"Just lay back, and let me have some fun," Neil said and kissed her cheek, then down to her chin before gently biting her lower lip, his fingers so close to where she needed him most, feeling the warmth radiating from her and leaning back enough to look into her eyes. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyelids heavy, cheeks flushed - she was beautiful. Neil didn't let himself beg any longer and let his hand wander down a little bit, keeping his eyes on her when he finally made contact with her and her back arched towards him, a husky sound leaving her lips. But she didn't stop him, she opened for him. He cupped her with gentle pressure, just letting his fingers rest there a moment, feeling the slick heat of her, the way her body reacted even to the softest touch. When he started to move; slow circles, precise and soft, she let out a quiet curse. He slid lower, spreading her open with just enough pressure to make her writhe. Neil's heart raced in his chest as he felt how wet she was and every muscle in his body tensed, trying to hold back. His thumb gently brushed over her clit just once, that was all it took to make her legs tremble. Neil grinned slightly before leaning towards her and capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. His fingers barely moved, only light, lazy movements in her needy skin. Her hand still gently wrapped around his wrist, but she let him move on his own, let him find the rhythm that made goosebumps run over her body, occasionally opening her mouth against his to release a soft moan that Neil tasted on his lips. His fingers didn’t move faster, they didn’t need to. He could feel every tremor that rippled through her as he kept that exact maddening pace, dragging just enough friction to make her arch, but not enough to push her over just yet. His other hand moved possessively against her lower back, grounding her, steadying her, felt every muscle tense under his fingertips. Neil’s thumb shifted slightly, just the slightest pressure, a barely-there circle that made her breath catch.

Her hands moved and pressed against his chest, sliding lower now, slow and a bit shaky, teasing over his ribs. He swore she could feel the way his heart had started to pound loudly. Her nails grazed lightly down his abdomen and he had to steady his breath, refusing to let the ripple of anticipation show. His fingers kept moving, smooth, knowing and he was watching her now. Watching the way she couldn’t stop her body from reacting, how her lips parted, how her hips moved in slow, needy rhythm against his hand. He pressed in a little deeper, a little firmer, watching for the moment her hips stuttered, her lashes fluttered and her breath came through her nose, slower now, trying to stay calm. His eyes never left hers, even as his fingers shifted, just subtly. The angle changed, the pressure changed, something changed, and Claire felt it immediately. Her eyes opened fully now, locking with his as her hand moved back to his. Neil couldn't suppress the chuckle, his tongue reflexively brushing his lower lip as she guided his hand again, less hesitant this time; he understood immediately and inserted two fingers, almost painfully slowly. Claire closed her eyes, her head falling back, her mouth opening slightly as he began to move cautiously inside her, just fast enough that she felt him everywhere, no direct rhythm. He kissed down her neck, finding her pulse point as if it were muscle memory, his teeth gently grazing her skin, and she moaned loudly, the sound echoing from his ear to his entire body. Neil bit harder, her hand pressed harder against him, and he couldn't hold back the groan as his fingers began to move faster. Her back arched against him, her entire body melting beneath his fingertips. He kissed her neck, slow and open-mouthed, as his fingers kept moving inside her; curl, withdraw, push, stroke. His thumb found her again, circling in time with each thrust of his hand. His thumb matched the speed, and as his fingers dug inside her, he gently ran it over her wet clit. Claire let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan, and Neil raised his eyebrow, though admittedly, her laughter turned him on even more.

 

"What?" he managed, his voice deeper before breaking off on a breath. Their eyes met, her hand went to his shoulder, and she shook her head, an exhausted smile playing on her lips.

 

"Nothing, just ..." She closed her eyes as Neil adjusted the direction of his thumb's movements. "You're killing me." Neil chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before repeating the motion. Her breath caught, her hips twitched again before she could stop herself, he pressed in again, that same exact motion, slow and deliberate, and watched her unravel just a touch more. His fingers were barely moving, he was dragging the pad of his thumb in slow, sensual circles and saw it in her face right then. This was the rhythm that drove her crazy. Her legs trembled just slightly on either side of him, her whole body was humming.

 

„I’m just getting creative,” he whispered. “You’ve always inspired that in me.” There was reverence in his voice, low and rough and impossibly turned on. Like every reaction of hers had etched itself under his skin. Then, without warning, he turned his fingers just like that, pressed in deeper, dragged that sweet spot inside her with a kind of cocky ease. Claire gasped, truly this time, her hand flying to his wrist, not to stop him, but to feel him. To hold on. Her forehead dropped to his shoulder for a moment, her teeth grazing the skin there, biting back something primal. But Neil felt her hips rocking against his hand now, no longer almost still, chasing his rhythm.

He heard her breath hitch each time his fingers found the right spot. His thumb never strayed, working soft, torturous circles that shifted just when she thought she could predict the rhythm. He could feel her inner muscles tightening around him, his own arousal pressed almost painfully against her leg. She was close, he could feel it, in the way her breathing became labored, the sounds she made rising in pitch, her pulse beneath his fingertips, and her pressing ever harder against his hand. He held her trembling legs apart with his knee, her fingernails digging into his shoulder and the skin of his wrist, but he barely felt it, too intent on maintaining the rhythm of his thumb, his gaze fixed on her, watching every muscle in her face twitch. He curled his fingers once more, and that was what was setting Claire on fire. Her breath caught in her throat and for a moment she held completely still before her body began to shake. Neil gently pushed his fingers in a little deeper as her loud moans echoed through the room, his lips finding her neck and kissing her sweat-damp skin as every muscle twitched beneath him. He held her through it, still stroking her gently, whispering quiet things he didn't even think about. His movements slowed, his thumb gently stroking her sensitive clit, never breaking contact as he leaned away slightly to look into her face. Her legs still twitched softly around him as her breathing slowly calmed, her eyes still closed, her lips parted. Neil smiled gently; he would have no problem doing this forever, seeing her like this for the rest of his life, her face and body completely relaxed. She opened her eyes slowly and was already smirking as she looked into his grin.

 

"God, you're so smug." Neil laughed lightly and leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips.

 

"I'd say that's justified," he commented casually, his fingers beginning to move a little faster again, and he could feel her body responding immediately. He raised his eyebrow in satisfaction, and she shook her head, laughing, but Neil already heard the husky undertone in her voice. "What? You wanted me to touch you." Claire bit her lip, her eyes closing for a brief moment as her breath hitched in her throat. Her fingernails scratched almost reflexively against his skin, and Neil was more than satisfied with the reaction to his touch. But when he began to gently twist his fingers inside her, her eyes opened, the sparkle in them sending a shiver down his spine.

 

"Move," she said with a small grin, and the way she said it made Neil's heart race against his ribcage. He furrowed his brows, but before he could say anything, she pressed herself against him and rolled on top of him. Neil wanted to complain, already missing the warmth around his fingers, but when she began kissing his chest, all words died on his tongue. Her hands were even faster moving down his body, her warm fingers stroking his stomach, over his ribs, every muscle tensing under her touch. Neil had trouble keeping his eyes open, waves of heat burning down his body, his breathing hitching as her lips reached his abs, her tongue slowly flickering over them. "Dr. Melendez, always so arrogant," she murmured, sliding even further down. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her, but he laughed a hoarse laugh. Hearing his formal name coming out of her mouth in this situation was a fantasy that had been ingrained in him for who knew how long, and Claire had figured that out very early on. "Already very happy so see me, I see," Her breathing was something between teasing and anticipation as she let her fingers wander lightly over the inside of his thighs.

"Thanks for the update" he managed, his voice barely above a breath. "I almost didn't notice," he added sarcastically, already painfully aware of how much he was happy to see her. Claire raised an amused eyebrow, her fingers gently stroking his length, and he gritted his teeth.

 

"You talk so much," she observed amusedly, before her index finger landed on his lips, silencing him. Neil seized the opportunity and playfully bit her finger. "Ouch!" She laughed in surprise, which made Neil chuckle with satisfaction. He loved hearing her laugh, making her laugh, especially in a situation like this. But the grin immediately faded as she brought her finger to her own mouth and began sucking on it, as if soothing the bite wound. Neil's heart stopped, his mouth hanging open as he watched her innocently continue her absolutely lascivious movements. "I guess I'm not doing it right yet," she said with a low hum, but before he knew it, she slid down a little further, her green eyes boring into his. One of her fingers wrapped around him, then two. She stroked him slowly, tight, base to tip, eyes never leaving his. Neil forced his eyes to keep open, his throat dry, hot shivers running through his body from head to toe. She grinned and bit her lip.

"That's better," she breathed, leaning her head down agonizingly slowly. He watched as she moistened her lips, his pulse now hammering deep in his abdomen. And the second her tongue made contact, gentle and slow at first, Neil arched off the bed like he'd been electrocuted. She flattened her tongue and licked him from base to tip, unhurried, watching him fall apart under the touch, watching every twitch of his abs, every tremble of his thighs. He was so sensitive already, every flick of her tongue pulling another sound from his throat. She sucked him in deep, let her mouth stretch around him, slow and tight and intentional hands pinning his hips as he bucked up, completely undone. Neil threw his head back, his fingers fisting the sheets. He was muttering broken things by this point, incoherent, desperate, almost afraid of how good it felt. Claire was slowly gliding her lips down to his base, rubbing her tongue over the throbbing vein on the underside of his length and he was actually sure he did black out for a few seconds. The pleasure was immense.

 

"God, Claire, you have to -," he managed, but the words ended in a loud moan. Her mouth, searing with heat and wetness expertly moved around him whilst her free hand trailed along his thigh before cupping the rounded flesh, tightening her hands around it. She slowly raised her head, sucking sensually on the head of his length, her fingers teasingly rubbing along. He didn't know if she was from heaven or hell, maybe both, but this woman was a mess. A dirty, beautiful mess, and Neil loved every moment of feeling her, even if it pushed him to the limits of his sanity. She increased the pressure around his length, the sounds of her wet mouth gliding and sucking all the way from the tip of his length down to the bottom was the only sounds, bar his ragged breathing.

 

„Hmmm," she murmured, unwrapping her lips from his tip and placing gentle fluttering kisses to it instead.

 

"Claire ...," he tried again, his voice no more than a soft plea. Claire looked up at him through her long eyelashes, a smug grin on her lips.

 

"What?" she asked, her hand still gently rubbing up and down his body. Neil groaned in frustration. "Do you want more?" Neil nodded, out of breath, but when she began to lower herself again, he grabbed her wrist, and she looked up, puzzled.

 

"Come up." His voice was weak, and something about it made the corner of Claire's mouth twitch upward. She seemed to consider it for a moment before she began to smirk and slowly let him pull her up. "Let me," he murmured against her lips as she began to kiss him gently. His hands moved to her waist, and when he felt her smile on his mouth, he gently turned her so that she was pressed into the mattress. She giggled softly and sighed contentedly as she laced her fingers behind his neck. Neil lost himself in the sight of her, confident, probably just as aroused as he was, but with that softness in her eyes that made his heart race every time.

 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked quietly, a little amused, a little confused, as his gaze held her captivated even longer. The words were already faltering on his tongue, so he said nothing, kissed her instead - slowly and intensely. How could he have told her? That even now, sometimes it didn't feel real? That sometimes he was afraid to close his eyes because maybe it had just been a dream, too good to be true. Claire immediately leaned into the kiss as he positioned himself between her legs, his anticipation already more than painfully obvious. Neil pulled away, pressing a small kiss to her nose before losing himself in the green of her eyes again.

 

"Ready?" Claire rolled her eyes and sighed. She always teased him about being too cautious with her, but her features softened as she nodded gently.

 

"Yes. Come inside me. Please." Neil swallowed hard, and Claire bit her lip with a smile, knowing exactly what effect she had on him. He felt her warmth and softness as he positioned himself at her entrance, and he could have sworn he would never get used to the feeling. How it felt as he pushed himself inside her, slowly, inch by inch, how perfectly she fit around him, as if their bodies were made for each other. Her grip tightening around his neck, her breathing caught, her eyes closed, and every muscle in her body relaxed. "You feel so good," she sighed. The warmth spreading around him sent shivers down his spine, and only when he filled her completely did he stop for a brief moment. She opened her eyes and smiled slightly. Neil moved his hips gently, watching every muscle in her face contort with pleasure. He repeated the same movement, maintaining the same painfully slow rhythm, eagerly anticipating every desperate sound from her throat. "Don't hold back, I can take it," she breathed with a slight smirk, which he kissed directly into her. His hand moved down her body, his teeth gently tugging at her lower lip.

 

"Trust me," he said simply as his hand reached her leg and positioned it against his hip. His grip tightened, but he maintained his speed. She rolled her eyes impatiently again, but couldn't hide the soft gasps that crept from her throat. Her hands slowly moved over his collarbone and shoulders as her legs closed around his hips. Neil adjusted the angle slightly and immediately noticed the difference; her moans grew slightly louder, her fingertips pressed deeper into his skin. He maintained the angle, thrusting gently once more and watching her face relax. His hips moved in a slow rhythm. "Right there?" he asked, before gently biting her earlobe.

 

"Yes, just like that," she breathed softly, the words ending in a moan of pleasure. Neil smirked smugly and contentedly into the skin of her neck. She was everywhere, her breath in his ear, her nails dragging down his back, her thighs tightening around his hips, pulling him in again and again. The heat between them was unbearable, his muscles straining with the effort to hold on just a little longer, to feel her, to give her everything before he let go. She started to move slowly with him, but let him take the lead. His hand gripped her thigh again, a little harder this time, as he buried his own moan against her throat. Her wetness, her warmth, her softness, the way her breath caught and the movements of her hands became more and more erratic made Neil's lower body burn with passion and desire, but he fought to maintain the angle that drew those sweet, high-pitched sounds from her. The way she moved beneath him, tight, slick, perfect; it was driving him insane. He was deep inside her, slow and hard, but the pressure was unbearable now, coiling tighter with every roll of his hips. His body was straining, like if he let go even a little, he’d lose control completely. She moaned his name, and it gutted him. Made his rhythm stutter. Their bodies met again and again, slowly building pressure between them with every thrust. She moaned softly with each one, her legs wrapping tighter around him.

 

"God, Claire, you are - " His voice broke, followed by nothing but a few incomprehensible words, maybe just breathing, which came out haltingly. He moved slowly, her ankles digging deep into his lower back, encouraging him to go deeper and soon they were pressed together, Claire just as eager as he was, her moans echoing around the room, fingers pressing deep into skin, scratching and biting and soon Neil could feel her warm walls tightening around him, tight and hot and impossibly good. Each roll of his hips sent the pressure spiraling higher, and still he held on, gritting his teeth, eyes locked to hers, needing to feel all of it. The sweat on his back, the scratch of her nails, the soft gasp she let out when he hit that spot just right. His lips moved from her lips to her neck, licking every inch he could reach, her hands burying themselves in his hair and when a husky moan escaped her lips, she tugged less timidly. Neil's moans grew louder, Claire's breathing more and more ragged, their wet bodies sliding closer together. And when Claire came, Neil felt it throughout his entire body, in the way she tightened around him, the way her legs pressed him even closer, her fingers digging into his skull, and every muscle in her body twitching around him. Once her breathing had regained some control, the movement of his hips accelerated. Claire cupped his face and pulled him into a passionate kiss that burned through every vein in his body.

 

"Cum inside me," she whispered against his lips and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. The moan left him before he could stop it. A white-hot surge shot through him, violent in its sweetness, his thrusts faltering as he came hard, pulsing inside her with a force that left him shaking. His body tensed, shuddering as pleasure ripped through him in waves, so deep it almost hurt. He gasped her name, or maybe just air, he wasn’t sure anymore. Every vein, every nerve lit up, as if his body couldn’t contain it all. His vision blurred. For a second, he wasn't in his body, he was just sensation. Heat, release, here. He collapsed into her, shaking with the aftershocks, his breath ragged against her neck. Heart pounding. Skin flushed. Her hands were on his back, soft now, soothing. He didn't want to move. Didn't want the moment to end. He stayed inside her, chest heaving, clinging to the sound of her heartbeat against his. Still throbbing. Still gasping. She was smiling. He couldn’t see it, not fully, his face was still buried against her neck, breath slowly returning, muscles useless, but he felt it. That smug little curve of her lips against his temple. The kind of smile that meant trouble.

 

“You okay there?” she whispered, voice hoarse, teasing. “Already ready for round two?” He lets out a low, wrecked laugh against her skin, the sound barely holding shape.

 

“I love this side of you.” Her chest shook beneath him as she laughed, breathless and warm, her fingers lazily tracing patterns along his spine.

 

"I love that side of you too. You know, the one that does whatever I say," she murmured. He finally lifted his head, barely. Hair a mess, pupils blown, face flushed; but when he looked at her, all he could do was shake his head and grin, dazed and half in love.

 

“You can tell me what to do all night long, I won’t complain.” He leaned down again, brushing his mouth against hers, slow, soft, the kind of kiss that tasted like sweetness and lust all at once. She laughed again, quietly and sweetly, before biting his bottom lip, just enough to make him groan.

 

"Then come back to life. I'm not done with you yet." And just like that, he felt it spark again; low and hot. This woman was going to kill him. And that would be an ending he would be excited to move toward.

 

---

 

Notes:

Well, it was time to let of some steam, I'd say. Our cuties deserved some time alone.
(Don't worry, I won't let you wait this long again for another spicey chapter. Sue me.) 😌 and for those of you wondering - yes, we will get to see Neils dominant side a bit more in the future 😉
Let me know when something will be too much in a chapter, I'm always a bit unsure.

Anyway. Have a happy weekend. See you next week!

Chapter 16: No doubt in my mind where you belong

Notes:

So, last chapter was fun. Now we have to deal with the consequences, right?
Let's be open with each other.

 

---

 

The city lights were shining in the distance, an airplane traced a trail of white clouds across the sky, but Neil was oblivious to all the beauty unfolding outside the window. He was far too caught up in the beauty beside him, in the way he could feel her heartbeat beneath his fingertips, in the way she looked at him when she recounted a particularly interesting part of the story. It had been a few hours since he'd left the charity event to talk to Claire, but he couldn't say exactly how much time had passed, nor did he want to know. It was always like that with her, as if she felt most comfortable in the safety of darkness, blossoming anew each time, a bundle of energy that could only too easily keep him from sleeping. Neil didn't know what it was that felt different that evening, or why, he only knew that it did. She seemed more exuberant and, in some way, less withdrawn. She had opened up to him a lot in the last few weeks, but Neil was neither blind nor naive. He knew it would take time, trust, even if it felt as if everything between them had already become second nature. Still, she had closed herself off at first, as if she didn't quite want to trust everything between them yet. And Neil watched quietly, unobtrusively, and more than happily as she thawed more and more and no longer seemed to feel the need to hide. Her touches became gentler, more intimate. And now she lay in his arms, her fingers entwined with his under the blanket, telling him in great detail about the surgery she had performed with Lane yesterday. Neil asked questions, nodded, but he didn't seem to hear a word, too lost in the light reflected in her eyes. There she was. His Claire. The Claire he had fallen for countless times before; light, carefree. Her voice, which always rose a little higher when she spoke euphorically, laughing as if she had never been hurt by anything or anyone. There was so much light, so much life in her, despite everything she'd been through, despite everything she'd lost. Sure, he still looked up to her even when she'd been so desperate that tears welled up in her eyes, when she started arguments that had no deeper meaning, when she said things she regretted the next moment, but this … this version of her, was something Neil didn't know how it could even exist. Maybe that's why she captivated him so much, maybe that's why he still couldn't understand what he'd done to deserve someone like her. Someone who gave the world so much more than she'd ever received. It was a mystery to him how she didn't seem to see his many faults, how she was with him, despite everything that had come between them, despite the worries that being with him had caused her. And moments like this, when his heart seemed to leap out of his chest simply because she seemed so happy, so complete, were becoming more and more frequent. And he hoped he could contribute at least a small part to that.

"Why can't I shake the feeling you're not really listening to me?" she asked with a slight smirk as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. Neil shrugged, not wanting to be caught so easily.

 

"I don't know, you tell me," he replied with a slight smile on his lips. He watched her eyes narrow as she studied him, her mouth slightly pursed as a low, thoughtful hum escaped her.

 

"I don't know, maybe it's because you keep staring at me." Neil moistened his lips and gave a slight grin, then shook his head briefly.

 

"I didn't know it was a crime to enjoy looking at beautiful women." Claire paused for a brief moment before rolling her eyes and groaning in annoyance.

 

"God, why do I even like you?" Neil's grin turned into a loud laugh, and Claire quickly turned so she was lying on her stomach, her lips curling into a slight smile.

 

"You like me, huh?" he asked sarcastically, noticing the blush creeping into her cheeks. "Probably because of my good looks." Claire frowned, smirking, but let it go. With a loud sigh, she rolled back onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, her tongue gently grazing her lip.

 

"Hmm, okay. Then tell me, what's the last thing I said," she demanded, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. Neil had been listening to her, even if only casually, and he knew exactly what she'd said. But the cheeky grin had already crept onto his face as he grumbled softly.

 

"That you're madly in love with me, that you're having the best sex of your life with me," he said with a smug tone, but as dryly as possible. Claire raised her eyebrow, obviously amused, as she turned her head toward him and studied him. Neil held her gaze, even as she narrowed her eyes.

 

"So you were actually listening." Her voice was sarcastic, albeit warm. Neil couldn't help but chuckle, and for a moment, the feeling lingered. Sarcastic, loving, and teasing. But then Neil put his arm around her and pulled her closer, and she let herself be pulled along, despite her low grumbling. "So," he began again, drawing out the word. "Tonight ..." Claire turned her head and caught his eye.

 

"Was fun?" she finished, a sultry smile on her lips. Neil hesitated for a moment, raising his eyebrow. He wasn't sure he could describe it all in one word, and he was actually getting at something else, but he nodded anyway.

 

"That's quite an understatement, but yeah, sure." Claire laughed softly and shook her head. She furrowed her eyebrows and watched him for a moment, her lips pursed in a smile.

 

"Looks like you're starting to enjoy being bossed around a little after all." Neil sucked in a breath and expelled it in a low laugh. Reflexively, his grip on her waist tightened.

 

"I hate how much I like it." Claire bit her lip slightly, the twinkle in her eyes not entirely innocent.

 

"Noted." Neil chuckled too, as if by reflex, his gaze fell back on her mouth, but before he could get any stupid ideas, she turned her head away and sighed. Her hand rested on his arm, her fingers tracing small circles on his skin, and for a while it stayed that way. Warmth, togetherness, the moments after a night like that. The silence was comfortable, even if Neil's mind was racing, in the best possible way. "I know I haven't been easy lately," she began, turning her head toward him.

 

"You're still not," he said with a warm smile, which she immediately returned. But then her gaze became a little more serious, and Neil realized she where she was getting at. They had never really talked about what had happened between them in Maya's case, and the naive part of Neil had hoped they wouldn't have to anymore. But he had seen it in his relationship with Audrey and, to some extent, in Jessica; how quickly something could break because something came between them, that they kept quiet. The last thing he wanted was to let things go wrong with Claire. He sighed softly, her gaze immediately landed on him again, and the brief flash of worry in her eyes made Neil's stomach clench. As if she had been waiting for it to become too much for him at some point, and had already mentally prepared herself for it. He knew why Maya's case had affected her so much, why it had been difficult for her to maintain professional boundaries, but Neil also knew that this wasn't an Individual case and that a situation like this could arise again at any time. "Listen, Claire," he began, but immediately regretted it when he saw her brows furrow. He placed his hand on her cheek, and almost immediately she relaxed, sighed softly, and closed her eyes for a brief moment. "We have to leave all of this out. If it's just us ... we have to find a way. We're going to disagree more often in the future. All of this ..." He frowned. "This has to stop." She nodded slowly, but her features were nowhere near as relaxed as they had been a few minutes ago. She seemed to hesitate before giving a barely perceptible shrug.

 

"You won't be my boss forever." Neil sighed, his hand moving down her body again before stopping on her thigh.

 

"No, but even after that. Do you really think you can turn all of this off just because you're not my resident anymore?" Claire hesitated again before lowering her gaze.

 

"Probably not." Neil lifted her chin with his finger, bringing her to look at him. He smiled slightly, warmly.

 

"No, because you're stubborn." She rolled her eyes.

 

"Just like you," Neil's expression became a little more serious, and he sighed again. He looked past her, out the window, and thought for a moment about what to say, but the words had been on his tongue for so long that it was almost difficult to finally say them.

 

"That's exactly the problem." She raised an eyebrow but didn't answer right away. "I don't want to constantly worry about saying the wrong thing or contradicting you, for fear that it will change things between us." She nodded curtly.

 

"I don't want that either." Neil smiled briefly, but the weight still rested on his shoulders, a burden that had repeatedly weighed him down over the past few weeks, a weight that always made him feel like he had to walk on eggshells around her.

 

"Our relationship won't change how I behave at work or what my opinions are on certain issues. But nothing that might happen at work will change how I feel about you, and I want you to know that." He exhaled heavily through his nose, almost pulling away when he noticed the shadow in Claire's eyes that she'd been hiding from him more often lately.

 

"I know. And I trust you," she said softly, but her voice was strong and confident. Neil smiled gently, not realizing how much those words would mean to him, coming from her. Not that he hadn't already felt it, in the way she gave herself to him, a little more each time, the way she smiled at him when she shared her darkest thoughts with him, already knowing he wouldn't hurt her. But it was special to hear it, to feel it in every part of his body. Because there was something about Claire that had made him trust her, even before he'd really known her. Sure, as colleagues, especially in medicine, they had to be able to rely on each other, but with her, it ran deeper, as it always had. She was the kind of person who was so easy to trust, because she didn't play games and always thought from her heart. That she thought the same way about him wasn't a surprise to him, but he couldn't deny that it made warmth course through his body when he got confirmation of it.

 

"We have to find a way to make this all work. How we can work." For a long moment, there was silence between them, what had been said hanging around them like a heavy cloak, the air between them more tense than it had been all evening.

 

"I know. I want that too." His fingers gently stroked her skin as he watched her mind working. She didn't seem hurt, but cautious. When their eyes met again, she seemed a little more distant. "Are you sometimes afraid that things won't work out between us?" There it was, the question Neil had subconsciously been waiting for for quite some time, perhaps because he'd so often asked himself the same. Was he actually afraid of it, or had he just been prepared for it? Everything with Claire still felt so much like a dream that Neil rarely dared to really look into the future, with real intentions and not just naive hope. Because yes, lately there's been a lot of room in his head for future thinking, for imagining evenings together, trips, or Sundays spent in bed together. And yes, sometimes, when she was asleep and he silently watched her, he let himself be carried away and think of even more. Sometimes maybe even children, a house together. Family. He frowned.

 

"I think there's no point in thinking about that," he said finally, a little more quietly than before. "We don't know what lies in the future; we can only work on it together now." Claire grimaced, unimpressed, and Neil could almost understand; His answer was almost too vague even for him. He sighed, knowing full well what a trap he would fall into if he mentioned Jessica, especially tonight, but he decided to be completely honest anyway. "I always thought things with Jessica would be forever, but they weren't. I never gave any thought to whether it would work out or not, and now we're here," he added with a slight chuckle, because he didn't want her to take it the wrong way that he mentioned her. Claire's face showed no emotion, but that was usually an even greater sign that something was going on inside her.

 

"Do you think you'd still be with her today if she'd wanted children?" Her voice was warm and open; there was no indication that the thought hurt her, but Neil sighed softly anyway. A faint smile crept onto his lips as he took his time answering. He thought about the conversations he'd had with Jessica that evening, how she'd become a stranger to him, even though he'd once thought he'd spend the rest of his life with her.

 

"I don't know, maybe," Neil finally admitted. It was difficult to answer that question from a neutral perspective. He'd wished for so long that things would work out between them somehow, but at the point in his life where he was now, with all the knowledge he now had, with Claire by his side, and with the development he'd undergone, he couldn't imagine what it would be like to be with Jessica. And he couldn't imagine ever having wanted that. "If we'd had children together, then probably." Claire nodded understandingly and gave him a small smile. Neil was always someone who fought for love, who held on to what he had. He came from a broken family and would give anything so his children could have a different life. Claire was silent for a while, her fingers stroking gentle, small circles over his chest, her breath warm against his skin, her muscles relaxed. Neil closed his eyes for a second, staying in that moment a little longer. Claire gave him so much without even realizing it, and he would probably never be able to understand that. He thought about how liberating and complete it had felt to admit that there was someone like her in his life. Even if it had only been infront of Jessica, who would be miles away again next week. But just saying it, feeling those words, that truth on his lips, was like breathing a sigh of relief for the first time in a long time.

 

"Are you happy with how things turned out? The way things are now?" she asked quietly, and Neil slowly opened his eyes, looked into her worried face, and everything inside him shrank. His finger moved to her cheek, then to her eyebrow, stroking it gently and smiling warmly.

 

"Of course I am. You're overthinking." Claire looked away, her brow furrowed, her body tense.

 

"It's just ... you loved her so much. It's just a little strange seeing you together now." Neil hated that tone in her voice. No sadness, no jealousy, not even doubt. It was as if she assumed she could never live up to what Jessica had once given him, as if he were incapable of looking forward. Neil sighed and shook his head.

 

"I did. And I had my heart broken." Claire hesitated, her gaze uncertain. Neil turned and leaned on his elbow. She caught his gaze immediately, and her features softened right away. "I don't know what's going on in your stubborn head," he began, gently pressing his fingers against her temple, which brought a small smile to her face. "But Jessica and I ... that's in the past. Yes, I loved her, with all my heart, but it just wasn't meant to be between us." He thought about how happy she'd been for him when he'd told her about Claire, how sincere it had seemed, and how much it had meant to him. "I don't want to say the relationship I had with her didn't mean anything to me, but when I think about what makes me happy, it's this." He pressed a kiss to her nose, then one to her cheek. "You make me happy," he whispered against her chin. "Whether you like it or not," he murmured against her neck, feeling her body twitch as she began to laugh softly. Her hand found its way to the nape of his neck, her fingers playing with his hair.

 

"Okay, okay, I get it." Neil grinned against her neck.

 

"I'm not so sure about that." His teeth gently grazed her soft skin before he bit down a little harder.

 

"Ouch! I said I get it," she laughed and pushed him away. When their eyes met, Neil was mischievous as ever, and Claire's face had also returned to lightness. He wondered what seeing Jessica again had triggered in her, and he made a mental note to go into it in more detail later. Even if he didn't immediately sense jealousy in her, he didn't want any unnecessary insecurities to take root in her. But in that moment, as he fell onto his back and she pressed herself against him, head on his chest, legs locked with his, he simply enjoyed the silence with her. She just shifted slightly so her cheek fit more perfectly against his chest, like she belonged there. Neil’s arms instinctively tightened around her, his thumb brushing lazy circles against the curve of her shoulder. Her breath was warm against his chest, slow and even now, and Neil could feel the rise and fall of her body syncing with his. His chin rested lightly against the top of her head. Every so often, he tilted it just enough to press the softest kiss into her hair, so light it was barely there. Her knee, bent and resting over his hip, was warm through the thin layers between them, she shifted a little, just enough to make a sleepy sound and nuzzle closer. He opened his eyes for a second, just to watch her; not her face, hidden beneath strands of hair and the dip of his shoulder, but her. The way her hand lay near his heart. The gentle drag of her knee as it shifted against his leg. The quiet way she breathed him in, like maybe she’d finally let herself feel safe enough to just be. He closed his eyes to this sight, thinking he would never get used to it, even if he tried. "Sometimes I can't believe this is all real," she whispered into the darkness, and Neil jerked his eyes open. She was already watching him, a little sleepier than before, but just as warm.

 

"What do you mean?" She bit her lip, embarrassed, and looked away again. Neil raised his eyebrow skeptically, but with a slight smile, as she gently ran her fingers over his abs. For a brief moment, there was silence between them; Neil focused on Claire's steady breathing and the way her hand came to rest on his chest. His hand slowly moved up and down her back, not to get her to talk, but to show her she could take her time.

 

"You really make me happy, too," she said, almost a little too quietly, and Neil's movement stopped instantly, her words seeping into his bones. His heart began to race, and he was sure she'd notice, because her head turned slightly on his chest. "It's just something I wasn't expecting." Neil chuckled against her head, his hand beginning to move again as the silence settled over them once more. He almost shook his head, it had seemed so absurd; he'd had the same thought himself a few minutes ago, wondering how it could all be real, but hadn't dared to bring it up because it had seemed too cheesy. His hand moved to the back of her neck, his fingers threaded through her hair, and she let out a heavy breath, whether from contentment or relief, he couldn't say. For another moment, Neil was silent, his chest suddenly feeling tight, in the best possible way.

 

"Sometimes I can't believe you're real," he said just as quietly, and was surprised when Claire laughed sarcastically. She raised her eyes and met his. Her eyebrow rose slightly as she studied him.

 

"Now you're making fun of me," she complained with an amused tone, and Neil chuckled broadly but shook his head.

 

"No, I'm not. I mean it." Claire rested her chin on his chest, her eyebrows furrowed, but her gaze thoughtful. Neil shrugged before exhaling deeply. "You don't realize the impact you have on the people around you." She opened her mouth to protest, but Neil shook his head, not letting her slip away with a deflection. "You have such a big heart, you're messy, stubborn, and give everything without even realizing it. And yet you're always surprised when someone wants to give something back," he continued, a little more gently this time. Her features softened slightly, the corners of her mouth twitching upward the tiniest bit. "You don't see it, but I do." He hesitated, watching her bite her lip, somewhat ashamed. "I've always seen it." She didn't quite seem to know what to say to that, her lips pressed together, her eyes studying every movement in his face. Her gaze became soft, warm, as if she already knew it all. She grinned, as if to take the weight off his words, and scooted up a little, burying her face in his neck. Her warm breath on his skin made him close his eyes contentedly.

 

"Ah, so that's why I like you," she said sarcastically after a moment, and Neil snorted a dismissive laugh. He sighed as he felt her find his hand under the covers, their fingers intertwined. She was quiet again, her head resting just under his chin, breathing even and slow, fingers still tangled with his like she didn’t plan on letting go anytime soon. Neil couldn’t stop watching her. The curve of her mouth softened in sleepiness, the way a loose curl framed her cheek, the gentle rise and fall of her chest against him; every detail of her felt familiar now. Not in the way routines became dull, but in the way home became a feeling he carried with him. She was that feeling. He didn’t need to think about it, the truth had settled in him a long time ago, like something he knew had to happen at some point. It wasn’t loud or urgent, it just was. A plain fact that only grew stronger each time she looked at him like he was more than he ever believed himself to be. Her thumb brushed slowly across his knuckles, and that simple gesture made his heart beat faster. He’d never known peace like this. Not when he was alone, not when he was with people he cared about. It wasn’t the absence of chaos that made it peaceful; it was her. Her presence, her warmth, the way she anchored him without even trying. His chest felt tight, but not in a painful way. Like something full, something too big to hold back for much longer. She shifted slightly, her hand smoothing over his chest like she was unconsciously checking he was still there. Neil closed his eyes for a moment, letting the feeling sink deeper, settle low in his stomach. She didn’t know what she was doing to him, or maybe she did. Maybe that was what made it worse, and better. He opened his eyes again, gaze trailing across the ceiling, but he wasn’t seeing any of it. All he could feel was the weight of her in his arms. The way she made space for him without asking anything in return, the way she never expected him to perform or impress or fix. Just stay. He hadn’t realized how rare that was until her. There was a kind of pressure in his chest that came with wanting something so badly it almost scared him. Because yes, he had been afraid to give himself over like that again, afraid that his heart would be ripped out once again, not because he didn't trust her, but because he almost expected it. But he wasn't pessimistic, he never had been, and he couldn't be now, not with her by his side. Not when even everything he'd done wrong felt right with her. His thumb brushed along her fingers, slow, warm, like the words were gliding right behind the motion.

 

"Sometimes it scares me how much I love you," he said so quietly he almost didn't hear it himself. But it was there, out in the open now, resting in the space between them, heavy, vulnerable, like a hot cut through the warm silence that had enveloped them until a moment ago. She stilled, her fingers tightening a little, her muscles tensing for a moment, and she exhaled deeply. And then she lifted her head slightly, eyes blinking open, unsure if she’d imagined it. Neil looked at her, completely calm. No panic, no backpedaling, even though he saw all the emotions flitting through her eyes that she was probably trying to hide. Her lips parted, eyes searching his face like she didn’t know what to say, what to believe.

 

“You love me?” she asked after a short pause, her voice not uncertain, but cautious. So he gave her a soft smile, teasing just a little, because he knew her, knew she’d try to overthink it, spin it, protect herself from what it meant.

 

“What, so you don’t believe me?” he asked as playfully as possible, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She didn’t answer right away, just stared at him, eyes wide and glassy, ​​like she couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard, even though she had. He watched her patiently, thumb still brushing across her hand, not pushing, not needing. "I thought I was being pretty obvious," he said with a quiet laugh, sarcastic, perhaps a little overwhelmed. He couldn't imagine that she hadn't seen it, hadn't felt it, when he carried it with him so naturally. His heart beating hard and slow, like it was echoing in his throat, he hadn't expected her to answer, not in this way. Not when she wasn't ready. Still, as the seconds stretched, something in his chest pulled tighter.

 

"No, that not it. I'm just ..." she began, shaking her head, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

 

"I know," he nodded. "You don't have to say anything." Claire looked at him, something breaking in her expression, walls lowering, just enough. She smiled gently, and he already knew what was going through her without her having to say it. Because even if fear showed in her eyes, perhaps a little panic, he could see what was hidden behind it. It showed in the way the corners of her mouth turned up slightly, her muscles relaxed, almost as if it made the whole thing more real.

 

“I want to,” she whispered. “I’m just scared of … how much this is.” Neil nodded and kissed her gently on the forehead. He had always waited for the right moment to tell her, but soon he realized there was no such thing. He knew those were words that had previously meant something different to her than they did to him, but maybe the meaning had changed somewhat for him too. Maybe it didn’t have to mean forever right away, not until the end of his days, maybe it didn’t have to come with all the expectations that usually came with it. For a long time, love had been a word wrapped in pressure, in permanence. It was supposed to come with a plan, a timeline, a set of expectations: rings, vows, and happily-ever-afters. And he always liked that about love. If committing to someone meant having the certainty that that someone would be there, no matter what, then it was a promise he would have gladly made. But he knew there was no such thing, that promises were far too often associated with disappointment. Maybe that didn't have to be the case, not with her. Maybe it wasn’t about what came next, or how long it lasted. Maybe it could just mean that. Her. That feeling he got when she looked at him, or touched him. That feeling of understanding. Of being together. And being in this strange, beautiful world they were building together, day by day, breath by breath. No guarantees, no script, just the two of them, choosing each other, over and over. Because somehow, that felt more like forever than anything he’d ever known.

 

"I know," he answered mischievously, trying to downplay the seriousness of the situation. He was glad it was out, that she hadn't run away in a panic and shut down. His fingers wandered to her waist, and he poked her gently in the side. It had the desired effect, and she giggled softly.

 

"Yeah, right" she finally said, rolling her eyes. Neil raised an amused eyebrow, and she shrugged. "It's just so easy for you to say." Neil tilted his head and hesitated for a moment before nodding. Because some part of him had been loving her even when he didn't know what to call it. Yes, maybe that's why it was so easy for him to say it. Because she deserved to know. Because not so long ago, the opportunity to let her know had slipped through his fingers. Maybe because it was the only thing he could say for sure.

 

"Why not? I know how I feel," he said finally. "I think we're past the point where we try to deny it to each other." She nodded cautiously, even though her expression darkened a little. "After an evening like this, where we were reminded of what happened ... I see no point in pretending I don't feel what I feel." Neil wanted to take the opportunity to tease her a little, not just because he wanted to loosen her up a bit, but because there was nothing he loved more than her attempt to suppress a smile that always ended up creeping out anyway. "You know, I'm a little disappointed by your reaction," he began as neutrally as possible. Their eyes met, her eyebrows furrowed with guilt, and Neil gritted his teeth to suppress a smile.

 

"I know, I just - " Neil shook his head, cutting her off mid-sentence.

 

"I just declared my love with what I would argue was exceptional vulnerability. There should've been at least a standing ovation," he added theatrically, and Claire seemed to understand immediately, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a grin.

 

"Oh, my bad. Should I start crying with joy? Or thank you?" Neil thought for a moment before shaking his head.

 

"Too late. The moment is over." Claire laughed and pressed a pillow to her face, into which she moaned in mock annoyance. Neil laughed and reached for the pillow. When he pulled it away, she smiled softly and warmly. "I love you," he repeated with a grin, but before she could react, he pressed the pillow back against her face, silencing the laughter that made the rest of her body shake. Her hands flitted to his wrist, and when she gently clasped it, he released her, grinning even wider than before. Claire clasped her hands on her stomach and exhaled loudly, a faint smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. She hadn't needed to return it, not when she looked at him the way she did every time. Her eyes flicked all over his face as she studied him before reflexively moistening her lips. Neil's mouth automatically twitched upward.

 

"Show me," she said so quietly that he almost didn't hear her. He frowned.

 

"What?" She shrugged, but her eyes were shining even in the darkness.

 

"That you love me." Neil's expression seemed to falter for a brief moment, judging by Claire's smirk, but he quickly regained control. His fingers found her cheek and stroked it gently, never breaking eye contact. Before she could ask him again, he leaned in and kissed her, so that every cell, every vein in her body could feel his words.

 

****

 

I love you.

She had thought they would soon end the evening, fall asleep together, as they had so many times before. But something was different about this evening, she had sensed it, even when she had seen him standing on stage, proud and confident, and also when she had seen him talking to Jessica. It had changed something in her, even if Claire couldn't have said what exactly.

She had felt the change when he had closed the door behind him and stood in front of her, a little confused, maybe worried, but still incredibly warm. And she had felt it when they had slept together, not because it was different, because they had done anything different, but because it had felt different. More familiar, in a good way, as if she no longer had to hide. And then he had said it. And he meant it. But she already knew it before he said it. She had seen it in the way he touched her, in the way he waited for her to breathe, to be ready. The way he had always been there for her, putting a smile on her face with ease. In the way he held her now, as if her silence didn't scare him. As if it didn't mean she loved him any less.

Her heart was still beating fast, no, it was racing, threatening to jump out of her chest. Her face felt a little hot, and there was this pressure behind her eyes, the kind that usually came with tears, but these weren't sad ones. Her muscles, which always seemed to carry tension even in rest, actually relaxed. She felt light, almost floaty. And honestly a little ridiculous. Because here she was, lying in someone’s arms, her face probably a mess from all the feelings she wasn’t even trying to hide anymore, and she felt good. Not just content, not just safe. Happy. So stupidly, overwhelmingly happy. Like some lovestruck teenager who had no business feeling this giddy. Her lips kept wanting to curl into a smile, even when she wasn't trying to. She felt a little shaky, like her body didn’t quite know what to do with the relief of it all; that he loved her, and she didn’t have to doubt it. It was almost a little too surreal, even if it wasn't even surprising. But hearing it said was like balm on the soul, like a liberation.

All she could feel was his breath on her neck, his fingers gently stroking her arm. She wasn't even sure when the heat started creeping back in. He was still inside her, body pressed heavily against hers, the steady thump of his heart against her chest like a metronome anchoring her to him. But his hands hadn’t stopped moving. They were soft now, tracing her muscles, brushing the swell of her hips, ghosting over the skin just under her breasts. And slowly the longing started to build again, the need to be even closer to him. She shifted beneath him, a soft roll of her hips, and he groaned into her neck. He was getting hard again; thick and twitching inside her, just enough to make her gasp. The sensation was too much and not enough, slick, warm and perfect. She was still sensitive from before, but the stretch of him filled her just right, made her breath catch.

 

“Too soon?” he murmured, his voice still low and caring.

 

“No,” she breathed. “Don’t stop.” He didn’t. He pulled back, just a little, then pressed in again, deeper this time, slow and controlled, like he was enjoying the way she clenched around him, the way her mouth parted in a silent moan. Her hands slid up his back, fingernails dragging lightly over his skin. Every nerve felt exposed, every inch of her body thrummed with need. She could feel the drag of him inside her, the way he filled her over and over again, taking his time with every thrust. The pressure coiled low in her belly, thight and hot. She arched into him, legs tightening around his waist, chasing the friction, the stretch, the warm build that had her toes curling. He kissed her again, deep, slow, like he knew exactly what he was doing to her. Like he wanted her to fall apart for him.

 

“You feel -” he whispered between kisses, voice breaking, “God, you feel so good.” She whimpered, couldn’t help it. He was thrusting deeper then, still slow, but more powerful. Every motion made her thighs tremble, made her body clamp down around him like it didn’t want to let him go. And then his hand slipped between them, fingers finding the pulsing spot that was already longing for him.

 

“Hmm,” Her breath hitched. “Neil -” He was watching her, eyes locked on her face, hips moving, fingers circling exactly where she needed him. Her body seized, pleasure crashing over her in a wave so deep she forgot how to breathe. She moaned, loud and free, legs locking around him, her whole body trembling as she came hard around him. He followed a heartbeat later, hips slamming into hers with a broken groan, finishing inside her again with a helpless shudder. Her name echoed somewhere between a moan and a whisper. Neither of them felt the need to move. She lay there, heart hammering, breath shallow, his weight a perfect comfort over her. He was still inside her, still twitching, chest pressed to hers, breath hot and uneven against her collarbone. She could feel the soft tremble in his muscles, like even round three had taken him to his limit. And she felt the same. Claire slid a hand up his back slowly, then let her nails drag lightly down his spine, just enough to make him groan into her neck again. “Mmh,” she whispered, lips brushing his ear. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” He huffed out a breath, more laugh than protest.

 

„You wanted me to show you,“ His voice was still wrecked, but his grin as smug as ever.

 

“I’m flattered,” she murmured, grinning as she kissed the corner of his mouth, “And thoroughly impressed.” He tried to lift his head, but failed and let it drop back onto her shoulder. She let out a soft laugh, fingers threading lazily through his hair. The air was thick with the scent of skin and sex, his weight heavy and comforting against her. She traced lazy circles over his shoulder with her fingertip, not really thinking. Just feeling; the rise and fall of his chest, the way their bodies still touched everywhere. How quiet the world had gone outside this room. “You’re really not going to move, are you?” she murmured, lips brushing the side of his neck. He made a noise somewhere between a hum and a groan.

 

“I can’t move.” She laughed, warm and soft.

 

“Not even to get me some water?” He flinched and hesitated before grumbling in dissatisfaction. Claire simply hugged him a little closer to signal that he didn't have to move. She stretched beneath him, satisfied and sore in the best way, then nudged him with her knee. “Fine. We'll both dehydrate, then. Together.” She grinned broadly as he finally shifted, just enough to lift his head, his hair a complete mess, cheeks flushed, lips a little swollen.

 

“Worth it,” he said, voice low, eyes locked on hers. Her smile faltered for just a second because the way he looked at her made her chest tighten. She broke eye contact first, tucking her face into the crook of his neck to hide the way she was blushing. They stayed like that for quite a while, sweaty, pressed tightly, and together. Neil was eventually the first to break away, even if only reluctantly. He suggested a shower, maybe just the two of them, just to save water, of course, but in the end they decided to go separately, agreeing that one of them, or maybe both of them, would pass out otherwise. When they reunited, fresh and sleepy, the world felt gentle, almost like a dream. Every muscle in her body was relaxed, her limbs heavy, ready to rest. Her thighs still tingled slightly, that lazy post-sex burn lingering in every part of her. She could feel the soreness settling in across her hips, her shoulders, the back of her neck, subtle reminders of how completely she'd let herself fall into him. The weight of his arm around her stomach, his body pressed against her back, his lips gently brushing the back of her neck every now and then, was slowly lulling her to sleep.

 

But her heart was still beating fast against her ribcage as she thought about how the evening had gone, how she felt knowing that he loved her. Perfect. That would be the most appropriate word. Maybe too perfect. Her heart beat even faster when she felt his silent grin against her neck. But her smile narrowed a little, her eyebrows furrowed a bit, the rapid racing of her heart now felt less warm than painful. Because he had told her. And she hadn't been able to. Not because she didn't feel it. She did, she loved him. In ways she never let herself imagine, in ways that made her chest feel tight, because it wasn't the kind of love she could say out loud, not yet. And that opened her eyes, showed her how little she was prepared to face up to what actually made her so happy. Saying it meant letting go of every wall she'd built to survive, it meant stepping into something terrifyingly real.

And what if she couldn't be what he deserved? What if she broke it? Her heart had never learned how to love without fear, it had only ever learned how to run, how to protect itself from too much hope. But now he’d said it, and she hadn’t said it back. Claire closed her eyes and focused on his lips, still soft and lazy against the skin of her neck. She tried not to wince from the feeling of guilt that constricted her throat. Neil hadn’t asked for anything. He hadn’t looked at her like he was waiting, he just held her, like her silence was enough. As if she was enough, enough for him, enough for his life, even if she didn't feel anywhere near that way herself. And Neil, Neil was so perfect it almost hurt, because he gave her space to feel it her way; no pressure, no disappointment. Just love, just him.

Tears threatened, silent and stupid, because she didn't even know what they were for. Relief? Grief for all the years she'd spent pretending this kind of love didn't exist? Shame that the words stuck somewhere between her heart and her lips? Maybe it was also the disillusionment of realising that he was so much further along than her, not in what he felt, but in who he was. Because he’d said it like it was a truth he’d carried for a long time, and she had carried it, too. She just hadn’t known what to call it. Or maybe she had, and that was what scared her the most. Claire touched his arm lightly, tracing circles with her thumb as if she could pour everything she couldn’t say into that gesture. She’d spent so long teaching herself how to stay two steps ahead of heartache, how to love people from a distance, or in silence, or only in the moments that couldn’t hurt her back. But Neil was warm, and gentle and real. Real in a way that made her chest feel too small for her heart. He hadn’t looked at her like she’d failed him for not saying it back. There had been no hint of hurt, no quiet withdrawal, just that stupid, smug grin she loved more than anything. She wanted to tell him, desperately. But the words didn’t come easy, they never had. And not when it mattered most. She thought of all the versions of herself that had learned to survive without needing anyone. The little girl who had begged for love and was met with silence. The teenager who decided never to beg again. The woman who was trying to love, the way she wanted to be loved. And then came Neil, who looked at her like none of those broken pieces made her unworthy. Neil deserved someone who could meet him where he stood, open-hearted, ready. But she wasn’t that person, not yet. Not the way she was supposed to be.

 

"Can I ask you something?" she asked quietly, feeling his warm breath against her neck as he exhaled, almost frustrated. His thumb gently stroked her stomach as he turned his head slightly to the side.

 

"Are you overthinking again?" Claire almost chuckled; of course, he knew exactly what was going through her mind. It frustrated Claire that she could switch between happiness and pain just as quickly as her mother had. She remembered how hard it had hit her when she'd felt it in her mom, and she was afraid that Neil might feel the same; the same pain, the same insecurity, the same question of whether it was because of him that she felt this way. So she simply shook her head with a slight smile.

 

"No, I was just wondering," He tilted his head enough to look at her face, but she kept her gaze forward as she tried to find the right words for her jumbled thoughts. "Do you really mean that?" Neil raised his eyebrow skeptically, but she didn't have to look at him to know there was also a hint of concern in his eyes.

 

"Do you really want me to show you again? Because then we’ll have to wait about two or three more minutes," he said more or less sarcastically, and Claire lightly elbowed his stomach and rolled her eyes.

 

"Oh, keep it in your pants." Now it was Neil who laughed, quiet and grumbling, but enough to make Claire chuckle. "I don't know, with everything that's been going on with Jessica and what you wanted out of life ..." He rested his chin on her shoulder, giving her a moment of silence, the chance to continue her thought, but she remained silent and sighed heavily. Maybe it all played a part in that - that Jessica had reappeared, that Neil had told her he loved her, that he had done it that very same day, that very same evening. Perhaps this struck the self-protective part of her as odd. Not necessarily because she couldn't believe him, but because she couldn't understand how, with someone like Jessica, he would still want someone like her.

 

"What are you saying? That I can't love you just because I've loved someone else before?" Claire shrugged, not really knowing how to respond. Of course, that didn't make sense, she knew that. Many of her thoughts didn't make any rational sense, but that didn't mean they bothered her any less. She felt his fingers on her chin, and before she could say anything, he gently turned her head toward him. When their eyes met, there was nothing but warmth and understanding in his eyes. He smiled slightly, supportively, before exhaling heavily through his nose.

"Look. Yes, I loved Jessica. I loved Audrey too, for a while. I fell in love before them, too, but that doesn't change how I feel about you." She smiled gently, and he returned it immediately. His eyes flickered to her lips for a split second, and before he could think any further, he leaned in and kissed her, soft and warm. That brief moment was almost enough to make all misunderstandings and worries vanish into smoke. But then he pulled away, his eyes locked with hers. "You don't realize it, but you're so easy to love," he said with so much believe in it, that Claire wondered why she couldn't just understand it herself. If someone like Neil could see that in her, there must be some truth to it. He kissed the corner of her mouth, his finger gently stroking her cheek. He looked at her, so completely warm, so completely Neil, just like he always did. And she wanted to tell him. That it had become a matter of course for her to love him, that a person like him deserved all these words. Her heart was ready, and had been for a while, apparently. It surged every time he looked at her like that. It softened at his warm words, his hands, his voice, the way he never asked her to be anything other than what she was. It whispered this is it in the silence between their conversations, when she was half-asleep against him and felt more at peace than she had in years.

But her brain was a mess. Screaming not safe, whispering don’t ruin this. Reminding her of every other time she thought love was enough and how that ended - with loss, or silence, or something colder, something more complicated. Her brain was practical, it catalogued risk. It protected her. It told her that if she said it out loud, things would change. That maybe he’d expect more, that maybe she’d expect more. And what if she couldn't live up to those expectations?

She opened her mouth, already tasting those words on her tongue. She'd said those three words so many times, like a mantra, but rarely truly meant them. Or she'd meant them, but hadn't quite known what they truly meant. Because if what she had with Neil was love, then what were all those twisted, confusing feelings she'd used to describe love? Her throat went dry, begging her to finally say something, or at least to keep quiet and mean it, but she couldn't. Because while her heart knew exactly what she wanted to say, her head had already ruined it. Her fingers tightened around his wrist, almost as if she were afraid that no matter which direction she went, he might disappear.

 

"I ..." she breathed softly, and he was still looking at her, not expecting, just there. "I feel the same about you." The last words almost disappeared into the darkness, and Claire almost lost her face, so embarrassed that she wasn't even able to tell him how she really felt. But Neil just gave her a crooked grin and blew a quick kiss on her nose.

 

"I know," he said, fake-smug, which elicited a small smile from Claire. „How could you not?“ He flopped back down on the bed, and Claire turned in his arms so she could look into his eyes. He was still smiling as he pulled her closer. "But you don't have to say it if you're not ready, I don’t want you to." Claire felt the weight on her shoulders and the pressure in her stomach ease and sighed softly. His fingers reached for a strand of hair that had fallen across her face and played with it, his brows slightly furrowed. She smiled cautiously.

 

"Okay," she whispered before snuggling into his neck, burying her face in it. His hand stroked gentle circles over her back, her heartbeat adjusting to his calming movement.

 

"I know you're scared," he continued, quietly and urgently. "And it's not my place to tell you you don't have to be. But you're safe with me." Claire's mouth twitched upward. Even if it was nothing more than empty talk, quiet promises that essentially meant nothing, it warmed her chest.

 

"I know," she answered, and meant it. She closed her eyes and exhaled heavily, feeling the exhaustion spread through her bones, along with all the feelings she hadn't expected. Her fingers found his neck and slowly stroked his hair, hearing his heartbeat vibrate beneath her ear.

 

"I think it's almost scarier not to love than to love," he said after a moment, seemingly more to himself than to her. Claire frowned, but kept her eyes closed.

 

"How come?" Neil shrugged and she felt his grin pressing against her head.

 

"People I've loved and who loved me will always be a part of me. That's nice, too, in a way." Claire chuckled slightly at that undertone in his voice. There was that wisdom in him again, the one she'd always admired so much and, if she was honest, had also found a little funny. "Even if I've been hurt, it makes me who I am today. It brought me here, to you. How can something be bad if it brought me here?" Even though he'd said it exaggeratedly, probably to lighten the mood or relieve some of the pressure, Claire felt he'd meant every word. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before sighing loudly. "Love is the easiest thing in the world, because it's just there. You have no control over that." The pressure in Claire's chest returned at his words. It was a little frightening how easy it was for him to talk about her like that, and even more frightening that he could feel that way about her. "Do you really think I‘d fall in love with this stubborn, confident, and beautiful woman who also happens to be my resident, if i'd had the choice?" he asked in a playful tone, bringing a small smile to her lips.

 

"I think I would have lost that bet," she murmured against his skin, feeling his tired chuckle as the movements of his hands became slow and his breathing even. Claire exhaled softly. She wondered how she had let it get this far, how she had fallen so deeply in love with him that running away wasn't even an option anymore, even though it kept surfacing in her subconscious. She wondered if she would ever be able to get to the point where she could tell him, without the bitter taste on her tongue and the pressure on her chest. Because yes, she loved him, without a doubt, and that wouldn't go away. No matter how much she wished it would at that moment.

 

---

 

Notes:

Well well well.
I know some people might not like it, or disagree with me on Claire's struggle with love.
I know it can be frustrating to see her make a good step in the right direction, just to take 2 back in the next moment.
But it isn't as bad as it seems, and Claire will grow before you even realize it. Poor baby had been through so much, it's not fair to brush
over her scars and pretend she would be perfect just because. But don't worry, she might have a long road of healing ahead, but she'll make much progress soon, and will learn to open up more.
I hope you still enjoy.

Chapter 17: I promise you will see that I will be your remedy

Notes:

Hello friends. :)

Last chapter might have been a bit sad/heavy, this one will start the same. Fair trigger warning: we'll get a glimpse in Claires past again. You know what that means.
But don't worry, we are already on our way back to some fluffy healing.

We also will get to know Dr. Lane a bit more today, so ... this is fun. Maybe we'll get some answers ... or even more questions.
Enjoy!

 

---

 

Claire sits at the kitchen table, legs crossed on the chair, watching her mother as she walks through the kitchen, humming quietly. She's happy there's a cake, even if it's the kind with too much frosting that always gives her a stomach ache - it's colorful, with lots of sprinkles. Claire smiles broadly, but her mother doesn't notice. She's too busy trying to strike the match. Her body seems unstable, wobbling back and forth. She smells bitter, strong, and a little like lavender. When she starts mumbling, something Claire doesn't understand, and then starts laughing out loud, Claire grimaces. She knows she's better off not talking to her mother when she's like this, so instead she watches her quietly, her smile a little smaller, but still full of anticipation. Her mother curses loudly, and then she finally manages to strike the match. She laughes out with joy and Claire giggles. Her mom turns to her, grinning broadly, her eyes shining.

"Make a wish, baby." Claire closes her eyes for a moment and thinks. She has many wishes and doesn't want to waste any of them if one actually comes true. She murmurs quietly to herself and takes a deep breath. Before she can decide on a wish, she hears the door click and opens her eyes. The tension in her body returns as she looks into her father's face. He hasn't been home for a while; her mother said he was away on a business trip, but had laughed at Claire when she believed it. Her father's face is serious, his brows furrowed, and he's breathing heavily. When his gaze lands on Claire, it's as if he's only now remembering that she's here. She raises her hand and waves, a little uncertainly and hesitantly, but he doesn't respond, instead looking at her mother. "Oh, the gentleman made it home just in time," she slurs, and Claire sees her dad getting angry. He lets the door slam loudly behind him and shakes his head.

"What's all the theatre about?" her father asks, and Claire's heart beats fast in her chest at the tone of his voice. He seems angry, and she wonders if she's done something wrong. Her mom starts to laugh, but Claire isn't in the mood to join in.

"Theatre? Easy for you to say. Who just shows up weeks later without a present for their child for their birthday?" Her mom looks over and smiles. Claire returns it uncertainly, but her gaze lands on her father again. She's unsure about him, but she has a bad feeling in her stomach.

"You're drunk," he replies simply, laughing bitterly.

"No, I'm not," her mother laughs too loudly. They start yelling at each other, and Claire clenches her hands into fists. She wants to say something, but doesn't know what. They probably wouldn't listen anyway. She holds out her finger, keeping an eye on her parents. She knows she'll be in trouble if she touches the cake, but Claire thinks her mother has already forgotten about it. Her fingers touch the frosting; her parents don't notice, when she's shoving as much as she can onto her finger before shoving it in her mouth. It's sweet, and she smiles. She wishes there was cake every day, but regrets it the next moment, unsure if she wasted the one wish she had. She flinches as her mom starts screaming and throws the matchbox in her father's direction. It doesn't land near him, but he still grumbles dissatisfied and disappears into the bedroom. Her mother follows him, saying things Claire doesn't understand, and she slowly slides off her chair, unsure whether she should follow. She knows she should hide if they're arguing, that it would take a long time for them to calm down. But she follows anyway, slowly, her legs heavy. She clasps her hands, feeling self-conscious, picking at the torn skin on her finger. Her heart is pounding, her stomach hurts, and she stops. The next moment, her father storms out of the room again, dragging a suitcase behind him, his gaze fixed stubbornly past Claire, toward the door. Her mom tugs on his arm, angrily, but tears are streaming down her cheek.

"Where do you think you're going? Stay here." Her father shakes his head; he no longer looks angry, but his expression frightens Claire. She doesn't know him like this.

"I'm so sick of this. I'm done, Breeze." He shakes his head and reaches for the key in the door, turning around slowly. "I can't do this anymore." Something in her mother's face changes, and she recoils.

"What?" He stares at her, coldly, final. Claire presses her lips together, she doesn't understand. Is he going on another business trip? When will he be back? "You don't have the right to disappear, you can‘t leave me alone with this!" Her hand points in Claire's direction, and Claire falls completely still, her heart beating fast, much too fast, it's loud in her ears, and for a second she thinks she's dying. She begins to understand when he turns to the door and opens it. Claire's chest tightens, she thinks she's suffocating. He’s leaving. He‘s really leaving. She shakes her head and runs after him.

"Daddy!" she calls, but he doesn't stop, doesn't turn around, steps out into the hallway. Claire grabs his arm, her finger tightly wrapped around it. It works; he stops. "Where are you going?" she asks quietly, but his gaze remains stubbornly fixed ahead. She feels the tears burning in her eyes, her grip tightens. "Can I come with you?" she tries again and hears her mother's loud laughter in the apartment. His eyes turn in her direction, and for a moment she thinks he's looking at her, or maybe he's going to change his mind. But he just grabs her fingers and plucks them off his arm, one by one. Claire looks up at him, and for a brief moment their eyes meet.

"I'm sorry, little one. There's no other way," he says, turns around, and leaves. Claire watches him for a moment before running back inside, to the window, and pressing her face against the glass. She waits, and eventually, she sees him from up there. She knocks on the window, but he doesn't hear her, or doesn't want to. He gets into his car and drives away. A loud crash makes her turn around. Her colorful cake lies squashed on the floor. Her mother stands besides it, but just shakes her head. Claire sighs heavily and turns back to the window. She hopes her father will come back someday, but he won't, and she'll never see him again.

 

After her father left, Claire learned that love was conditional, that people left when things got tough. As a teenager, she made many bad decisions, knowing they would hurt her mother, because she had hurt her just the same. She tried to numb the pain, just like her mother had, and often enough, she questioned whether she was really better than her mom. What if she was just like her? For as long as Claire could remember, she had been afraid that if she loved someone, or let herself be loved, she would hurt them just as she was hurt. How could she not? She had seen what happened when she let people get too close - the people she had tried to love had either left or were beyond repair.

And yet, she had always wondered what those words would sound like, sincere, unconditional, and without ulterior motive. Without expecting anything in return, words that simply meant what they should; that she was loved. Nothing else.

 

And now she lay next to Neil, his face peaceful, perhaps even happy. His arm warm around her waist, his breathing calm and even. Her hand still in his hair, her fingers hadn't stopped moving in gentle circles, even when he'd fallen asleep an hour or more ago. She couldn't help it; she just looked at him. She'd tried to fall asleep herself, but her head was racing, her heart was beating far too fast, and the tight feeling in her stomach hadn't subsided. It was strange, because she was happy, she really was. Whenever she thought back to how he'd said those three words, so completely warm and almost casual, the smile automatically formed on her lips. She felt a warmth in her chest that filled her completely, something she hadn't felt in ages, at least not when it came to love. So why couldn't it just stay that way? Why couldn't she just be happy, why couldn't she just tell him that she loved him too? Because that was a certainty that had invaded her weeks ago, and she'd been pretty sure she'd tell him soon anyway. But every time she'd tried, her throat had closed, and when he'd finally said it, she'd almost refused to believe it. Maybe fear had already played a role, because she didn't want it to mean what it always meant.

Claire was pretty sure her therapist would have a pretty strong opinion on the whole topic, and maybe it would be good to go through it with her. Maybe she could help her understand herself better. Understand why she hadn't been this happy in a long time, yet at the same time, this panic was spreading in her stomach, telling her to run away as fast as possible. She wished she'd ever talked to Dr. Malkin about her relationship, but all she'd known was that 'there was someone.' In the following sessions she had repeatedly pushed and wanted Claire to say something about it, but Claire had always diverted the subject. However, Dr. Malkin was no fool, and Claire suspected that she already knew that this someone was Neil the first and only time she had brought it up. After all, she had already mentioned that she had feelings for her boss, and barely two weeks later, 'there was someone'. She wondered why Dr. Malkin hadn't brought it up again herself, was grateful that she gave her time, but now she wished she had. Forcing her to speak openly, forced to talk about her confusing relationship with her boss. Maybe then she wouldn't be in this uncomfortable situation with him now.

 

She sighed softly, her hand sliding from his neck to his cheek. Her thumb stroked his skin gently, and she watched as his face twitched slightly under her touch. A part of her felt alienated from him, so distant, as if he were at a completely different point in life than she was. Maybe he was. They'd never really talked about what they hoped for from life at the moment, what their future together would look like. They hadn't even gotten that far, as everyday life itself had already thrown too many hurdles in their way. They'd spent the whole time coming to terms with the fact that they wanted each other, that they were willing to take the risk of a relationship, that they hadn't thought about what that relationship should even look like.

Being together. That was what they wanted. But what did that even look like? What would the future look like? Claire had always thought it was too soon to think about such things; after all, they hadn't been together very long. But that had changed that evening, because it had shown her how far apart they were. Neil had told her a lot about how he imagined his life and actually he didn't have many wishes, he just wanted a happy life and someone to share it with. It was no secret that he wanted children, someday, but for him it was about being happy with someone by his side who loved him unconditionally. And Claire did that, but not in the way he deserved. Claire's stomach sank when she thought about how easily he had spoken about love. Love is the easiest thing in the world, because it's just there. You have no control over that. But love wasn't easy, not for her. It frightened her how easy it was for him. For him it was the natural flow of life - finding someone, feelings that developed slowly over time and then ... happily ever after? For Claire, however, it was nothing but the source of her trauma and confusion. In theory, of course, she knew that the love she felt for him and that he gave her was a completely different love than the love she had received from her parents or from the people who had abandoned her. In her head, these things were easy to separate, but her body seemed unable to. Claire closed her eyes for a moment, felt the pressure in her throat, the way her heart clenched in her ribcage. She turned onto her other side, unable to bear to look at Neil's relaxed face any longer, not when everything inside her was tearing apart. She felt his warm hand on her stomach, pulling her close to him, as if even in his sleep he couldn't bear the distance. And while on other nights that very thing had given her a feeling of comfort and support, in this night it suffocated her. Her hand rested gently on his, her eyes squeezed shut, inhaling, exhaling. She hated how small she felt again, how she felt like she'd taken three steps back just when she'd started to feel like she was making progress. Leaving this broken version of herself behind and starting a new life. A tear slowly crept out of the corner of her eye and she let it roll down her cheek. This feeling, what she had with Neil, was everything she'd ever wanted in her life, and now that she had it, she didn't feel worthy of it.

 

****

 

The alarm went off way too early; Claire had slept for maybe an hour or two. The sun was only slowly rising, and she wished she could just turn over and go back to sleep. While she'd prepared herself for not getting much sleep when she'd booked the hotel room, she'd admittedly hoped her insomnia might have a more pleasant reason. As if by reflex, she reached up to her face and felt the dried tears on her cheek, which she quickly wiped away as best she could. Neil protested at her side about the alarm going off again, and Claire turned it off before deciding to wake him up another way.

They hadn't had much time, so they'd left the hotel room at different times to attract as little attention as possible. Claire had arrived by Uber and would have preferred Neil to drive her to work, as he'd offered, but since she didn't even have a change of clothes and hadn't been particularly inconspicuous anyway, she took an Uber again. It was a strange feeling to arrive at the hospital without the oppressive feeling that Maya was wasting away in one of the rooms, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Neil had acted maturely during the whole Maya incident, definitely more mature than she had been, and he'd been right; this couldn't go on forever. She decided to bring it up with Dr. Malkin; perhaps she had some tips on how she should behave in a situation like this. Claire was Claire, she'd probably never completely escape her own skin, and she didn't want to, and by all appearances, Neil didn't want that either. She would continue to advocate for her patients, and most likely, such cases would still affect her just as much, but she still had to learn not to let that become a weakness. And above all, she had to learn to separate personal and professional life when it came to their relationship. It was her responsibility, and so she made another appointment with Dr. Malkin that same morning. It was about time to face it, to tell her about her relationship with her boss. Of course, she was still scared, but she would still be scared weeks or months from now. Neil had taken the plunge and spoken openly about his feelings. She hadn't been able to do that; the least she could do was admit to herself that things were getting serious between them. And that that would still be the case even if she kept it a secret from the outside world. She knew she couldn't hide it forever, and probably didn't want to, and if talking to her therapist could stop Claire from ruining everything good that was happening to her, then it would be a small price to pay.

 

With a strong coffee in hand, she grabbed the nearest tablet and headed to the residents' lounge. She still had a little time before her shift started and wanted to make up for her lack of energy with some rest. She poured hot water over her terrine pasta and sighed as she fell back into her chair. She appreciated Neil telling her about Maya's transfer more than he probably realized. Even if, realistically, he had only brought it up to keep the peace between them, she was grateful. She stirred her ready meal, a little disgusted, a little grimacing. For the past few years, she had considered ready meals a staple, but since Neil had started cooking for her more and more, she could hardly stand the cheap stuff anymore. This was probably both a blessing and a curse, assuming she couldn't just ask him if he could make her something decent to eat every day. This thought made Claire smile, and she made a mental note never to mention it to him. Knowing him, he would somehow manage to sneak her a packed lunch every day, and as funny as the thought seemed to her, it was still a little far-fetched. She furrowed her eyebrows as she pulled up Maya's file on the tablet. She already knew what to expect, but when the words finally caught her eye, her stomach lurched.

 

"Caregiver failed to acknowledge or respond to patient's worsening condition. Emotional invalidation suspected. CPS notified. Caregiver neglect.“

 

There was a certain kind of relief that what Claire had been trying to make clear all along was now written down in black and white. She had been heard, Maya had been heard. It felt good, in a way, to know that she could now be helped, that there was now a word for it. That it hadn't been imaginary. And yet, it hurt that this was exactly what had now become reality for Maya. Claire knew the feeling.

Neglect, a word that she hadn’t applied to herself for a long time because she hadn’t understood it, because it hadn’t fit. Her mother hadn’t ignored her when she got sick; she’d cried, screamed, made it about herself, like always. Love had been loud and chaotic and exhausting in their house, not silent and absent like this, at least not after her Dad left. But now she had grown up and understood. Because not being protected? That she understood. Because being the adult in the room too early? That too. Because needing something her mother just didn’t have to give? More than anything. She could still hear her mother’s voice, dripping with sweetness and hurt all at once.

I’d die without you, Claire.

Why are you punishing me?

I’m trying, isn’t that enough?

No, it wasn’t. It had never been. And yet Claire had loved her mother, had hoped that she would one day get well again, that she would be able to understand her, that they could start over. Not because she would still need her mother, but because she didn’t want to just close this part of her past. Because she held on so tightly to the thought that her mother would have behaved differently if she could've. That she hadn’t had any other choice, since she was sick, after all. But her mother had died before she could have addressed all these things, not from daughter to mother, not from child to guardian. From adult to adult.

 

“Morning,” she heard suddenly and flinched involuntarily. She raised her eyes, and her muscles involuntarily relaxed as she looked into Neil's slightly smirking face, who strolled into the lounge as if he were completely free of a care.

 

"Morning," she murmured back with a slight grin, as if she hadn't been lying in his arms less than an hour ago and had only been able to free herself from his embrace under strong protest. But by now, he was wearing his understated, professional smile again, which didn't reveal anything but his professionalism. She sighed and closed the file on her tablet, instead watching him make coffee while eating her pasta. His shoulders were looser than the days before, his movements seemed more relaxed, and Claire had to smile at the thought that she was partly responsible for it. Her gaze wandered to the door, as if she expected someone to walk through it at any moment, when all she wanted was a moment alone with him. As if he could read minds, he slowly turned toward her, the coffee mug already in his hand.

 

"Long night?" he asked innocently as Claire shoved another forkful into her mouth, shrugging as if she wasn't sure what he was referring to.

 

"Something like that," Neil nodded, a suspicious glint already in his eyes, but said nothing. Instead, he reached for a second cup and placed it on the table in front of her. He gave her a slight wink, and Claire's heart leaped out of her chest. Instead of reacting, she just shook her head slightly and pulled the cup toward her. "Thanks," she said, the small smile at the corners of her mouth not long in coming. Neil looked over his shoulder, almost reflexively, toward the door, but they were still alone, so he pulled the chair across from her and sat down. He pulled the tablet Claire had been using toward him and typed something on it. However, from Claire's perspective, he didn't look particularly interested, so she assumed he was just looking for something to distract him in case someone asked questions. She chuckled and leaned back in her chair. Something inside her always thought it was cute when Neil did his best to keep things a secret between them. Since she obviously knew what he was trying to hide, it usually seemed more than a little conspicuous to her. He sipped from his mug and looked up, a small smirk reflected on his face and he raised an eyebrow. "What?" Claire asked after a moment, watching as he tilted his head, his expression still serene.

 

"Nothing," he leaned back in his chair, his arm casually resting on the table, but then he frowned. "Why do we eat like this?" Claire wrinkled her nose in surprise and looked at her noodles, her eyebrows furrowed. Did he have the same thought as her, that it had become strange to see her eating convenience food?

 

"Like what?" Neil twisted his face into an uncertain smile before nodding in her direction.

 

"Like you'd want to hide your food from anyone?" Claire huffed and shook her head, but then she realized how she'd involuntarily turned away from him, her muscles tensed, the noodles more under the table than on it. She grimaced in surprise, not even realizing she'd done it.

 

"Old habit. Used to have to fight my mom for leftovers," she said, a little amused, but not really. Neil's expression instantly softened a little, his smile warm. He nodded understandingly and looked away, just enough so that she no longer felt like she was being stared at. For a moment, there was silence between them, and Claire wondered how he had even noticed, and whether she was such an open book to everyone, or just to him.

 

"You ever stop doing that?" His voice wasn't accusatory, but attentive and cautious, as always when he asked her something personal. Claire was silent for a moment, but their eyes met and her chest automatically warmed, causing her to sigh softly.

 

"Fighting for things?" He shook his head, his lips pursed in a slight smile.

 

"No, hiding." Something about that lodged deep in Claire's chest, perhaps because she knew full well that he wasn't talking exclusively about those stupid instant noodles. His gaze remained warm, so she didn't take it accusatory, but her stomach still clenched as she thought about last night and how she'd shut down when he'd opened up to her. He hadn't seemed disappointed, but she couldn't imagine that he hadn't had any expectations about what would happen when he said it. Her heart hurt at the memory, but she just shrugged.

 

"Sometimes it's easier to hide than to admit you're still hungry." Neil hesitated, frowning, exhaling heavily through his nose.

 

“You don’t have to pretend with me.” Claire’s jaw tensed and she looked away before he had a chance to read her eyes.

 

“I don’t pretend. I compartmentalize.” That earned a short laugh from him, dry but not unkind. She already knew there was no point in trying to fool him. For whatever reason, he’d always been able to see through her better than most. She hadn’t even had to say much for him to understand.

 

“Same difference.” She snorted and shook her head almost imperceptibly, her fork tangled in her pasta. It was almost as if she were sitting across from Dr. Malkin, just as vulnerable. She exhaled heavily.

 

“Look, I’m fine. I’m just tired, I’m - ” Neil nodded before she continued.

 

“- still hungry.” He said it gently, not accusingly, just there. Like an offer she could accept or decline. Claire's hand clenched. She'd longed for someone to see her and understand her without judgment, and Neil was exactly that. It was frightening, but a part of her tingled, exhaled, almost relieved that he was there. For a brief moment, she looked up; he sipped from his cup as if it were casual, but his gaze was so warm that she knew it wasn't.

 

"I thought it would go away," she confessed, so quietly it was almost a whisper. Her heart sank in her stomach and she felt his eyes on her skin, burning and penetrating, and it made her want to disappear.

 

"What?" Claire sighed loudly and set her pasta on the table, pushing it away in frustration and crossing her arms.

 

"This feeling. Like something's missing. Like I'm always bracing for something that isn't even there." Neil hesitated, his gaze landing on the table in front of him for a brief moment before he looked back at her.

 

"It will go away," he said firmly and quietly, and Claire clicked her tongue. The rational part of her knew he was right, but the insecure part wanted to roll her eyes. "You've lost people. You've been through hell. That feeling doesn't just vanish." Claire raised an eyebrow as their eyes met again.

 

"But it will?" A small, warm smile twitched at the corners of his mouth before he gave a brief nod.

 

"It will. Someday." Claire nodded as well and sighed again. Sometimes healing was just annoying. Sometimes she just wanted to surrender to the pain again, feel sorry for herself, and curse the world and everyone in it. It was easier than facing the healing process.

 

"I know. But it's like ... sometimes I think I feel too much. Other times, nothing at all." Neil's gaze darkened for a brief moment before he could hide it again, and she wondered what was going through his mind. Wondered if he'd noticed the fear in her eyes, which had crept beneath the joy when he'd told her he loved her. Wondered if he knew what he meant to her. But as he opened his mouth to say something, or maybe nothing at all, the door opened and Alex strolled in, silencing him immediately.

 

"Morning," he murmured, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were trying to hide a hangover. Claire smiled at him, and Neil turned slightly in his chair to look at him.

 

"Morning." He turned back to Claire and grimaced slightly, presumably to indicate that they would continue the conversation later. She was only too happy for that, even if it was somehow liberating to talk to Neil like they used to, before everything had changed between them. Without responsibility or expectations, not to her partner, but simply to someone who understood. She sighed and lowered herself a little further into the chair, her gaze fixed on Alex, who was also helping himself to some coffee. Suddenly, she felt pressure on her foot, and her eyes automatically darted to Neil. He didn't reveal anything, however, and sipped his cup without letting anything on. The corners of her mouth twitched upward, because something triggered this feeling in her - his foot against hers, as if he were showing her that he was there for her, even if he couldn't show it openly. He looked up for a brief moment, his eyes sparkling, before he cleared his throat. "I heard you two are with Lane again today?" he asked almost casually, reaching for the tablet in front of him again. Alex was already turning around to reply, but Claire had already raised her eyebrows playfully.

 

"You heard, huh?" Neil slowly raised his gaze, his eyebrow also raised. Out of the corner of her eye, Claire saw Alex tilt his head as well, and for a moment she pressed her lips together, almost regretting having brought it up. But when she noticed the small laugh lines around Neil's eyes, she just smiled slightly. "Interesting." Neil's eyes flicked to Alex, who was stirring the milk in his coffee but observing the situation just as intently.

 

"What?" Neil asked, his voice neutral, but with a hint of amusement. Claire also glanced at Alex and shrugged. For a brief moment, she let it go, and silence fell between them. Alex sat down on one of the chairs and her gaze landed on Neil again, whose eyes hadn't left hers for a second.

 

"Nothing," she murmured, barely suppressing a smile. She loved it when he looked at her like that - a little reserved, but knowing she had a smug saying on her lips and was just waiting to tease back. Neil hid his grin behind the rim of his mug, but the pressure behind his foot grew a little stronger. "Nothing, I just didn't think you were the jealous type," she added, as casually as possible, averting her gaze before she could see his reaction. The tension in the room suddenly changed, and Claire hated herself for it, but her heart began to race and she loved every second of it. Neil seemed a little perplexed by her answer, taking a moment to respond, his eyes repeatedly flickering to Alex, who still hadn't looked away. Neil looked back in Claire's direction, who shrugged, only slightly amused.

 

"I'm not jealous," he replied, just as casually, and Claire chuckled when she realized he'd gotten the hint. She bit her lip slightly, but the words fell almost on their own.

 

"Of course you're not," she said, sipping her coffee to hide the grin that threatened to spread across her face. Neil didn't reply, and it was probably for the best, because when her gaze fell on Alex, his brow was furrowed, his eyes darting back and forth between them. "What?" Claire asked as innocently as possible, and he nodded in her direction.

 

"Did  I ... miss something?" Claire shrugged and innocently drank her coffee. Neil shook his head as he quickly stood up.

 

"I hope not, Park," His voice far too indifferent for the blood that Claire was sure was pumping through his veins just as fast as hers. "If you need me, I'm in my office," he added smugly and started walking. Once he was behind Park, he glanced over his shoulder and chuckled in Claire's direction before disappearing through his door. Claire shook her head almost imperceptibly and sighed. The air between her and Alex was tense, but she tried not to react. Maybe it had been reckless to talk to Neil like that in front of others, but something about it had felt liberating. Maybe it was the part of her that was slowly realizing how real things had become between her and him, how much it yearned to be made public. Maybe a small part of her was now ready to think about it. Just not at this moment, when Alex was looking at her skeptically.

 

"So," she began, discreetly changing the subject. "How was the charity event for you?" Alex studied her for a moment, as if he could see right through her facade and had already made his mind up on what she was trying to hide. He seemed to consider what he wanted to say before shrugging.

 

"I wasn't there very long." Claire nodded understandingly, not wanting to let on that she had no idea when he'd left, since she herself had left much earlier, and furrowed her eyebrows.

 

"I saw you talking to someone. Nurse Stacy? You seemed to be getting along well," Alex snorted, but the corners of his mouth turned up. Claire wondered what was going on in his head, the memory of what Neil had said now ringing loudly in the back of her mind. Had he actually been right, and something had happened between Alex and Morgan that she herself had been too blind to see?

 

"We're colleagues. We talk from time to time," he answered evasively, which made Claire raise an eyebrow.

 

"So?" Alex rolled his eyes, but couldn't suppress a slight chuckle.

 

"Why are you so interested in that?" he asked, a little more seriously, but his gaze remained warm. Claire hesitated. She could have brought up the Morgan thing now, of course; he might have been so surprised that she'd known about it that he'd have given her some details right away. Then again, she didn't really know anything. Admittedly, Neil's theory was pretty plausible, especially considering the strange things they'd said over the past few weeks. But she knew what it was like to be accused of something and didn't want to fall into the same trap. So she just shrugged.

 

"I just care about you. That's all," Alex laughed softly, but it wasn't sarcastic or cold, even though his head shake suggested it might be.

 

"How lovely." Before she could respond, the door opened and Lane strode confidently into the lounge.

 

"If these aren't my two favorite residents," he greeted them, and Claire smiled slightly, but felt Alex's body tense next to her. "You guys look like you could use a little adrenaline to get those tired bodies going again." Claire pressed her lips into a smile, but as was often the case with him, she didn't know what to say. He clasped his hands together, a grin stretched across his face. He looked almost childlike with his deep dimples and bright eyes. "Have either of you ever assisted with the removal of a brain AVM?" Alex nodded.

 

"Last year with Glassman," Lane's grin only grew wider, almost cheeky. Claire couldn't remember when she'd ever seen him in such a good mood, and something about the sight made her chuckle. It made him seem so much more approachable, the joy written all over his face. It made him more attractive when he showed his love for his job like that.

 

"Cool. But I bet this will be even cooler." Alex raised an eyebrow, but Claire couldn't help but notice the twinkle in his eyes.

 

"How?" Lane's grin became more subtle, but no less smug. He paused for dramatic effect before pressing the file into their hands.

 

"It's right by the thalamus." Claire and Alex looked up at the same moment, their eyes wide open, their bodies tense. Lane chuckled and shook his head. "Well, those are the faces I've been waiting for," he laughed. "I told you I'd wake up today," he added with a wink. Claire chuckled, the excitement he radiated immediately mirrored in her and Alex. She felt her pulse quicken; anticipation, excitement, tension. "Patient prepared, everything in the starting blocks. We're ready to go. Let's get started, I have something to do today." Claire and Alex exchanged another look and stood up in unison, not needing to be persuaded again. The next moment, the door to Neil's office opened and he stepped out, a slight, albeit reserved, smile on his lips.

 

"Richard," Lane turned to him and grinned broadly, his hands on his hips.

 

"Good morning, Kazanova," he greeted, and Neil raised an eyebrow, more surprised than confused, the corners of his mouth slightly raised. Apparently, he was just as surprised by Richard's euphoria as Claire had been. "I didn't see you yesterday. I was hoping I could introduce you to some of the sponsors." Neil's gaze involuntarily flickered in Claire's direction for the briefest of moments, and she felt warmth rise in her cheeks.

 

"Ah, you know. Duty called," he played it down, and Claire fought the smile that threatened to creep onto her lips. Lane nodded and wrinkled his nose.

 

"I've heard," Neil tilted his head, but before he could say anything, Lane leaned forward a little. "The rumor mill is churning," he said, and Claire's heart skipped a beat. She could see Neil's expression falter for a brief moment before he regained control.

 

"So?" he asked, almost managing to sound indifferent, but just almost. Lane nodded broadly, grinning brightly, and Claire felt like she was going to be sick. Who had known about them? Had anyone seen anything? What had they even seen?

 

"I heard you were seen with a beautiful blonde lady," he began again, his voice a little quieter, as if it were just for Neil, but loud enough for everyone else to hear. Claire didn't know if that made it worse or better - clearly, they weren't talking about her. "Your fiancée? I didn't know you were engaged. Congratulations." Neil grimaced in surprise, but his shoulders immediately relaxed. "Who is she? Do I know her?" Lane sounded genuinely excited, his body leaning toward Neil as if he couldn't wait to hear the latest gossip.

 

"Ex-fiancée," he said dryly, an uncomfortable smile on his face. Lane's eyebrows immediately rose, but he played it off with a small smile.

 

"Really?" Neil nodded curtly and shrugged.

 

"Seems your rumor mill isn't up to scratch either." Lane tilted his head before looking over his shoulder at Claire and Alex. There was something odd about his expression. Surprise was written all over his face and it was the first time he didn't try to hide it.

 

"Well, then it doesn’t matter. More for the rest of the women world," he said with a shrug, patting Neil's arm in a friendly manner before nodding to the others and leaving the room. Claire chuckled as Neil raised his eyebrow in surprise. She shrugged and followed Lane at a brisk pace.

 

****

Several hours had already passed, the surgery was going well so far, and Lane was completely in his element. He showed a side of himself that was foreign to Claire. Alex, too, looked puzzled over his mask a few times when Lane laughed completely boisterously, as if he wasn't digging into someone's brain with both hands. Claire was fascinated by this side of him and wondered if he had needed the time to get to this point to really settle in. At least he didn't seem as aloof as he had at the beginning, almost likeable.

 

"So, do any of you have plans for where you're going after your residency?" he asked, as casually as he was interested. Alex and Claire exchanged glances.

 

"I think I'll stay here if they let me," Claire began, careful to leave the suction where it was needed. "Like you said, this place is special. We're all very close here." She raised her eyes only briefly to catch Lane's. The small wrinkles around his eyes were more noticeable, making him seem friendlier. A brief silence before Alex cleared his throat.

 

"I'm still thinking about it. Maybe I'll stay here, maybe I'll move closer to my family. It's been a while since …" He was interrupted by Lane's soft laugh, and he raised a skeptical eyebrow. Lane shook his head.

 

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. But I'm not asking about your ten-year plan or anything. Do you have any plans for celebrating graduation?" Claire hesitated for a moment, not knowing where he was going with this.

 

"Like what?" Lane shrugged again, his gaze flicking to the monitor for a glance, as relaxed as it was controlled.

 

"I don't know. Everyone I know took a trip after graduation. You know, to let loose one last time." He raised his gaze and looked at the others expectantly, then, after a brief pause, rolled his eyes playfully. "I flew to Germany after my residency. I wanted to see the Oktoberfest with my wife. Well, now ex-wife, but you get my point." Alex laughed sarcastically.

 

"It's like, what, a week we have off? I'm not going to go to another country just to get drunk. I can do it just as well here." Lane laughed too, warm and inviting. For a moment, there was silence between them, except for the occasional instructions he gave them for the surgery.

 

"Suit yourself. I believe in taking freedom where you can get it. We spend far too much time at our jobs, there's no time for much else. I use every bit of time I have to travel. See some of the world." Claire tilted her head for a moment, remembering the conversations she had had with him two days ago when she had assisted him.

 

"So that's where the boat comes from?" Lane raised his eyes, amused, and hummed an affirmative tone. Alex frowned.

 

"You have a boat?" Claire noticed the small wrinkles around Lane's eyes, suggesting a smile beneath his mask. For a brief moment, however, he said nothing, his gaze simply fixed on the patient in front of him.

 

"A yacht, to be precise. Nothing special. Jeanneau Sun Odyssey 389." Claire suppressed a small chuckle. He was already adopting the same tone as the last time he'd mentioned it, warmer and more significant than on almost any other subject. Nothing special.

 

"You don't seem like the boat type," Park noted, and Claire did chuckle now that they'd all come to the same conclusion. Lane raised his gaze and studied Alex for a moment.

 

"Yacht," he corrected, and for a brief moment, there was silence between them, the air charged. But then Lane laughed, shaking his head, and looked away. "I always have been. I just never had the balls to buy one." Claire laughed an amused laugh and watched him silently for a moment. He had a different aura than usual, less concerned with impressing or wowing the person he was talking to, but more with showing a real side of himself. Claire was beginning to like him.

 

"So where ... did the balls come from now?" she asked a little hesitantly, not sure how he would take it. But he laughed, almost a little surprised by her question or the way she'd brought it up. As soon as he fell silent, he sighed.

 

"I started putting myself first," he said, but it didn't sound dismissive or smug, not even particularly confident, just a fact. "My wife didn't like that version of me, though," he added, a little sarcastically, a little bitterly. Alex raised his eyes and watched him, almost as if recognizing a part of himself in him.

 

"So she left?" Lane hesitated for a moment, his movements freezing. But after just a second, he recovered, his brows slightly furrowed.

 

"She said she doesn't recognize the man I've become." His voice was a little quieter than before, more focused, but Claire couldn't tell if it was because of his words or because he'd reached a complicated place in the brain. "The funny thing is, I liked him more." Claire looked up for a moment, surprised by the vulnerability in what he'd said. She had too little information to gauge what he meant; whether he was escaping a restrictive relationship or simply selfishly putting himself first, but she certainly had no right to form an opinion. All she knew was that Richard was showing a side of himself she appreciated. „Her name is Mary Leanne,“ he added with an warm underton. Alex raised his eyebrow and let a moment pass before humming questioningly.

 

"Your wife's?" Lane looked up and laughed softly before shaking his head.

 

"No, my yacht's." Alex and Claire exchanged a quick glance before Claire grimaced. She'd already found it odd that Lane was the kind of person who bought a boat, but to then name it seemed more than a little odd to her.

 

"Does this have ... something to do with your wife?" Alex asked, somewhat hesitantly but obviously interested. Lane shook his head.

 

"God, no." He paused für a second. “This job is a relationship killer,” he added with a slight grin, and Alex also laughed bitterly. He didn't elaborate on where the name came from, and if she were honest, Claire wasn't particularly interested either.

 

"Pff. Tell me about it." Claire pressed her lips together and sank her teeth into the flesh of her cheek. She knew better than anyone how difficult it was to maintain a relationship with her job - not only was she a surgeon, but her partner was too. And that made things even more complicated. She cleared her throat.

 

"And the boat?" Lane raised an eyebrow and their eyes met. "The yacht?" Lane chuckled and mumbled something unintelligible before clearing his throat.

 

"I bought it a week after she moved out. Figured if I was going to be alone, I might as well be in the water." A small smile automatically formed on Claire's lips, sincere and warm. She couldn't imagine what kind of person he'd been back then, but then, she didn't know who he was now either. Yet a small part of her was happy for him that he'd taken this step. "Back then, I thought I should just leave everything behind. The yacht was like an out for me. I wanted to sail south, find something simpler. A simpler life, a simpler me." He laughed softly. "But then I thought - screw simple. And now ... I have a yacht." The three of them laughed together; it was almost cordial and warm. It was really strange, it was as if the Richard who had walked through the operating room doors was different from the one he'd been flaunting all this time.

 

"So, is your advice that I buy a yacht now, before everything goes to hell?" Alex asked sarcastically and amusedly. He, too, seemed to be slowly warming up to Lane. Richard shrugged and hesitated for a moment as he was busy finding the source of a small hemorrhage spreading in the brain. It was almost frighteningly fast until he had fixed the problem - not a trace of stress in his body. He was poised, calm, professional.

 

"Hmm, I think I might not be the right guy for life advice." Claire frowned, surprised by the brief drop in his tone. As if sensing it, Lane raised his gaze and met hers. A smile reflected in his eyes. "Sometimes I still wonder if I couldn't just sail away." That hung heavy between them, the atmosphere a little more tense than before. Claire cleared her throat.

 

"I think we all like to have an escape route ready. In case everything goes south. With you, it's a yacht, there's nothing wrong with that." Lane watched her for a moment, warm and intense. A warm shiver ran down Claire's spine, and she looked away, feeling her cheeks flush.

 

"What about you?" he asked, his voice gentle and a little quieter. Alex also raised his eyes and looked at her expectantly. Claire gritted her teeth. Lately, the answer to the question had been simple - her refuge had been Neil, his apartment, his closeness, his trust. But since last night, that little thought had returned to her mind, intrusive and sharp, telling her she needed refuge from him.

 

"I'm running. Literally," Lane chuckled, holding her gaze for a moment before he turned away, probably sensing that she couldn't, or didn't, want to be completely open. Silence fell over them again, the steady beeping of the monitor the only sound between them.

 

"What about you, Park? So you're a family man?" he asked, without raising his eyes. Alex didn't answer right away; the question seemed to have surprised him, or at least he seemed to think about it for a moment.

 

"More of a son-person," he said somewhat hesitantly, and Lane nodded understandingly. Something changed in his face, as far as Claire could tell from behind his mask. He paused for a moment, and she suspected that something in the brain demanded his attention, even if she wasn't sure what it might have been. But after a brief moment, he sighed and started moving again.

 

"I get that" he answered curtly, his voice a little heavier than before. Claire and Alex exchanged a quick glance before returning their attention to Lane. Alex seemed to be considering whether to ask again, but Lane beat him to it. "I never wanted to come to San José either, it's far too far from where I come from." Claire said nothing, but her eyebrows furrowed slightly. There wasn't really much she knew about Richard Lane, and suddenly he painted a whole new picture of himself for her.

 

"So why did you come here?" she asked cautiously, and he snorted a short, humorless laugh before shaking his head.

 

"Opportunities, chances," he began, shrugging. "I was offered the chance to advance my research, and that wasn't available at home. So I had to choose. And I chose medicine. Again." There was a long silence between them while the other two tried to properly process what had been said. Alex was the first to speak up.

 

"Over what?" Lane slowly raised his eyes, eyebrow lifted.

 

"What?" His voice was a little cooler than before, but more confused than emphatic. Alex shrugged.

 

"You said you chose medicine. Over what?" Lane slowly looked away, nodding even more slowly. He seemed surprised by the question, perhaps even a little taken aback. Claire already suspected he was going to leave it unanswered, but then he cleared his throat.

 

"Not over something. It was just a difficult decision." He cleared his throat again, and Claire raised her eyebrow as she felt his body tense next to her, his shoulders rolling and his neck stretching. "Soon after I accepted the job, I found out my girlfriend is pregnant. I decided to take the chance anyway. Because I know I'll achieve great things with my research at some point." For a brief moment, there was dead silence between them. Claire was glad the mask hid most of her surprised expression. She hadn't known Lane had a partner, hadn't even been able to guess, given how he'd initially acted toward Morgan. Even less would she have expected that a child could be involved.

 

"Oh, um. Congratulations," she said, after recovering a little. "On the baby, I mean." Lane looked up briefly and smiled; his eyes were warm.

 

"Thank you," Alex's eyebrow was raised sharply, and he studied Richard as if he couldn't believe a word he'd just said.

 

"So ... you moved away from your girlfriend … your pregnant girlfriend?" he asked, his voice more accusatory than he'd probably intended. Lane didn't seem to notice, or at least he didn't pay attention to the tone as he nodded.

 

"We still got some time, try to figure this out somehow." Claire could only see Alex's eyes, but that was enough to detect the dismissiveness in them. Maybe he saw a little too much of himself in Lane, maybe he was judging his decisions, since they were the same ones he'd made and regretted up until that point. "She's in town right now. So again - let's get this done. I have plans today." With that, he cut off any possibility of asking him further questions, but Claire wouldn't have been able to if that hadn't been the case. Her mind raced as she tried to understand the person in front of her. She had known Lane to be reserved, at least when it came to showing his true side. And now he had, and it was as if she had little ability to categorize him. "Almost done. Suction, Browne," he murmured, a little colder now.

 

"Already on it." A tiny spurt of blood hissed from the AVM wall, but Lane clamped it off in a heartbeat.

 

"Bleeder's controlled," His voice was more controlled, and Claire had already turned her gaze back to the brain when the monitors began beeping. Her eyes quickly darted to the screen; one of the cardiac monitors spiked, then dipped, fast. Alex moved and stood directly in front of the screen.

 

"Heart rate's dropping. BP's tanking." Lane shook his head, staying focused on his smooth hand movements.

 

"That's from blood loss. Keep suctioning. We knew this could happen." Claire did as she was instructed, but her gaze kept darting to Alex, whose gaze was burning into the monitor. "Park!" Alex shook his head.

 

"No. This isn't neurogenic shock. Look at the EKG! ST elevation. Something's happening to the heart." Claire also looked up, her pulse pounding in her throat almost instantly as she realized he was right.

 

"We need cardio! Now!" Lane shook his head, but his brow was now furrowed, his movements a little more tense than before.

 

"We're in the middle of a craniotomy. You want to delay and lose him up here?" She didn't need to answer, because at that moment Alex was already asking a nurse to call cardio. Lane clicked his tongue, obviously dissatisfied with the situation, but his eyes now darted more frequently to the monitor as he seemed to realize that the values weren't stabilizing. The air in the OR was tense; Claire felt it on her skin and in her bones. Her gaze flickered between Lane and the screen as the minutes dragged on indefinitely. After a few moments that felt like hours, the door opened, and Neil let a nurse slip on his gloves, his brows furrowed.

 

"What do we have?" Alex took a step forward.

 

"Tamponade, we think. BP's crashing. Could be an aortic leak." Neil nodded slowly, his eyes already fixed on the monitor, as he positioned himself next to the patient and asked the nurse to hand him the instruments.

 

"You're not opening his chest while I'm elbow-deep in his brain," Lane spat, much louder than before, but Neil wouldn't budge.

 

"Then he dies with a perfectly intact hippocampus." Lane didn't reply, but he didn't stop Neil either as he took a long needle and inserted it. For a brief moment, the numbers stabilized again before the monitor beeped loudly again. "Sternotomy tray. Now! We're going in." The mood in the OR changed; the nurses scurried to their positions, Neil's hands moved quickly, and it was as if all the air had been knocked out of the room. "I need a few more hands," Neil cursed, and Claire's body automatically jerked in his direction, but she forced herself to keep her hands still, to concentrate on her part. Alex nodded.

 

"I'm here." Lane's hands had stopped moving, his cold gaze remaining fixed to the unplanned procedure, his jaw visibly tense. Claire held her breath as she watched them work. It felt like hours, but suddenly Neil paused, raised his hands, and Alex did the same. A second passed. Then another. And after another, the blood pressure regulated, the monitor became quiet and steady. At first, no one spoke, not trusting the calm that suddenly descended upon the operating room. But then Neil exhaled loudly and nodded in Alex's direction.

 

"Good work." Alex nodded and, following Neil's instructions, reached for the suture to close the wound. Claire's gaze flickered back to Lane, who was still studying Neil. Neil looked up, but didn't speak immediately.

 

"Thank you," Lane said, a little more quietly than usual, and Claire's eyebrows automatically furrowed, surprised by the simple word weighing so heavily on them. Neil also seemed a little surprised, but said nothing, just nodded slightly, and instead turned back to Alex. Lane also continued with his part of the surgery; the silence that followed was awkward, tense. Claire contemplated whether to say anything, but decided against it. Lane's gaze flickered to Neil again. "I remember when you assisted me with the removal of a brain AVM," he said suddenly, and Neil immediately looked up. "I wish you'd held the suction device as securely as Dr. Browne. Your hands were shaking so much," he murmured amusedly, and Neil gave a quiet, humorless laugh.

 

"Yes, because it was my first week as an Resident," he replied, unfazed, but with a slightly playful undertone. Lane hummed in agreement, the wrinkles around his eyes mirroring his smile.

 

"I mean it, tho. Those are neuro-hands Dr. Browne has there." Claire looked up, but Lane was fixated on his hands. Her chest warmed at his words, as she stretched a little taller. Her mask hid her proud grin. "You are incredible," he said, now addressing her. Their eyes met, and Claire's heart beat a little faster. She hadn't known she'd made such an impression on him, but something about it made her happy - as if she truly deserved it.

 

"Spent enough time around Dr. Browne, you get used to incredible." Neil's voice was warm and penetrating, making Lane look up. When Claire looked up, she expected their eyes to meet, but Neil was looking Lane in the face, as if adding more emphasis to the words. A blush rose in Claire's cheeks, her chest tightened, and she bit her lip to suppress a wide grin, even though no one would have seen it behind her mask.

 

"I don't doubt it for a second," Lane added before looking away. Claire felt almost uncomfortable, yet she couldn't lower the corners of her mouth even if she wanted to.

 

"Then again, she probably just had a better teacher than me," Neil interjected, his voice lighter than she'd ever heard around Lane before. She almost expected the mood to change, to become uncomfortable, but Lane just laughed and shrugged.

 

"Could be," Claire hesitated for a moment, thinking about what Lane had told her the night before and how confused she was by this new information. She had planned to confront Neil about it that very evening, but ... other things came up that were more important at the time. She knew it might not be the most elegant way to bring it up in front of Lane, but at least this way Neil no longer had the opportunity to evade the question or fob her off with meaningless answers. She cleared her throat to buy time to collect her thoughts.

 

"So, Dr. Melendez," she began, as casually as possible, feeling his gaze on her skin as she focused on her hands. "Dr. Lane told me you didn't actually start your training here at the hospital. How come?" She looked up for a brief moment to catch his eye, initially seeing nothing but confusion before his gaze darted to Lane.

 

"The circumstances had changed, so the Bonadventure was a better fit for me," he answered, a little too cleanly. His voice was completely Dr. Melendez again, far away from being Neil. She watched the small flicker in Lane's eyes as he looked over at him, but it didn't last long enough to interpret anything. Claire could already feel the tension in the room and probably should have let it drop, but she didn't know when she would have the opportunity to bring it up again, and whether he wouldn't become even more dismissive then.

 

"What does that mean?" she asked, keeping her tone as neutral as possible. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn toward her, probably wondering what that was all about, but he didn't let it show.

 

"It means the Bonadventure was a better fit for me," he repeated, almost a little too coldly. Claire felt the warm sting in her stomach, the protective tone in his voice. "The patient is stable. Alex, good stitches." He nodded briefly again and looked at Lane, although Claire was sure he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sure you can handle the rest without me." His voice was a little warmer, but Claire already knew the tone and knew it was fake. Lane waved a hand dismissively.

 

"I'll make sure we won't need you anymore." Neil nodded as he pulled the mask off his face to reveal a slight smile.

 

"Always a pleasure," he said, turning around. Before Claire could even think about saying anything, calling after him, and probably making things worse, he was gone. Lane gave her a quick glance, his eyebrow raised skeptically.

 

"Don't worry about it, Browne. He's always been the private type. The secretive act goes down well with the ladies." Claire forced a light laugh, but frowned. She didn't understand why Neil was making such a secret of it - he and Lane hadn't been at each other's throats, had even joked a little, nothing made it seem as if they weren't just old colleagues. Maybe there really wasn't any deeper reason for him starting at another hospital; that sort of thing happened sometimes. And if it had only been for such a short time, then it probably just didn't matter. She was probably making a mountain out of a molehill, like with everything else. It was surely nothing, she told herself as she finished the surgery with Lane. But a small, quiet part of her didn't believe herself.

 

---

 

Notes:

Neil, Neil, Neil.
Always running away. Don't worry - Claire is not having it much longer. Neil has to open his mouth very soon.
Next chapter will be fun, friends.
Happy weekend!

Chapter 18: Honey, I'm home!

Notes:

Hey friends!

So, alot is happening this week. We got another therapy session ahead and a few things that needed to happen.
Hope you have some fun!

 

---

 

You I know, I've noticed that too.

You Don't worry about it for now.

 

Lea What are you planning for midweek?

 

You I don't know yet

You I'll let you know.

 

Lea OK, good!

Lea Maybe karaoke again?

 

You Deal.

 

Lea Maybe we should take Glassi too? I think he's a bit slacking right now.

 

You Glassi, huh?

You Sounds good.

You Maybe we could-

 

"Hey," she suddenly heard next to her, but she was so trance-stricken that she didn't even lift her head from her phone.

 

"Hey," she mumbled, already finishing her question to Lea.

 

"Claire," she jumped and turned around, chuckling somewhat bewilderedly when she saw Neil's irritated but smiling face. She went up a step and shoved her phone into her pocket.

 

"Sorry, I didn't see you," Claire confessed, and Neil nodded with a slightly furrowed brow as he leaned against the railing.

 

"It's difficult with your eyes glued to your phone," Claire rolled her eyes and adjusted her bag on her shoulder, just to keep her hands busy.

 

"Ha Ha," Neil's mouth twitched upward as his eyes scanned her body and he tilted his head.

 

"Are you off work already? You came after me, didn't you?" Claire nodded, suppressing a slight chuckle at his irritated expression. She shrugged.

 

"I'm leaving a little early. Therapy." Neil frowned, but nodded and took another step toward her.

 

"Do you want to come over afterward? We could watch a movie or something like that." A smile finally crept onto her lips as she raised her eyebrows playfully.

 

"Something like that, huh?" Neil shrugged innocently, but the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his intentions. Claire placed her hands on her hips. "Haven't I seen your name on the board next to a redo CABG with mitral valve repair?" she added, the undertone in her voice teasing. Neil grimaced slightly.

 

"I was hoping you weren't looking too closely," Claire laughed softly and shook her head before starting to rummage in her bag for her car keys.

 

"That's, what - six, seven hours of surgery alone? You'll be lucky to make it home by midnight." Claire didn't have to look up to see his smirking face, but when she did, his eyebrows were slightly furrowed.

 

“I’d still rather end the day with you.” A soft breath escaped Claire’s nose, the movement in her bag stopped, and her gaze met his. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from reacting too much, too soon. But her body heard him before her brain caught up. She could hear it - yes, the tone in his voice was suggestive, flirty and smug, but underneath there was a vulnerability, something soft and genuine, it was the way he said he wanted her there. She had found that same comfort in him before and of course, after everything that had happened in the last few days, she knew that he would at least feel the same. Still, she felt a little caught off guard by the invitation, in the best possible way. She had already planned her day, and yes, the thought had also crossed her mind that she would have liked to spend the evening with him, but she had decided to make him and her feelings for him the main topic of today's session and wasn't sure whether she would need his proximity or shy away from it. She sighed softly.

 

"We'll see. I'll text to you when I get out." His features brightened a little, and as if by reflex, his body leaned toward her.

 

"You don't have to wait for me either. You can go ahead. You actually have a key, you know?" Claire raised her eyebrow with a smirk and opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, a soft click made her flinch. Claire automatically stepped down another step as her eyes glanced up to where the footsteps could be heard.

She bit her lip to suppress a chuckle as Neil began to drag out a patient history to update her. Nurse Stacy came briskly down the stairs and smiled briefly in Claire's direction, apparently unaware that Neil faltered a little as he seemed to run out of lies. Claire greeted her with a slight smile, but before she had even disappeared behind her, Claire turned her attention back to Neil, her eyebrow raised in amusement. He continued talking until Nurse Stacy was gone, and Claire wasn't even sure he could follow what he was saying. When the door closed and they were alone again, he sighed briefly and shrugged before his smug grin reappeared.

"What? You're the one making us a secret," he said almost casually, "Don't hate me just because I respect your wishes." Claire rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress the smallest grin. With a soft sigh, she reached into her bag and found her keys right away.

 

"Like I said, I'll text you later," she said, waving the keys at him. "I have to go now." In a smooth motion, she turned on her heel, but before she could leave, she felt his hand on her wrist. She slowly turned back, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

 

"What? You don't even want to say goodbye properly?" Claire gave him a long, unimpressed look, which didn't stop him from grinning.

 

"Neil," she warned, but didn't refuse when he pulled her a little closer. "What happened to respecting my wishes?" Her voice was less accusatory than she intended, and when she felt his warm hands on her waist, a hint of a smile crept onto her lips.

 

"Well, if your wishes include me not being able to kiss you," he murmured before pressing her completely against his body. Perhaps it was muscle memory, or maybe just her own desire, that made her wrap her arms around his neck. A gentle smile played on his lips. "- then you should definitely reconsider those wishes." Claire sighed softly, but before she could reply, he pressed her against the wall, extinguishing any remaining air between them. Her heart tripped, fast and ridiculous, and she hated how easily he could do that, or maybe she didn’t. She couldn't tell anymore. He wasn't even doing anything. He wasn't kissing her. He wasn't pushing, just holding her there like she belonged against him, like it was natural, easy, normal, even tho it wasn't. It was dangerous.

And yet it had now become the most normal thing in the world, somewhere between the giggles behind closed doors and the doubts about whether what they were doing was right, she belonged to him. She let herself feel the way his hand had settled low on her back, the warmth of his breath near her temple. The steadiness of his presence anchoring something in her she didn’t want to admit needed anchoring. That flutter again, wild and traitorous. She looked up at him, trying to narrow her eyes, but it barely held.

 

“You’re unbelievable.”

 

"Mm. You say that like it's a bad thing." He didn't let go right away, and she didn't ask him to.

 

"I really have to go," she tried again, her voice softer than she had intended. The corners of his mouth twitched upward, but it didn't reach his eyes.

 

"I know," he said, so quietly this time it was barely more than a whisper. Their eyes locked, as if he were trying to gain her consent, at least in a silent way, but she hadn't needed to speak for him to understand. Her eyes closed even before he leaned into her, and even though he couldn't feel it, her heart was now beating rapidly in her chest, as if it finally wanted to draw him closer. She felt his soft lips on hers and instantly exhaled softly, as if she hadn't known she needed this. His hand moved to her neck, his thumb gently stroking her jaw before he lifted her head up a little to deepen the kiss.

Like so many times before, Claire lost her mind and the ability to think clearly as his body pressed hard against hers, feeling each of his defined muscles beneath her fingertips, and the sounds of their increasingly passionate kiss echo through the stairwell. Her hands, traitorous and slow to act, curled tighter into the fabric of his shirt. And for a second, the hospital, the stairs, the very idea of boundaries - gone.

Her knees weak, her breathing desperate and demanding as his lips melted slowly against hers. A soft moan escaped her as his thumb gently brushed her pulse point. He pulled away and she reluctantly opened her eyes, heavy and protesting, but they immediately closed again when she felt his lips on her neck instead. She was painfully aware that what they kept allowing themselves to be tempted to do was anything but safe - it hadn't even been a minute since Nurse Stacy had strolled down the stairwell and her mind wanted to react, to push him away, to remind him where they were, to make the boundaries clear.

But every vein, every muscle in her seemed to have a different plan, because she tilted her neck instead to offer him more. Her pulse pounded wildly in her ears and body, the heat slowly building inside her making her lips press together.

 

"You really have to go now," he murmured against her skin before biting lightly, drawing a heavy breath from her. She hated that she could already feel his grin on her neck, and hated even more that she loved that feeling.

 

"I know," she answered, no louder than a whisper. She opened her eyes to regain some control over her body, but he beat her to it, pulling away from her, but only enough to meet her eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, and he looked up with more than a little pride.

 

"Perhaps this will make your decision easier," he said smugly, and she rolled her eyes, cursing her body for falling into his trap. Before she could respond, he leaned forward again and blew a quick kiss on her lips. "Text me tonight." As he turned around, the door behind them opened and Alex stepped into the stairwell.

 

"Mr. Blake is prepared," he said simply, and judging by his expression, he concluded nothing from the encounter, seemingly oblivious to Claire's attempt to suppress the urge to bring her hand to her still-tingling lips. Neil nodded, unfazed.

 

"Let's go," he agreed, and without another word, walked past Claire to follow him. But he didn't have to say anything. Claire felt the tension in his body, saw his confident movements as he disappeared out the door, and rolled her eyes. Why was everything so messed up between them? So confusing, so dangerous, and yet so warm? And what would change if they made this public? Would that give her comfort, or would it just ruin the magic between them?

 

****

 

Claire's foot was tapping nervously on the spot, her fingers rubbing lightly together, and she was pretty sure Dr. Malkin had already noticed. As always, she'd started with light topics designed to loosen Claire up a bit.

How was the charity event? How's working with you new boss, Dr. Lane, going? What have you been thinking about lately?

She couldn't have known that these were all questions she'd had no easy answers to. Claire had spent all night thinking about how to bring it up with her, and the doubts had made her reconsider whether she should even bother. But that was no longer up for debate - she'd resolved to take a few steps forward after feeling like she'd only been pushed back again. And since she'd realized by now that she'd gotten stuck and probably wouldn't be able to look at the whole thing completely unbiased on her own, asking for help was the only logical conclusion. And yet.

Dr. Malkin sat infront of her, warm, inviting, and ready. Too ready. Claire bit the inside of her cheek and studied her for a moment before sighing softly.

 

"You already know, don't you?" she asked cautiously, already expecting some kind of reaction from her, even if it had been just a raised eyebrow or a slight nod. But Dr. Malkin didn't let on; her expression didn't change. "At least you think you know," Claire continued, which did elicit a small chuckle. She remained silent for another moment, but when she looked into Claire's expectant face, she hummed softly.

 

"Whatever you want to tell me, you're welcome to say it. I'm listening." This time Claire sighed loudly. She still assumed Dr. Malkin already knew, even though a small part of her wasn't sure if she was mistaken. She had hoped she would preemptively confront her, sparing her from having to say it, but of course she didn't. Claire flicked the hair tie around her wrist to calm her thoughts.

 

"I want to talk to you about the person I'm seeing at the moment," she began, her voice uncertain and almost small in the quiet room. Dr. Malkin smiled gently and nodded. Claire noticed the pen twitch in her hand, as if she were preparing to write down everything she would say in the next few minutes.

 

"Okay, gladly. Is there anything in particular?" Claire's heart was beating fast, much too fast, her throat dry, making swallowing almost impossible. She laughed uncertainly to relieve the tension in her body.

 

"Uhm ..." She hesitated, hoping Dr. Malkin would take charge after all, but she didn't. Claire forced her legs to stop moving, her hands nervously rubbing her thighs. She felt almost foolish, exposed in a way, as if she knew she didn't deserve everything that was happening with Neil. And that was the problem.

"You remember when I talked about having feelings for my boss, Dr. Melendez?" She looked at her expectantly, but nothing betrayed Dr. Malkin's thoughts except the slight twitch in the corner of her mouth. Again, she said nothing, letting Claire sit with her words, even as they weighed heavily on her shoulders. "I ... after the earthquake, we decided to explore what was going on between us." She looked up and their eyes met. There was no surprise in her eyes, no judgment, and that was what knocked the air out of Claire's lungs. "And I wanted to finally talk about it because ... we don't talk about it, not at work or anywhere. Not even with each other, really." Claire exhaled loudly through her mouth, the air coming out shaky. Dr. Malkin tilted her head slightly, letting a little silence fall between them.

 

"You say you don't usually talk about it. How does it feel to have done it now?" A simple question. No worry, no judgment, no questioning. Yet Claire didn't know the answer. The grip of her fingers loosened as she sank deeper into the couch.

 

"To be honest, I don't know," she admitted, a little more quietly than before. She avoided Dr. Malkin's gaze and shook her head. "It's good not to have to hide it anymore, I guess." Dr. Malkin again, seemingly noticing that Claire was at a loss for words, leaning forward slightly, the corners of her mouth curling upward.

 

"This relationship with him, with …"

 

"Neil," Dr. Malkin nodded and smiled warmly, as only someone with great empathy would.

 

"Neil. Your relationship with him, how does it make you feel?" Claire's heart pounded unevenly against her ribcage as she let the question sink in and considered it. There were countless things Neil made her feel, almost every single one of them more positive than anything she'd experienced in the past few years. The relationship with him, however, was more difficult, more uncertain. Not only because of what they'd both been through in their lives and the scars it had left behind, but also because of the circumstances, which were far from ideal.

 

"He's the kindest thing that ever happened to me," she began, quietly but firmly, because she could say that with certainty. "He makes me happy, he always believes in me and makes me believe in myself. I think we're good for each other." Dr. Malkin's expression showed emotion, but contrary to expectations, she wasn't writing anything down. Her pen danced between her fingers, but her gaze remained fixed on Claire. Warm and caring, the gentle smile on her lips seemed open-hearted and genuine.

 

"You say it feels good," she began, her smile becoming a little more subtle, "but you make me feel like there's something more to it." Claire laughed a humorless laugh and shook her head. Dr. Malkin probably could have pieced the puzzle together with even fewer words.

 

"I feel like I can't give him all of me, even if I try. Even if he deserves it." Dr. Malkin furrowed her brows, but her gaze remained warm as she nodded.

 

"What makes you feel this way?" Claire tugged on her hair tie again, letting it flick against her wrist as her throat tightened. When she raised her eyes, she saw understanding in Dr. Malkin, so she just sighed softly.

 

"I love him. And I know that. And yet I can't say it back." She shrugged reflexively, as if trying to take the weight off her words. "He told me he loved me. And I just … froze. Even though I knew what I wanted to say ... I couldn't." A silence fell over them, not uncomfortable, but loud, as if her own words were trying to eat her up. She sighed loudly again, and Dr. Malkin took over.

 

"Do you know why you couldn't?" Claire shook her head - that had been the question. Looking at Dr. Malkin, though, her gaze intense and a little forceful, it occurred to her that maybe she already knew the answer, she just hadn't wanted to face it yet.

 

"Maybe because I feel like I'm destroying something. Because I'm incapable of promising forever when I can't even trust that there will be a tomorrow." Dr. Malkin raised an eyebrow, but gave her a moment in case she wanted to pursue that thought further. When she didn't, she nodded.

 

"It sounds to me like you feel like love is like a contract." Claire thought about it for a moment. It was difficult for her to reconcile those things - the feeling of freedom, comfort, and completeness, and the feeling of being smothered, all in one person. She almost felt bad for Neil, even though he couldn't possibly know about these feelings; she felt guilty, as if she were hurting him by even feeling this way.

 

"It used to feel like a trap," Claire began quietly, closing her eyes as a lump formed in her throat. "With my mom, it meant giving everything, until there was nothing left for me. With my dad, it meant being left behind. Even with some of my partners it was only used against me. Love was never ... safe." She opened her eyes again and caught Dr. Malkin's gaze. Her lips pressed together as if she were trying to stop herself from speaking, to keep the thoughts from coming. "It was loud, absent. Or conditional. But never safe." It lay heavy between them, the weight of her words on her chest as she realized the truth and the meaning behind it.

 

"And with Neil? Is it safe there?" Claire swallowed.

You are safe with me.

He had meant it, and she believed him, even if it had been naive. She would have bet her life that he had told her the truth, not because he had been so convincing, but because she knew. She knew he was safe. And maybe that was the problem.

 

"He makes it feel different. Like it could be different. But I don't know if I can be different," she confessed, trailing off on a soft breath. There hadn't been a second when she worried he would break her heart, even though he had hurt her in the beginning, avoiding her and not wanting to face what was between them. But she had always known that she would recover from that kind of pain, if it ever came to that. But she couldn't live with the thought of her dragging him into the abyss with her, not because she wanted to, but because she couldn't help it. "What if I can't really love him? What if I hurt him?" Dr. Malkin's features softened, and she put her writing materials aside to lean forward a little, her gaze warm and understanding.

 

"Claire. You have to understand that you are not your mother. You are not your father either. You are you." Claire pressed her lips together.

Neil had told her how easy it had been for him to love her, had implied that others loved her too, without her even having to try. That had never been the case with her mother - loving her had been the hardest thing Claire had ever done in her life. "And you're learning to love like someone who wants to do it right. That's already different. That's already you."

Claire pressed her lips together as they began to tremble. She could see it for herself, her own efforts, and how Neil made being herself look so easy. That sometimes she didn't even had to try to believe she deserved it.

 

"It scares me that he's not gone yet." Dr. Malkin smiled empathetically, as if every word Claire said made sense.

 

"Because it forces you to believe in love that isn't temporary. That it can be chosen, not earned." Claire smiled sincerely. She felt understood, less alone, and as if her feelings were worth it.

 

"Yeah, but I don't know how to handle this. I want to stay in control, be the one who gives more. Because if it falls apart, at least I saw it coming." Dr. Malkin leaned back, her gaze warm and open, as if she could see a progress that Claire herself couldn't yet see.

 

"And now you're with someone who doesn't want to take that control away from you, but wants to share it." Claire thought about how hard it had always been for Neil to lose control, how he got stressed whenever something didn't go according to plan. Thought about how he had pushed her away precisely because he hadn't had control over it, and yet ... he had taken that step toward her and, as hard as it may have been for him, had let his walls down, for her. And now it seemed to her as if those walls hadn't been there at all, not with her.

 

"Yeah, you're probably right," she agreed, and Dr. Malkin left her with that thought. She reached for her coffee cup and drank from it, without watching her, without pushing her, without forcing an answer Claire wasn't ready giving. And Claire exhaled, deeply, for the first time in a long time.

 

"Why don't you talk about your relationship?" she asked after a few quiet moments, and Claire raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You said you don't talk about it, with anyone. Why not?" Claire laughed incredulously and furrowed her eyebrows, her heart skipping, before she crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

 

"Well, he's my boss. A relationship with him isn't really something you proudly boast about." Dr. Malkin's mouth twitched upward, almost amused, but she just murmured in agreement.

 

"Well, there are ways around it." Claire rolled her eyes, but didn't reply right away, aware of where the conversation was headed. Her teeth sank into the flesh of her cheek, her foot started tapping again, even though she tried to suppress it.

 

"I'm afraid of being reduced to that. That people will only see me as that - the woman who has a crush on her boss." She sighed, but Dr. Malkin didn't react.

 

"Do you really believe that?" Claire clicked her tongue and shook her head almost imperceptibly.

 

"Yeah. I've worked way too hard for this, had to prove myself way too many times, to let that ruin it." Dr. Malkin still didn't respond, and something about it made Claire shift nervously on the couch, as if she were seeing things about her that she herself hadn't yet seen. "Sometimes I feel like a little girl playing grown-up," she tried again, averting her gaze. "Like I'm just pretending I can do both at once. Love him, work beside him. Like I can have all the good things without it coming back to haunt me." When she looked up again, Dr. Malkin was still staring intently at her, her head tilted slightly, her lips parted.

 

"Is that really why you want to keep it to yourself?" Claire raised her eyebrows even more skeptically.

 

"Yeah, I mean ... sure. This whole HR thing makes me nervous. Because I know what it means if we go through with it." Dr. Malkin nodded, tilting her head.

 

"And what would that be?" Claire sighed as Dr. Malkin's gaze bored into her skin. Yes, she herself had been thinking a lot lately about what going to HR would mean for her, had tried to think about the future. But judging by the way she looked, Dr. Malkin already knew that.

 

"That there's no going back after that." Dr. Malkin nodded, but remained silent for a while, never taking her eyes off Claire. It seemed as if she could see right through her walls, to the very core of her being. Claire felt naked, vulnerable. The silence, which dragged on and on, didn't necessarily make this feeling any better.

 

"Let me tell you what I think," she began, and Claire nodded hesitantly as Dr. Malkin leaned forward again to catch her gaze a little more directly. "You said your fear is that you'd be reduced to your relationship, that you'd be doubted." She didn't say it like a fact, more like a statement bordering on a question. Claire nodded again, knowing she was likely to disagree with her in the next moment. "I think there's more to it than that." Of course there was. Wasn’t there always more to it?

"You're afraid that the people you've worked with for years might suddenly see you in a different light? That they might think you haven't earned what you've built?" Claire pressed her lips together to avoid answering. The easy answer would have been yes, but she'd known Dr. Malkin long enough to see in her eyes that it wasn't that simple. "You used a certain word over and over again when you talked about these people. Do you know which one?" Claire's throat tightened and she shook her head.

 

"I don't know," she murmured, pressing her fingers together. Dr. Malkin smiled gently.

 

"Family," she added, turning her head empathetically. "You didn't talk about colleagues, not superiors. You called them your family." Claire raised her eyes, and when they met Dr. Malkin's, her heart warmed a little. She knew she had done that, even before she was reminded. Because it was true - these people had become to Claire what her mother or father could never have been to her. Even if it hadn't been the most normal family relationship, not connected by blood or genes, she felt included, welcome, and as if she belonged there.

 

"I did," Claire confirmed with a slight smile, which made Dr. Malkin nod.

 

"You did. And why do you think they would judge you for something beyond your control? Something you yourself say would make you happy?" Claire hesitated, feeling Dr. Malkin tearing down her walls bit by bit, without much effort. She didn't have to answer; Dr. Malkin wasn't finished yet. "Do you think they would forget how much talent and dedication you showed them every day?" Claire opened her mouth to say something, but immediately closed it as the words died on her tongue.

 

"And what do you think I'm afraid of then?" Dr. Malkin leaned back in her chair, the corners of her mouth curling upward. Claire almost expected her to force her to figure it out herself, as if she should already be able to look deep enough into her own soul to find a simple answer. But Dr. Malkin pressed her lips together, and after a brief hesitation, she began again.

 

“I think you’re making yourself vulnerable with this relationship. And that’s what scares you, not what others think. You don’t trust yourself. Maybe you’re afraid you’ll ruin it if it becomes real. You said it yourself, you don't trust in forever. Why make it public, when it won't last anyway?” Claire laughed a humorless laugh, which was nothing new. This topic came up time and time again. Dr. Malkin didn’t react to her dismissive tone, but tilted her head.

“Sometimes, when you’ve survived long stretches of emotional drought, love doesn’t feel like a gift. It feels like a disturbance, a crack in the structure. What if this isn’t threatening your career, but your defense system?” Claire looked at her motionless for a long moment as she let the words sink in. Part of her had always felt safe with Neil, but then she thought back to the morning after the charity event, when she wanted to open up to him because he could see through her so easily. In that moment, she would have given anything to talk to the Neil who had no expectations of her, who simply listened. Not the one she'd been with, but simply her friend. That had been one of the few small moments when their relationship had felt like a problem.

 

"He's not a disturbance," she said quietly, the guilt evident in her voice.

 

"I didn't say he was," Dr. Malkin corrected, "But I think you've built something that kept you standing through so much. Loss, grief, loneliness. And now ... here comes this person who makes you feel something soft, something safe. And it's terrifying because it doesn't match the structure. It doesn't demand pain, or sacrifice. It just is. Maybe you can't handle it." Claire pressed her lips together, thinking how her first instinct had always been to run, as far as possible without looking back, even if he had been the only direction she'd wanted to go.

 

"Maybe I can't," she admitted in a whisper, and Dr. Malkin nodded in affirmation, her gaze still warm.

 

"So maybe the risk isn't in being with him openly. Maybe the risk is believing someone could care about you this deeply ... and not walk away." Claire snorted a soft laugh and shook her head before burying her face in her hands and sighing loudly, overwhelmed by the truth in her words.

 

"And if I believe in it, and then destroy it anyway? If it becomes too much for him? Or not enough?" Dr. Malkin hesitated briefly until Claire looked up again and met her gaze.

 

"Then we talk about the hurt. But if you don't let yourself believe it at all ... you stay alone. Even when you're not."

 

****

 

Claire's mind raced as she headed back to her car. They had talked about how difficult it seemed to be for her to understand that she could be both loved and respected by the same person, and that one didn't necessarily exclude the other.

She couldn't deny it; it had been a difficult session for her, painful and confusing, having her eyes opened and seeing how all her problems were somehow connected. Perhaps she hadn't really realized how broken she had been before.

But the strange thing was that she no longer felt that way. She felt understood, not only by Dr. Malkin, but also by herself. Her thoughts were slowly making sense; she no longer felt so incredibly bad about not being ready to tell Neil how she felt. Of course, she knew it was a problem, before and still was, and that it wouldn't simply go away just because she had more understanding now.

Still, she felt lighter as she slumped into her car and sighed. Dr. Malkin was right, as she usually was. Claire had to start believing that this could work with Neil, that she was worthy of being loved. She knew no switch would flip immediately, knew she would have to take each step individually, and sometimes fall behind.

But just because it took her longer than Neil to take those steps, even if her steps were perhaps considerably smaller than his, didn't mean he wasn't ready to take them with her.

 

For a brief moment, she closed her eyes, the corners of her mouth almost curling into a smile. Neil was worth it, but so was she. And with that, she decided that she didn't want to push him away that evening. She opened her eyes and reached for her phone, already texting him that she would wait for him at his apartment. But then she stopped, her gaze falling on her car keys in the ignition. Her fingers stopped and she sighed, threw the phone onto the passenger seat and drove to her own apartment instead.

 

****

 

They had actually been faster than initially expected, so Neil had hoped to get home before midnight after all. Alex had been in a surprisingly good mood, and Neil was more interested in his love life than he'd let on. He had indeed mentioned Nurse Stacy more often than usual, but otherwise hadn't let on much information. He hadn't revealed his cards either when Neil had started discreetly asking him about the situation with Morgan. He had dodged the questions better than Neil could've claimed to have, but in the end, they had settled for friendly smalltalk, and Neil was just glad that the old Alex was gradually coming back.

 

Neil was a little disappointed when he gathered his things in the office and realized he hadn't received a message from Claire, but he didn't want to read too much into it. The therapy sessions could sometimes be tough for her, even though she usually didn't let it show. She probably needed some peace and quiet after all; perhaps the fundraiser had triggered memories of the earthquake, or upset her on another level. On the way home, he wondered if she talked to her therapist about him, too, especially after what had happened in the hotel. She had seemed happy when he had told her he loved her, even though a hint of uncertainty had been evident in her face.

It hadn't even bothered him particularly, let alone surprised him, that she hadn't said it back immediately. Neil had usually been the first to say those three words; sometimes they were reciprocated immediately, sometimes it had taken a week or two. Jessica had been the only one to say it before him, and not because he wasn't ready or because the timing wasn't right; it had just slipped out and probably surprised her as much as it had him.

In the end, it didn't matter when they said it. Neil had no problem with it; he'd said it when he was ready and didn't want to hear it until Claire was, too. His other partners had usually not been as far along with their feelings as he was - he tended to fall in love quickly, he'd always been that way.

But with Claire, it was different; he knew that, and he could feel it in every moment he spent with her. Deep down, he already knew that she loved him too, or at least was close to it. Of course, he would have been happy if she'd been able to say it back - happy, calm, and exuberant - but it wouldn't have been Claire if she had been.

How important was it whether she could say it or not? Would that change what they had, how meaningful it had been? He wanted her to be happy, and the last thing he'd seen before falling asleep had been her smiling face. So, everything seemed to be going in the right direction after all.

 

Neil sighed softly as he let the door close behind him and hung his jacket on the coat rack. While it hadn't gotten as late as he expected, he didn't even need to look in his fridge to know it was empty. That meant he either had to take the time to make dinner or go to bed hungry and hope he was tired enough to fall asleep right away.

Neither of those options appealed to him, so he just slowly made his way to his kitchen, obligingly opening the fridge.

Nothing, as expected. He reached for the orange juice and closed the door with a disgruntled grumble.

Before he could even reach for a glass, he noticed an object that wasn't there before. His eyebrow raised skeptically as he walked over to the kitchen island and reached for the envelope resting on the edge. Neil didn't remember leaving his mail there, and he never left a letter unopened. The letter was heavy when he picked it up, and Neil opened it tentatively, but the corners of his mouth immediately turned up as he reached inside and pulled out the small key, which had a keyring he'd recognize anywhere.

A strange-looking rubber axolotl that looked like it'd seen far too much with its comically wide eyes.

 

They were walking side by side toward the elevator. Claire had her bag slung over one shoulder, her keys hooked through one finger. The pink rubber axolotl bounced slightly as she walked, ridiculous, out of place. Neil noticed it but didn't say anything for a few steps.

 

"Interesting choice," he simply said with that dry, unreadable tone he did so well. She didn't look up, but the corners of her mouth twitched slightly upward.

 

"You mean the axolotl?" Neil chuckled almost imperceptibly, his eyebrows still raised skeptically.

 

"If that's what it's supposed to be." Claire shrugged, letting the creature dance in her fingers.

 

"I like how ugly it is," Neil frowned, leaning slightly toward her to get a closer look before grimacing.

 

"That thing looks like it melted." Claire giggled softly before shrugging.

 

"It was sitting on my dashboard one summer; I barely managed to save it. I think that's what gave it character. Besides, it was a gift, and I couldn't bring myself to throw it away." Neil watched her for a while, his gaze flickering between her and the pendant, which she was looking at far too lovingly for how ugly it was.

 

"Ever considered that maybe it didn't want to be saved?" Claire giggled quietly before dropping the pendant back into her bag and clasping her hands.

 

"Sure. But it didn't have many other options." Her voice was light, though there was an undertone to it that Neil couldn't interpret. He let it go and looked back ahead. Claire obviously had far too big of a heart.

 

Neil chuckled as he turned the little creature over in his fingers. It was even uglier than he remembered, but having it in his hands now warmed his heart. He looked inside the envelope; there was a small, folded piece of paper inside. His heart pounded hard against his chest when he saw the few words written on it.

 

Mi casa tu casa

 

He didn't know why, but something about it felt bigger than he could understand. He'd given his spare key to Claire a few weeks ago without really thinking about it. His only thought had been to have her with him as often as possible. She'd never used it, well, at least not until this evening, apparently, and Neil hadn't questioned it. But having her key now, her axolotl, felt more meaningful than a small gesture. Neil pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a photo of the little friend in his hand before sending it to Claire.

 

You You are giving me this?

 

It took a few moments for her to respond, but the slight smile remained on his face.

 

Claire Browne He told me he wanted a change of environment

Claire Browne Maybe you can look after him for a while

 

Nothing more. No explanation about the key, not why now, why on this day. Only the fact that her ugly friend now belonged to him.

Neil chuckled, his features softening slightly as he considered whether to use the key right away. It was already quite late, and he really shouldn't have gone to bed too late, given how stressful the next day would be for him. But then ... he'd invited Claire over anyway, hoping she'd spend the night with him. Besides, she seemed to still be awake, and maybe she was expecting him to come over if she'd gone to the extra effort of bringing the key.

 

You Want me to come over?

 

He waited a few minutes, almost expecting her not to reply, but then another text came.

 

Claire Browne Maybe you should check if I even gave you a key that fits

 

Neil chuckled, imagining the tone of her reply. Without further hesitation, he gathered his essentials and headed over to her.

 

****

 

Neil couldn't remember the last time he'd been this excited about visiting someone. It had been strange because, up until then, he hadn't given much thought to what it would be like to stay at Claires place, as she always came to him and seemed comfortable. He'd never been to her apartment either; he knew where she lived and had sometimes accompanied her to her front door, but it never went beyond that.

As he stepped up the darkened stairwell, his heart pounded loudly in his chest, and he felt a nervousness he hadn't felt in a long time - almost a little childlike, almost a little exaggerated, but it made him happy. That she made him feel this way without having to make a special effort, without even saying a word. The love for Jessica, and probably also the love for Audrey, had felt more grown-up, calmer. Just as warm, but being with Claire was invigorating, as if he were rediscovering a side of himself he'd long since lost somewhere beneath the stress of everyday life and growing up.

So, with a grin way too wide and a heart beating way too naively fast, he grabbed the ugly keychain and searched for Claire's door. He quickly found it and noticed the beam of light shining through underneath. For a brief moment, he considered knocking, simply out of politeness, but the weight of the key in his hand made that thought disappear as quickly as it had come. He didn't notice the tacky doormat with the word Welcome written on it until he looked at it a second time. Neil grinned and unlocked the door without further hesitation.

 

He wasn't sure what exactly he'd expected when he'd imagined her apartment, but as soon as he opened the door, he was greeted by a subtle scent of vanilla and some kind of flower, probably from a scented candle. It was smaller than he had thought, not too small, just cozy. Countless jackets hung in the coat rack right by the entrance, and they brushed against him as he came in. He took a step further in, automatically straightening the heel of his shoe on the mat before realizing the gesture was absurd here. This wasn’t the kind of place where things had to be perfect.

There was a faint creak from the old wooden floor under his shoes, a row of framed photographs lined the right wall, crooked, mismatched, like someone had put them up on a whim and never looked back.

All snapshots of things that seemed to have happened a long time ago - a black-grey dog with brown eyes, Claire with blue-dyed strands of hair and far too much eyeshadow, smiling with people Neil didn't know. He almost had to smile at the sight of Claire, the little rebel. Next to it was a picture of her with Kayla, when she still seemed to have been healthy.

Looking around, he adjusted his posture out of instinct, straightening, trying not to bump into anything, and then realized how absurdly formal he felt here, like a stranger visiting something soft and private, settled in. His shoulders almost brushed the walls.

 

"Hey, you made it," he suddenly heard Claire behind him and automatically raised his gaze. A dustpan in her hand, her smile a little uncertain. "Sorry about the mess," she added, shaking her head with a chuckle before disappearing through a doorway that Neil assumed led to the kitchen. He frowned when he saw her damp footprints on the floor and slipped out of his shoes. His socks stuck almost immediately to the damp floor. Without another word, he followed her, watching her put the dishes in the sink.

 

"Hey," he greeted back, noticing her tense posture. He let his gaze wander further, taking in the wet mop in the corner, a used teacup forgotten on the counter, and a few candles scattered all the way into the living room. His features softened as he realized how much effort she'd probably put into tidying her apartment in a hurry.

"Hey," he said again, trying to get her attention. She tossed the rag into the sink and turned slowly, her eyes shining, but her lips slightly pursed, as they always were when she didn't want to show how nervous she was. Neil took a step closer, his arms corssed in front of his chest, before obviously scanning the room. "So ... is this the part where you pretend you always live like this, or can I congratulate you on your emergency-cleaning skills?" Claire rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress the slight smile as she stepped out of the kitchen with a sigh.

 

"Don't judge me, you should have seen it when I left this morning," Neil hummed, amused, and was relieved to see her muscles relax as she turned back to him. "Good to see you made it." Her voice held a playful edge, but the vulnerability in it was subtle. Neil's smirk widened a little as he took a step toward her. He stopped just in front of her, so she looked up at him from under her eyelashes. A cheeky remark was already on his lips, but when he saw the uncertain smile on hers, he swallowed it.

Instead, he took the key out again and held it up to her face, his eyebrow raised challengingly.

 

"The key," He noticed with awe how her cheeks turned pink and she pressed her lips together slightly, her body leaning toward him as if by reflex.

"You do realize I‘m not giving it back to you, right?" he finished his thought, his voice tinged with sarcasm, but warm and sincere. During the drive to her apartment, he had considered whether he should address the key as such, what it meant, or at least thank her for it. He had dismissed that thought, however, because he knew full well that she wouldn't be able to handle it anyway. But he hadn't wanted to leave it uncommented either, because he wanted her to know how much it had meant to him. Apparently, he had achieved his goal, because her smile became a little more confident as she pushed herself away from the counter and tilted her head.

 

"Then you'll force me to change the locks, willy-nilly. What a shame," She rolled her eyes, half a smile tugging at her lips, but he saw the flicker of something else beneath it, trust, but maybe even a little insecurity. Hesitation dressed up as nonchalance. Neil chuckled and shook his head and put the key back in his pocket, his gaze never leaving Claire.

Something was different, here in her apartment, surrounded by everything that made her who she was as a person.

"So," said Claire, clapping her hands and pulling him out of his thoughts, "Have you eaten yet? I ordered Thai noodles," she announced as she headed towards the living room. Neil raised an eyebrow in slight amusement, but before he could say anything, she turned around. "Yes, I'm willing to share for a change, this time." Neil laughed, fascinated by how she seemed to be able to read his mind, and then followed her onto the small couch.

 

They ate almost in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable, and Neil took the opportunity to take in his surroundings and Claire. His gaze met hers every now and then when he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and each time she smiled slightly. Her body was leaning toward him, as if she were prepared to lose herself in conversation with him if he asked her to, one of her legs relaxed and tucked under the other.

She seemed different. While he had always been able to sense that she had felt perfectly comfortable in his apartment, this was something else. Here she seemed almost more like herself, as if in her own four walls she had more difficulty putting on a mask to conceal what she was really thinking. Her body seemed more relaxed, soft, as if she had no doubt that she belonged here. Her place was warm, a little disorganized, even if obviously tidy; everywhere he looked there was something to see. It seemed almost absurd to him how different their apartments were from each other, his place twice as big, but only half as lived-in, quieter in a way. And yet he didn't feel like a stranger here, not as if he'd never been there before.

Maybe because it reflected so much of her, maybe because she was visible in every corner, but he already felt like he belonged here too.

 

"I like this," he admitted, a little more quietly than he had intended, and Claire only briefly looked up from her noodles.

 

"Yeah? I think it's a bit spicy," she mumbled, using her hand to feather air into her mouth. Neil chuckled a little and watched her amusedly.

 

"But you ordered it, didn't you?" She rolled her eyes and reached for the glass of water that was on the table in front of her.

 

"Yeah, well. Since it's a firsts-night, I thought I'd try something different." Claire took a long sip from the glass and closed her eyes in relief. "We're living dangerously tonight," she said dryly with a heavy exhale. When their eyes met, hers lit up briefly, the corners of her mouth twitching upward, but she returned to her food instead of holding his gaze.

 

"Well, I guess I owe you thanks for being willing to take risks for me." He had meant it as a joke, maybe a little prodding, but it came across more like a fact than anything else. Claire raised her eyebrows in slight amusement as she looked up, her eyes mischievous and a cheeky smile on her face.

 

"Probably," she said simply, and without another word, she slid her leg over to him and rested it comfortably on his lap. She left it uncommented, even though she couldn't hide the smirk, so he did too, except for the fact that he placed his hand on her shin. A thousand words were on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them instead, deciding to savor the moment before it disappeared again.

Over the last few weeks, she'd repeatedly sought his company, whether intimately or just seeking comfort, but he'd been able to sense her thawing more and more, and that alone was probably worth more to him than three words he already felt without them being spoken.

 

"I wasn't actually talking about the food, though." Claire raised her eyebrow, obviously questioning, but her lips still curled into a slight smile.

 

"So?" Neil placed his noodle container on the table and leaned back again, this time placing both hands on her leg. His fingers rubbed lazy circles in the fabric of her pants.

 

"I mean your apartment." Claire looked around reflexively, her lips pursed skeptically, but she couldn't hide the twinkle in her eyes from Neil. "I like it when you feel comfortable," he added, and Claire rested her arm on the arm of the couch, her gaze fixed on him, warm and open. She hesitated for a few moments, simply studying him as she seemed to consider what to say, then simply shrugged.

 

"Good for you. Because I'm feeling really comfortable right now." Neil smiled slightly but said nothing more. Instead, he grumbled in dissatisfaction as she pulled her leg away from his lap to reach for the remote to turn on the TV. As usual, she flipped through the channels without really paying attention to what was on. "So, how worn out are you?" she asked neutrally, but the tone was anything but. Neil turned toward the screen and shrugged before resting an arm on the arm of the couch.

 

"Pretty much," he admitted when she stopped at a nature channel and turned to him. He extended his arm toward her, which immediately elicited a small smile from her. Without thinking any further, she grabbed a blanket that had been folded on the other side of the couch and threw it over their legs. Neil watched as she curled up contentedly against his side, as if there was nowhere she would rather be at that moment. Her hand remained on his stomach, and she sighed quietly, her gaze fixed on the television. Neil put his arm around her and pulled her even closer, as he always did, almost reflexively, and sighed softly into her hair. His gaze was also fixed on the screen, though he was barely aware of what was happening there.

He was focused on the movement of his fingers, warmly stroking her arm, and on Claire's steady breaths on his chest.

The question of why she had given him the key today was still burning on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. Maybe it was her way of telling him how she felt without actually having to say it, at least that's how it felt. She was showing herself more vulnerable than usual without really saying a word about it. He had noticed at the beginning that it had made her nervous, that she made excuses for the clutter that didn’t need explaining, apologized for things he hadn’t even noticed, that she really wanted him to feel comfortable and he could see even now how much effort she had put in.

The freshly mopped floor, the candles she had put out - although they looked as if she had used them several times before, so maybe that was just part of feeling good for her - the coasters on the table that looked completely unused, as if she had put them there just for him, he was pretty sure she had even cleaned the windows.

The thought that she had put so much pressure on herself before he came over made him feel a little bad, but that feeling disappeared immediately when he looked down at her - warm, comfortable and content. At the way her face had relaxed, at the peace that had taken over once she finally stopped trying. She had let him in, not just through the front door, but into her world. Her space, into the person she really was. It may have been a small gesture, but the meaning behind it wasn't. And something about it made Neil smile. Maybe from then on, he loved her even more than before.

 

"So, what's your plan for tomorrow?" she asked sleepily, looking up briefly. "I was assigned to you. Now suddenly Morgan and I are with Lane." Neil sighed softly, not wanting to ruin the cozy moment.

 

"I thought you were enjoying working with Lane so much these days," he replied sarcastically, and Claire rolled her eyes with a slight smile.

 

"Ha Ha." The corners of Neil's mouth twitched into a slight smile before he cleared his throat.

 

"I'm leaving a little earlier tomorrow. Jessica wanted to meet with me again before she left," he answered truthfully, watching every little reaction on Claire's face. She blinked a few times before turning her head away again, sinking even further into his chest. She let out a heavy breath, not the kind that indicated discomfort, more the opposite.

 

"Okay," she murmured, her voice devoid of emotion. Neil wanted to ask her how she felt, if it made her jealous or even hurt her that he wanted to meet Jessica, but her reaction didn't suggest she had a problem with it, and he didn't want to make it one if there wasn't one. Still, it felt strange to let it hang between them.

 

"Just catching up, that's all," He knew he didn't have to explain himself, but it didn't feel right not to.

She had been insecure about Jessica, even if it hadn't been jealousy outright, and even though he was sure he had been able to alleviate some of her insecurities, he wanted to be as open with her as possible. He knew what Jessica once meant to him, he also knew what she didn't mean now. But explaining that would make this into something bigger, something louder than it needed to be, and if Claire needed reassurance, he had a feeling she'd never ask for it out loud.

So instead, he let the silence stretch just long enough to feel it. Then he reached down, found her hand where it rested loosely against his stomach, and threaded his fingers through hers. She said nothing, but he felt the pressure of her thumb against his hand and exhaled softly.

He trusted that she would say if it bothered her; he had to be able to trust her that much. And the way she snuggled up to him, he felt confirmed.

 

"You know, that's actually good. I haven't seen Morgan since the fundraiser, and I wanted to explore your theory a little," she said after a few moments of silence, even more alert than before, perhaps even a little excited. Neil chuckled at the tone in her voice and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

 

"Good luck with that," he murmured, stroking his hand down her back. "Alex is not really open about it. He isn’t letting anything on." Claire looked up, surprised, perhaps amused. "Not that I really tried," he tried to defend himself, but the grin on Claire's face made him chuckle.

 

"Nurse Stacy is in the picture now, too. This could be interesting," she murmured, resting her chin on his chest. Neil's grin only widened, and he gently stroked her cheek.

 

“Keep me updated.” Claire made a surprised, yet slightly amused face and left it at that.

 

They spent quite a while there, on the couch, with the TV switched on, playing some kind of animal documentary, and thoughts that eventually faded into a haze of just feeling.

It was quiet between them, more than usual, but that was what made this moment so special -  no expectations, no arguments, no worries, no stress. Just the two of them in the comfort of Claire’s apartment.

 

At some point, they silently decided to get ready for bed and found themselves in her bedroom, pressed against each other, kissing, caressing. Her fingers slipped into his hair, his hand moved up to her ribcage, the edge of his thumb brushing the swell of her breast. They kissed like they’d done it a hundred times before and were still finding new ways to get lost in each other.

There were moments where the softness gave way to something else; when her leg shifted over his, when she pressed closer with intention, when his breath caught and hers did too. But just when it started to climb, it always settled again. A slow exhale, a shared smile, fingers that steadied instead of wandered.

He didn't know how long they stayed in that bubble, but he knew it could never have been enough. With lips that gently brushed necks, with fingers that caressed each other's bodies, with sounds that were somewhere between comfort and arousal and yet never went beyond that. Sometimes a hand found its way under the other's waistband, sometimes teasing, sometimes led by passion, but even that always ended in a playful laugh, followed by a slower, softer kiss.

 

Sometime in the middle of the night they fell asleep, not an inch between them, and even if Claire hadn't been able to give Neil what he had given her, she had given him so much more.

 

---

 

Notes:

Our little softies ... 🥹
I think Claire is warming up in her own way and obviously Neil doesn't need her to say it back just yet, but he would probably be happy about it, lol. Claire is making good steps in the right direction. Next week will be another roller coaster, in the best way.
Happy weekend!

Chapter 19: Sweet dreams are made of this

Notes:

Hi friends. What can I say? Some of you wished for this, I just obeyed. 😌
But yes. I overdid it a bit 😐

Anyway. For those not interested in that, don't worry, there is some important storyline too.
We do have some interesting topics that build up the next chapters.
There is nothing much to say to this one. I wash my hands of it. 🤫

 

 

---

 

The hospital has fallen silent, not a soul in sight. The lights are out, the only sound being his footsteps on the floor tearing apart. He looks down at himself, his limbs heavy, he can't remember why he's here or who he's supposed to meet, yet his body moves automatically. A cough comes from his right, but he doesn't have time to look; it's important that he gets where he's supposed to. Everyone is waiting for him.

The walk to the room seems terribly long, and yet he doesn't meet another person, as if he were the last to arrive. Now, finally, the room. His head is throbbing. There's blood on his hands. For a moment, he stops, blinded by the bright light coming through the door.

 

I want you to know that … he hears her voice, but she doesn't continue.

 

What is he supposed to know? Why doesn't she continue? He takes another step, but something feels wrong, his whole body refuses to go any further.

 

Me, too. I'll go first. His own voice? But it sounds broken, powerless. He tilts his head, and even when he refuses, his legs move as if by themselves.

 

Way too much antler. His steps quicken, as if his body wants to be with her. He walks through the door, closes his eyes.

 

I love you.

 

His eyes won't open anymore; he can't see her, even though he feels her on his skin. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He can't move anymore. Suddenly, his eyelids fly open, and he looks around. She's not here, but he hears her whimpering.

He panics, turns around abruptly, but doesn't find her. In front of him is an empty bed, a monitor beside it, bouncing erratically. His legs automatically carry him in that direction. He wants to look for her, wants her to stop crying, but he can't.

His gaze wanders down his body. His shirt is torn, his stomach a deep blue, a color that spreads to his chest.

He doesn‘t understand, wants to call out to her, wants to ask what happened, wants to say he's okay. But his body no longer obeys him. It gets dark, and suddenly he's lying on the bed, the monitor next to him getting quiter. The sound of her crying grows louder, it's as if he can feel her on his chest, but she's not there. His hands move as if they're trying to reach for her, even though he can't see her.

 

Please, don't go.

 

Neil's eyes shot open, his breath catching in his throat. The pounding of his pulse was loud in his ears as he scanned the room. It took him a few moments to realize where he was, what had happened.

Claire was still lying beside him, asleep, even with his arm wrapped too tightly around her waist. He loosened his grip and exhaled loudly as he let his head fall back against the pillow. His breathing slowly calmed, his heart began to slow again, and he closed his eyes to anchor himself.

Neil's fingertips gently stroked Claire's stomach, as if reminding him of what was real and what wasn't. It was the first time he'd had a nightmare while spending the night with her, and he could still feel his hands shaking, even as the memory of the dream was fading. His veins were still pulsing too strongly, his body still in panic mode, even though his brain was no longer fully able to piece together the images from the dream. With every waking second, he calmed down a little more, coming closer to reality and pushing away the memory of the soft whimpering against his chest.

He didn't want to wake her, so he stayed still and for a few moments he didn't move, focusing solely on his breathing. In through his nose, out through his mouth. And then again. Concentrating on her warm skin pressed against him as she slept, the way her hand rested on his arm, as if she were trying to stop him from leaving. This thought made him open his eyes and begin to see properly.

The room was still dark, it was probably still the middle of the night, the only light coming from the streetlights, sneaking through the gap in the curtains that Claire hadn't completely closed. The warm light illuminated her arm and her hair, which was shining golden. The corners of Neil's mouth turned up, the pain in his chest disappeared almost automatically, and he shifted a little closer to her without waking her.

Her room smelled of her - that clean, slightly floral something she wore that lingered on her pillows. It was pleasant and made him feel safe, even though it was his first time there. Her body twitched in her sleep, a soft hum leaving her lips as her body pressed even closer to his. Neil smiled as he thought of how much she had grown to seek his company, even in her sleep, and how she had been practically huddled on the other side of the bed on their first night together.

His hand gently brushed a strand of hair from her face that had fallen into her eyes, and he couldn't help but notice how still her body had become, how peaceful. Her features had softened, every muscle in her body relaxed. Neil sighed into her hair and pressed a feather-light kiss to her shoulder, then another. He didn't want to wake her, but he couldn't not kiss her either. Her body reacted almost automatically, another low humming sound so gentle that Neil couldn't help but smile. He slumped back against the pillow and closed his eyes. He should probably just try to go back to sleep.

 

****

 

She didn't know what time it was, didn't even know if she was really awake, but her body was heavy and warm. She didn't open her eyes, but felt Neils gentle movements against her skin and smiled. His fingers moved slowly along her body, not searching or wanting, just like that. His fingertips glided in idle shapes along her hip, then the dip of her waist, like he was grounding himself. She could feel the tension under his stillness, the way his breath wasn't quite relaxed yet. Something was keeping him up.

Claire debated whether to say something, but decided against it when she felt his lips on her neck, feather-light, as if he couldn't stop himself. The corners of her mouth twitched upward, but her eyes remained closed. A soft sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it, and for a brief moment Neil paused, as if afraid to wake her.

But then, as if on autopilot, his hand moved again, from her hand to her arm. He stroked it gently, and Claire felt the warm goosebumps spreading and the way the hairs on her arms stood up.

Her body relaxed, and she wished she could stay in this moment forever. In the limbo between sleep and waking, when every touch felt heavier, warmer. So she forced her eyes to stay closed, even though her body was now awake and felt every movement clearly.

His hand moved again, along the curve of her body, slowly and almost barely there, but every second was tingling on her skin. The way his fingers carefully slid under the fabric of her shirt, simply to discover more skin, his thumb slid gently from her side, down to her belly button, where he spread his hand and let his fingers glide over her lower body. Claire noticed the warm shiver that radiated throughout her body from his movements and pressed her lips together.

She felt vulnerable, yet safe, knowing that he wouldn't take advantage of her, that he would notice every twitch of her body. His warm breath hit the back of her neck, enveloping her in a bubble of her and him. The muscles in her stomach tensed under his touch, the pressure behind them warm and tingling. Claire exhaled quietly and deeply through her nose as his fingertips danced over her skin, from her stomach to her hips and down to her legs.

It burned beneath her muscles, her pulse hammered deeper and deeper within her body and before she could stop herself, she tilted her neck and he understood immediately. His lips found the soft, sensitive skin behind her ear and because he now seemed to sense that she was awake, his mouth pressed tighter, heavier. Her skin tingled in the wake of each kiss, like it had bloomed awake beneath his mouth. Her breath hitched again when he let his lips part, and she felt the faintest trace of his tongue against her pulse point.

 

Her eyes flickered open, just for a split second, as if her body wasn't sure whether to keep pretending, not noticing the fire he ignited within her. Her skin felt flushed, nerves on high alert even as her limbs stayed heavy with sleep. And when his lips found the sensitive shell of her ear, she couldn't help it, her breath escaped in a quiet, broken exhale. He paused, just for a second.

Then kissed her there, too. He said nothing, demanded nothing, his hands gently ran down her leg, his fingers brushing the inside of her thigh on their way and she felt the tingling all over. Her body responded of its own accord, arching backward, enough for her spine to brush against his chest, for her hips to press more fully into the warmth of him.

A low hum sounded somewhere between her shoulder blade and her neck, but his movements were still steady, still so gentle that she might have thought he was trying to kiss her back to sleep.

Her lips parted soundlessly, a soft exhale breaking free as she pressed her thighs together beneath the covers. Not consciously, just need, unspoken and quiet, building somewhere low in her belly.

His nose brushed her hairline, his mouth found her shoulder again. And this time, when he kissed her, her back arched subtly, neck exposed. A few words left his mouth that she didn't understand, perhaps it was no more than a soft sigh against her skin, but it was enough to send another shiver down her spine. Her tongue gently brushed over her lip, simply out of reflex, and her fingers tightened around his arm. Her breathing became labored as he gently sucked on her neck, setting every nerve on fire.

His hand slowly slid under the fabric of her shirt again, and his thumb stroked the underside of her breast as she could no longer suppress a soft moan. She felt his gentle touch on her nipple as he stroked it, slowly but carefully, and she swallowed hard, her throat dry. He circled it attentively until it hardened, and a warm tug low in her belly made her thighs tense and her hips shift instinctively back into him.

 

A wave of desire rolled through her body, hot and heavy, not just in her chest, but between her legs, where her arousal was already pulsing.

Her eyes slowly opened, her heart pounding rapidly against her ribcage, already caught up in what their bodies had begun with nothing but breath and touch. She turned slowly toward him, her limbs heavy with sleep and anticipation, and his hand automatically found its way back to her hip, pulling her closer to him. As she lay on her side, she smiled up at him and looked into his smirking face. Her hand found its way to his arm and she tilted her head as she studied him.

That look in his eyes, dark and unblinking, made her stomach tighten. It was the kind of look he always gave her when they were usually already lost way too deep in each other. The kind that told her he was already there, somewhere deeper, somewhere in the middle of it.

 

“What?” she whispered, smirking, “You look like you’re up to something.” He smiled too, probably because he’d already noticed the husky undertone in her voice.

 

“Maybe.” His voice was low, his hand smoothing down over her hip, slow and soft. “I was just touching you,” he said, almost apologetically, “Didn’t mean to wake you.” Claire’s features softened a little as her finger ran down his chest, over his abs, and finally to his waistband.

 

“You didn’t.” The cheeky grin on her face seemed to amuse Neil, even though his jaw tensed as she playfully tugged at the waistband to pull him closer.

 

He didn’t let her wait any longer, and his lips found their way to hers, pressing gently against them, a little sleepily, a little cautiously, but enough to elicit a soft moan from her. Claire leaned immediately into his touch, felt his warm breath on her face, his fingertips again beneath the fabric of her top, this time less considerate, more intent on feeling her skin.

Neil tugged on her lower lip, drawing a light sigh from her mouth. Warmth spread through her lower body, tingling and burning, a spark that grew even stronger as his lips found their way back to her neck, almost as if by reflex. His mouth parted against her pulse point as he began to suck again, and it spread throughout every vein and muscle.

Her breathing caught, her hand darted to his neck to hold on, perhaps to press him even closer to her throat, and he obeyed, his teeth gently but deliberately grazed her skin.

She felt too sensitive, every stroke of his fingertips suddenly heavier. Her nipples hardened against his chest, and she swore she could feel the heat building between her legs, so much so that she needed some sort of relief.

Her thigh shifted over his hip, drawing him closer, and when she moved like that, when her hips tilted, barely a grind, his breath caught too. She wasn't sure when her teasing smile had faded, when her body had stopped pretending it wasn't melting under him. He hadn't even said anything, yet, hadn't even really done anything. And yet.

 

“God,” she breathed, a quiet, almost embarrassed laugh escaping her. Neil just looked at her, eyes dark, his hand sliding along her inner thigh now, so close she had to bite her lip.

 

“What?” he murmured, and she could hear the smile in his voice, that deep hum of control he always carried when she started to fall apart. Could feel the steady heat blooming between her thighs, spreading outward, setting every nerve on fire. Her pulse fluttered under her skin. Claire shifted against him, subtly, just a tilt of her hips, a little arch into his touch.

 

“You’re doing that on purpose,” she whispered, her voice thinner than she meant it to be.

 

“Doing what?” He was smiling, she could hear it again. His hands continued to wander down her inner thigh, and he watched every reaction of her body, every movement in her face, when his finger brushed over her underwear for the briefest of moments, causing her to flinch slightly.

 

“You know what.” Her voice broke and ended in a soft sigh. He bit his lip to suppress a smirk before his hand landed on her with a little more purpose, and his breath caught in his throat when he felt how wet she already was. Her own hand didn’t stay still either, sliding under his waistband, but before she reached her destination, she felt his hand around her wrist and raised her eyes questioningly.

 

"Don't," he said simply, and pulled her hand out of his pants, kissing her chin up to her ear. She hummed a questioning sound, but before she could open her mouth to speak, she felt his grin against her skin. "Just relax," he murmured in a tone that sent heat through her body.

Her mouth opened as if by reflex, perhaps to protest, perhaps to say something clever, but nothing came out but a soft sigh. He captured it in a gentle kiss, which she returned without hesitation, hyperaware of every twitch of his fingers and every slight movement of his muscles. Neil kissed her slowly, his lips soft and warm against hers, and her hands found their way to his neck, pulling him even closer under shaky breaths.

His fingers slid under the waistband of her panties, slowly, carefully, as if he already sensed how sensitive she was. But even the slightest touch had been enough to make Claire's breath catch and her legs automatically spread. He wasn't touching her the way she needed, not yet, instead he just let his fingers glide gently over her sensitive skin, almost an incidental touch over her clit, as if it were just an accident, even though her whole body responded. She was already so wet that his fingers could glide softly over her, and she moaned quietly against his mouth as he applied just enough pressure to make her pulse.

Before her hips could chase the sensation, his hand was gone again, but his lips were already traveling along her collarbone. She shifted beneath him, grumbling in dissatisfaction, rubbing her thighs together to counteract the tension. His soft laugh echoed against her skin, and his hand gently stroked its way down her body.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," he breathed against her shoulder as he pushed her top up to expose her stomach, his thumb slowly stroking her breast. She swallowed a moan as his lips also moved down her body, finally making contact with her bare skin. "At least nowhere you don't want me to be," he added, his voice smug but smoky with his own arousal.

 

His lips softly brushed the sensitive skin above her belly button, the muscles in her stomach tensing, heating her lower body so much that her breath caught in her throat. His mouth stroked her tense muscles as light as a feather, his warm breath settled over her like a hot blanket.

With a deliberate movement and without further comment, he slowly pulled her underwear off her legs and tossed them carelessly to the other end of the bed, his tongue already gently stroking the spot where her waistband had been until a second ago. Her legs were already shaking as he gently pushed them apart, and she bit her lower lip as she watched him position himself between them.

A soft whimper escaped her lips as he kissed down her thighs, soft and careful, as if he had all the time in the world. Her body relaxed, already more than ready for the welcome attention, every nerve already pulsing with need, but when her gaze fell on him, watching him appreciate every part of her body as if what he did was all about her, she let her head fall back against the pillow with a sigh and closed her eyes.

It was frightening how much she had come to trust him, how much she wanted to trust him, and how she could let herself go, knowing that he had her. And he did.

 

She felt his breath against her center, tickly and warm, and her breath hitched with anticipation as he pressed his lips gently against her. Even the slightest touch electrified her, her legs jerking together and he gently pressed them apart again as his lips continued to kiss her, never where she needed them, but close enough to make her arousal rise. And then he finally gave her what she needed.

When she felt his warm tongue, her skin tingled from head to toe and as if by reflex she pressed against him. Starting at the very base of her folds, he flattened his tongue and dragged it up, slow, impossibly warm and soft, not stopping, not easing up, until he was pressing right up against her clit with the weight of his tongue.

He flattened it again, the full, hot length of it pressing against her clit and dragging upward in one long, wet stroke that almost made her black out. The pressure was perfect, not too soft, not too rough, just enough to make her hips buck, her thighs clamp tighter around his head.

 

"I ...," she began, but the thought escaped her before she could speak, so her hands landed in his hair, not exactly to guide him, just to feel, to be as close to him as possible. He groaned against her skin and she felt it everywhere.

The slick, heavy heat of his tongue gliding through her folds, the way he used the flat of it to apply pressure, then eased off just enough to tease her again. His lips sealed around her clit, and his tongue started to move in slow, focused circles. Small, warm spirals, right on that swollen, desperate spot, with just the right amount of pressure. He alternated; pressing the tip of his tongue firmly against her clit, swirling once, twice, then flattening again to drag broad and slow, like he knew exactly what would keep her right there.

"God, that feels good," she murmured, more to herself than to him, but felt his smirk as he gently kissed her thigh, his fingers also finding their way to her center.

 

"Good," he murmured, barely from between her legs, before his fingers spread her slightly, giving him more access, "I'm just getting started."

His words had probably been enough to make her eyes roll into the back of her head, but when she felt his tongue against her again, she couldn't suppress the desperate moan. He lost himself inside her, closing his lips around her, spoiling her with soft, slow, possessive kisses, his lips pressing against her again, nibbling only slightly in alternation with his warm breath and the heavy, teasing movements of his tongue.

Neil’s tongue slowed just enough to brush short, delicate flicks over her clit, light, featherlike touches that made her gasp and arch into him. Then, without warning, he pressed deeper, his flat tongue rubbing firmly in slow strokes, sending waves of pressure that pulsed through her core. His fingers slid higher, tracing lazy, tantalizing circles around her entrance, teasing just enough to make her knees tremble. The wet sounds of his tongue combined with the subtle, slick noises of his fingers created a messy symphony, each noise punctuating the growing heat between them.

 

"Don't stop," she begged him as wave after wave of heat shot down her spine, clenching her core, every muscle in her body tensing in the best way possible. He licked her like it was the only thing in the world that mattered, like her pleasure was something he needed to taste. And that thought alone made even more heat bubble between her legs and her moans became ragged, hands in his hair tightening.

The way he focused, how gentle, how precise he was, made her whole body tighten. He had to push her legs apart to stop her from squeezing them even tighter around his head. Her stomach fluttered, her breath trembling through parted lips; He kept licking slowly, tongue dragging across her clit in careful, even strokes, like he wanted to give her everything, but not all at once.

He sucked her clit again, longer this time, firmer. He groaned as he did it, tongue swirling while his grip on her hips tightened. Claire couldn't stay still, her hips kept twitching upward, searching for rhythm, for friction, but he just kept dragging her back to his. That maddening, perfect pace that never quite let her fall over the edge. Her body was trembling already, her skin felt flushed everywhere, her nipples tight, her stomach tensing with every deep flick of his tongue. She could hear it; his mouth working between her legs, the soft, obscene sounds of her arousal, the breath he let out every time he moaned into her.

 

"God, Claire," he murmured, out of breath, his voice deep and breathy.

His fingers dug into her hips, holding her steady, and when she looked down, when she dared to look at him, she nearly lost it.

His eyes were half-lidded, dark and hungry, and he was watching her. Watching the way her body reacted, the way she squirmed and moaned and whispered his name like she needed it to survive. And he didn’t look away when their eyes met, just went deeper, his tongue pressing, flattening, licking up every part of her arousal. He gave her the kind of attention that made her feel at control and lost at the same time.

He never stopped looking at her and she felt exposed, open, but it didn't scare her, it only aroused her more - the way he looked at her like her pleasure was the only thing that mattered. Her stomach clenched, her toes curled, her breath hitched.

 

"Neil," she gasped, voice breaking. "Please, I -" He hummed against her clit, dragging a long, slow lick that made her cry out, an open-mouthed pull that sent heat splintering up her spine. She could feel everything.

The way his tongue licked through her folds, teasing her clit with lazy circles, dragging every sound out of her, the wet slide of his lips, the way her legs began to twitch uncontrollably. He seemed to sense it himself, because the next moment he moved, his hands gently gliding under her legs, placing them on his shoulders, and holding them there. He didn't hesitate, licking her faster again, and the new position made it even worse, even better.

Her breath came fast now, chest rising in short, shallow pulls, nipples hard and aching as her body tried to make sense of the overwhelming heat pulsing through her.

His mouth softened, his pace stretching into something unhurried, enjoying. He flattened his tongue against her again, broad and wet, and dragged it up the length of her with a deep, lingering lick that made her entire body seize.

Every nerve in her body was lit up, buzzing, straining toward something he wasn’t giving her. Her breath hitched again, her hands fisting the sheets now, knuckles already hurting. Her core pulsed around nothing, clenching in rhythm with every slow flick of his tongue.

 

“Neil, oh God,“ He groaned against her, the sound low and rough, and the vibration of it shot straight through her.

Then another long, slow lick, one that left her gasping, head tossing against the pillow. She gasped, breath catching so hard her chest arched off the bed. He didn’t speak, didn’t tease, just slowly, so slowly slipped one finger inside her.

And her body welcomed it without thinking, pulled him in like it had been aching for that stretch, that fullness. She clenched around him instantly, hips rocking up without meaning to. Neil groaned softly against her clit, his mouth never lifting. And that vibration, that low, hungry sound right on her most sensitive spot, made her whole body shudder. He added a second finger, still slow, still gentle. He curled them just slightly, finding the perfect angle, the one that made her gasp again.

And through all of it, his tongue kept moving. Lazy circles, long, warm and wet strokes. Every flick dragging heat tighter and tighter in her belly. His fingers moved in perfect rhythm with his tongue. In and out, smooth and unhurried, the wet sounds of her arousal filling the room, warm and messy and completely intimate.

She moaned his name again, barely audible, more breath than sound. Her thighs trembled, her belly fluttered, her hands reached down again, tangling in his hair, guiding him again. Her clit pulsed beneath his warm tongue, as he licked her passionatly, soft and broad. Kissed her, sucked her clit right back into his mouth, teasing with the edge of his teeth, and groaned like she was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

 

"God, I’ve missed this," he moaned against her center, the sound alone and the feeling it aroused was almost enough to make her lose what little sanity there was left and the control of her body.

The heat in her belly wasn't just blooming anymore, it was pressing, spreading. A slow, molten buzz that moved outward from the pulsing center of her clit and melted into her thighs, her chest, her fingertips.

And Neil kept that maddening, perfect rhythm, hot, wet drags of his tongue across her clit, alternating with soft, devastating circles. His mouth stayed sealed to her like he belonged there, the slick heat of him coaxing every gasp, every twitch, every helpless moan she couldn't hold in. His fingers were still inside her, deep, filling her in that slow, gentle rhythm that matched his mouth so perfectly it didn't even feel real.

She could feel it spreading through her body, familiar, deep and strong. Every part of her was alive, nerves pulled tight like a string about to snap. Her skin was hypersensitive; even the air against her felt electric. The tension coiled tighter with each movement, every thrust of his fingers pushing her closer to the edge until she felt dizzy with the heat of it. Her thighs quivered, her fingers clutched his shoulders, his hair, anything she could anchor herself to. She felt the pleasure cresting, sharp and impossibly bright, her whole body tightening in anticipation.

 

And then all of a sudden it happened - Every nerve lit up, every sound spilled out of her without control, her body clenched so tight around his fingers she felt it in her chest. It was everywhere, rushing through her, pulsing between her legs, stealing her breath and scattering her thoughts. Her muscles spasmed around him, over and over, as the heat rolled through her in crashing waves.

His mouth stayed on her, tongue moving gently now, drawing out every last pulse, every aftershock. Letting her ride it until her body was twitching, shaking, too sensitive to keep going, and too lost to make him stop.

Her body had melted into the bed, her thighs limp and twitching on either side of his head, her chest rising in broken, gasping waves. She could no longer think clearly, only feel and breathe. His tongue was soft, almost tender, with slow, delicate strokes over her clit, like he was kissing her through the afterglow. The sensation made her weak, and she felt more than overwhelmed. Her hips jerked, trying to pull away, but he held her gently in place, one hand smoothing down her thigh, the other still inside her, not moving, just holding her.

 

“Neil,” she breathed, almost begging, although she wasn't sure if she wanted him to stop or to continue.

He just hummed again, mouth never leaving her, tongue making another slow, wet pass. He licked her again, barely-there pressure now, more of a caress than anything. Every muscle in her body was already trembling and she moaned, more from exhaustion than arousal and she could feel him smirk against her skin. He kissed her clit one last time, soft and warm.

Then he eased his fingers out of her, slow and careful, and pressed his mouth gently to the inside of her thigh. He slowly lifted her legs from his shoulders and pressed his lips against every bit of skin that was in his way. Her body still twitched with aftershocks, her breath uneven, but every kiss grounded her, pulled her back into her skin one inch at a time, and Neil moved with unbearable tenderness.

His hands ran slowly up her sides, caressing her as his mouth followed, soft, open kisses trailing from her thighs to her hips, across the tender skin of her belly. And then he kept going, over her ribs, her sternum, the space just between her breasts, not skipping a single inch, not rushing anything. Each kiss was slow and deep, his lips parted slightly, like he needed to feel her fully.

Claire's fingers found his hair again. Not pulling, just holding, weak and shaky, as he kissed up her collarbone. She opened her eyes just in time to see him reach her. He looked at her like she was the only thing in the world, so utterly content and in love. Something inside her shrank at the sight, but it wasn't fear; it was something warmer, perhaps happiness.

His face was flushed, mouth still damp from where he'd had her, eyes soft and warm and so full of her.

 

“Hi,” he whispered. Her chest tightened at the fullness of it and a smile crept to her lips.

 

“Hi.”

And then he kissed her, his mouth parting just enough for her to taste herself on his tongue.

It was deep, but not demanding. Messy, but full of care. Her hands slid around his neck. Her legs, still trembling, shifted to pull him closer, and he let her, letting his weight settle just enough to wrap her in it.

Their lips moved lazy and slow now, and he exhaled heavily before he pulled away and rolled gently off her. She didn't have a chance to protest; he was already comfortable and pulled her close, humming contentedly as she pressed her body against his.

“Well, that ... was something,” she mumbled as he wrapped his arm around her waist again. She felt his mouth curl into a smirk against her neck. „I hate how good you are at this,“ she whispered, more to herself than to him. His smile only grew wider.

 

“Hmm,” he hummed softly, pressing a kiss against her ear, „No, you don’t,“ She hummed a reluctant tone that ended in a sigh. "And now I can sleep well," Claire furrowed her brow and reflexively pressed her back against his chest.

 

"Sleep? So it was your plan to wake me up like this, just to go back to sleep?" For a moment, he didn't answer, but she could still feel the smug grin against her skin. Then he shrugged, his hand found hers, and their fingers twined.

 

"Yeah, why not?" Claire was already grinning, but before she could reply, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade. "You always get so clingy after you came." Claire twisted her face in surprise, and perhaps a little hesitantly, before turning it slightly toward him.

 

"What? That's not true." But before he could say anything, she realized that her grip on his arm had already tightened and even her legs were trying to make contact with his.

 

"I'm just observing," he murmured softly, his voice mostly neutral, but with the same cheeky edge he always got when he was pleased with himself. Claire shrugged slightly, turning her head enough to see his silhouette in the corner of her eye.

 

"It's not my fault. I just don't get woken up in the middle of the night to have an orgasm very often." Neil laughed softly, his breath tickling the back of her neck. His thumb brushed over her knuckles before he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

 

"Hm, then I dare you to go back to sleep. Let's see what happens." Claire rolled her eyes, but felt her cheeks heat up at his words.

 

"God, you really are insatiable." He was still smirking, the rise and fall of his chest against her back more uneven than before.

 

"Pot, meet lid." Claire snorted and shook her head.

 

"Me? I'm not doing anything," Neil grumbled, but let it go. At least, that's what Claire had thought, but the next moment his grip on her hand tightened.

 

"So I'm assuming I'm just imagining you grinding against me?" Claire raised her eyebrows, but pressed her lips together to suppress a smile.

 

"Hmm," she murmured thoughtfully, discreetly pushing her lower body back a little further to him. She could already feel him, already warm and hard against her booty, but it didn't seem as if he wanted to do anything about it yet. Claire chuckled mischievously. "Yeah, I think you're imagining things. I'm just trying to get comfortable," she said, her voice as innocent as possible, but even she could detect the challenging undertone.

She could feel the muscles in his arm tense, hear him let a soft breath escape his lips, trembling and unsteady.

 

"Yeah, you're making it pretty hard for me to go back to sleep right now," Claire chuckled, rolling her hips innocently.

 

"Mhm, yeah. I've noticed." Her hips moved again, and his breath caught, but he still didn't respond. She could already feel him pressing himself tightly against her, seconds away from breaking.

 

"If you keep adjusting like this, I'm not responsible for what happens next," he murmured through gritted teeth, and Claire bit her lip at the husky edge of his voice.

 

"Huh, what are you talking about?" Neil removed his hand from hers, and that small movement alone sent a shiver down Claire's spine.

 

"You're really committing to this whole innocent act, aren't you?" His hand remained on her hip, where it already felt far too hot, and Claire closed her eyes, letting air slowly escape from her nose to stifle the soft moan.

 

"What act?" Neil laughed quietly, but the sound was already filled with need. His fingers gently stroked her skin, from her hips to her waist, and the muscles in her stomach were already contracting again, especially when she felt his warm breath on her neck.

 

"You're many things, Claire. Innocent is not one of them." Claire swallowed a laugh, pressing her lips together to prevent any sound from escaping. His lips gently brushed along her neck, and she could already feel it everywhere again.

 

"You talk too much," she managed to say, but her voice broke on the last word, her legs pressed tightly together. "It makes it really hard to sleep." Neil pressed a parted kiss against her pulse point, almost casually, as if he didn't feel how her body was already reacting.

 

"Then stop moving like you want anything but sleep," he murmured hoarsely before nibbling on her earlobe. She didn't respond, not with her mouth.

Instead, she pressed harder against him, the movement of her hips now anything but subtle. She let out a soft moan to signal to him that he had the green light, and that was all he needed. His lips moved more demandingly against every bit of skin he could touch. His hand came to rest on her hip, to hold on, to hold her, and his body pressed so tightly against hers that it knocked the air out of her lungs.

His breathing became more rapid, and she, too, no longer suppressed the sighs and the occasional moan. She leaned back, her hand moving to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, his lips finding hers in a heartbeat. The heat quickly built between them again, hands gliding more greedily over each other, breathing beginning to hitch, shivers running down their spines. And at some point, when the tension became too much, she broke free from his lips, only to moan softly.

 

"Don't make me wait," she whispered, feeling every muscle tense beneath her fingertips. She could already feel every part of his body begging to become one with her, and she didn't need to tell him twice.

He entered her slowly, and a heat washed over her with every inch. The warm stretch, the feeling of fullness, made her breath catch, and her body reflexively pressed closer to him, not to push him, but to feel him completely, to take him in, deeper, slower. She pulsed around him, the warmth pooling in her belly radiating into her legs, her chest, everywhere. As his hips pressed against her body and he finally filled her completely, he held inside for a moment, giving her time to adjust, to feel him, the deep pulse of him inside her, her limbs trembling with anticipation.

Her grip on his neck tightened as a soft moan escaped her lips and he pressed a kiss to her cheek, almost as if seeking consent, the one her body had long since given him. He began to move, so slightly she almost didn't feel it, but their bodies lit up in a wave of sensation, hot and sharp and incredibly good. She closed her eyes, her lips parted, and all she did was feel. His mouth pressing gently against her neck, against her shoulder, against every bit of skin he could grasp. His fingers gliding gently over her body, as if he wanted her to feel him everywhere all at once. The way he always pulled back a little, only to then enter her again, each time almost deeper and slower than before.

She didn’t ask him to go faster because she had grown to like it, the way he moved inside her, slow and controlled, not as if he had to chase after something, but as if he was focused on the feeling he triggered in her with every little movement. And she felt it everywhere.

Her walls clenched around him instinctively, pulling him closer, and she felt it ripple all the way up her spine. A wave of warmth spread through her pelvis, liquid and pulsing, and she whimpered before she could stop herself. Her hips tilted up on their own, seeking more, greedy for every slow shift of his body. She didn’t even realize she was moving until he matched her, just a gentle rock, and her breath shattered. Her skin felt too tight, too hot, and then he shifted just slightly, and she felt her heart in her throat, in her fingertips, in the space between them where their bodies met.

 

"God, I," he murmured into her shoulder blade as her fingernails gently scratched along the back of his neck. His breathing was deep and heavy, and every muscle in his body was tense with desire.

 

"I know," she breathed back, pulling him to her lips to draw him into a slow, deep kiss, interrupted only by the occasional moans of both of them.

The stretch inside her sent a warm, gentle shiver down her spine, and she felt how close she already was. He felt it too, but he didn't speed up.

His hand found her leg and he gently lifted it over his. She let herself fall, feeling him even deeper inside her, and with each slow movement, he hit the spot again and again that made her muscles tremble and her breath catch. And suddenly, it wasn't just about chasing the feeling of release, but about sharing this moment with him, and that thought alone made heat pool in her abdomen and the muscles in her body tense.

She whispered something to him, a plea, his name, or just a breath, she couldn't quite tell, but in the next moment, all of that vanished and she lost control of herself. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a brief moment, her body stilled before every vein began to twitch, coursing a fire through her blood.

It wasn't as intense as the first time, but it went deeper, and she felt it in her toes and fingers as she clawed into everything she could reach. The sounds that came from her mouth were desperate, hoarse, and relieved. And they were probably what made Neil come too, because in the next moment, she felt all his muscles tense, his moans loud in her ear. She felt him warm inside her, and moaned too, simply from the feeling of it.

 

After that, they were silent, calm, the cheeky grin on his face softened and became loving. After they'd freshened up and Claire climbed back into bed with him, his eyes had already closed, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward even in the darkness.

 

"Move over, lid," she murmured softly as she slipped under the covers and wrapped her arms around him. She didn't have to look up to feel his grin against her head. He let it go, though, as his fingers traced her curves and his breathing became heavier. "I wish every night was like this," she admitted after a moment of silence, feeling his chest rise heavily as he exhaled. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and sighed.

 

"My Claire is becoming a softie." His voice was amused, but with so much warmth that it made Claire's stomach turn upside down. She kicked him gently against his shin as the corners of her mouth curled upward.

 

"Be quiet, no, I don‘t." She wasn't particularly convincing, but she also wondered who she was fooling. For some time now, she had felt herself gradually allowing the warmth between them to grow, and how she was enjoying it more and more. She sighed softly, contentedly, her fingers stroking the deer head on his chest.

 

"You act like this is a bad thing," Claire just grumbled, but didn't bother to hide her grin. "It's not," he added quietly, his voice filled with honesty.

Claire closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. Neil made it so easy to be soft, to be safe, without pressuring her. And even if she'd spent years pushing people away, being cold, protecting herself, this version of her felt more like herself than any of the other protective walls she was losing bit by bit with him.

 

"It's not," she whispered softly, pressing herself a little closer to him.

For a while, he didn't say anything; that was what Neil did best. He always knew when to push and when not to. But he didn't have to say anything either; she felt how gentle his touch became, how his fingers caressed her, as if he wanted to give her even more reassurance.

 

"Though your blue-haired emo self probably wouldn't see it that way," Claire paused, raising her head just enough to look at him. The wide grin was already evident on his face as she raised her eyebrows.

 

"What are you talking about?" Neil shrugged, smug as ever, before reaching for a strand of her hair and twirling it around his finger.

 

"I saw the picture in the hallway," Claire frowned, wondering where he was going with this, but when the corner of his mouth turned up a bit more, she grimaced.

 

"Oh," Claire couldn't remember when she'd put up the photos and usually walked past them when she came into her apartment without even noticing them. It was probably shortly after she'd moved in, when she'd been feeling lonely.

 

"Don't get me wrong - you looked incredibly good," Claire raised a skeptical eyebrow, but couldn't suppress an amused grin.

 

"Oh really," Neil grumbled in agreement as he tucked the strand back behind her ear.

 

"A bit much eyeshadow for my taste, but that blue," Claire snorted and rolled her eyes, "Worth considering bringing back." Neil chuckled smugly, and she wasn't sure how much of it he meant, so she shrugged and turned her head back to rest on his chest.

 

"Hmm, I'll think about it," Neil hummed contentedly.

 

"Please," Claire shook her head almost imperceptibly, but smiled.

There had only been a very brief period in her life when she'd dared to dye her hair, and she had to admit it - it had actually looked good. However, she'd long since outgrown that phase and was already grimacing as she imagined the comments she'd had to listen to from Morgan if she actually considered dyeing her hair again.

 

There was silence between them, so long that Claire suspected Neil had already fallen asleep, even though his hands were still absentmindedly moving along her body. Her body was exhausted, tired, drained, and content. Her limbs felt heavy as her mind replayed the past few days. Her finger drummed gently against his skin as she considered whether to address her thoughts or postpone them until tomorrow.

 

"Still awake?" she whispered quietly, in case he had actually already fallen asleep. His heavy breathing made her briefly regret her question.

 

"Hmm," he grumbled, "Depends." Claire chuckled slightly, but let the checky tone in his voice go uncommented. Instead, she swallowed hard and decided it was now or never.

 

"I wanted to ask you something."

 

"You just did."

 

"Neil."

 

"Claire."

Claire groaned in annoyance and rolled off him so she could look at him. His eyes were closed, but the corners of his mouth were already turned up in a challenge. She waited another moment until he turned to her and caught her gaze.

 

"I have a feeling there's something you're not telling me," she began, and Neil's expression automatically became a little more serious as he rolled onto his side and studied her. She expected a cheeky remark, a teasing comment, or a smug smirk, but instead he furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes reflecting concern.

 

"What do you mean?" Claire held his gaze, but the words suddenly felt heavy, dangerous on her tongue. As if they had the power to destroy what had defined this evening. But she swallowed that feeling, along with all the other reasons she'd been looking for to avoid that subject.

 

"You're different. Whenever it comes to Lane, you don't act like yourself." Her voice was quiet, but the emphasis behind it was unmistakable. Neil's expression relaxed for a brief moment, as if reassured by her concern, but then the small frown next to his eyebrow reappeared. Claire waited, but he didn't answer. He seemed unable to find the right words.

 

"Talking about another man isn't really one of my fantasies in bed," he tried to lighten the mood, even though his grin itself was hardly convincing. Instead of letting him off the hook, she moved a little closer, not to press him, but to stop herself from backing away again.

 

"You don't have to tell me what happened between you two, I just want to understand. And no, you don't have to try and tell me it's nothing, because I know there is." Neil's mouth twitched slightly upward at this remark, but the hint of a smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. He sighed heavily.

 

"No, you're right," he said, and then fell silent again. His mind seemed to be working; his jaw tensed, and he ran his hand over his face, as he always did when something was bothering him.

 

"Did ... something happen?" she asked again, a little louder this time, and Neil nodded almost reflexively. He grimaced and breathed a loud sigh before turning onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

 

"I started my residency at another hospital, you know that by now." Claire nodded curtly, but didn't interrupt. "Lane was my attending. It's not that we didn't get along, it was just …" She could sense him watching her out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't seem to want to look directly at her. His hand ran restlessly through his hair, and Claire pressed her lips together to prevent herself from interrupting. "It was my second week, and I made ... a mistake. A pretty serious mistake." His gaze darkened, his eyebrows furrowed, and Claire tilted her head sympathetically.

 

"And Lane blamed you for it?" Neil snorted a humorless laugh and shook his head.

 

"No, he didn’t.“ Claire raised an eyebrow questioningly, and finally, he turned his head toward her. When their eyes met, there was uncertainty in his, perhaps even shame. "He protected me." She was silent for a moment, not knowing what to say.

She only knew Neil as a boss, as an attending, and this role had always been important to him, as if he had a guideline.

He had watched the others make mistakes, but hadn't judged them for it; instead, he had supported them until they found strength within themselves again.

 

"And?" Claire asked cautiously, but Neil raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly. "That's what attendings are for, isn't it?" Neil sighed loudly again, and Claire couldn't suppress her confusion any longer; she also exhaled softly. "Talk to me," she urged him again, her voice warm but insistent. He flared his nostrils and hesitated for a brief moment.

 

"It's just the way everything went down back then, it didn't feel right. That's why I changed hospitals; we weren't on the same page anymore after that. It was a mess." Claire pressed her lips together and hummed in agreement, even though she didn't think his behavior could be explained that way. But the next moment, he exhaled softly and turned onto his side again, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

 

"That's all?" Claire asked skeptically.

She didn't need to know every detail, but what he'd given her so far didn't seem to have been enough for his mood swings since Lane had arrived at the hospital. Neil didn't answer right away, his eyes gently roaming over her face, his hand stroking the bare skin of her shoulder, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

 

"That's all," he confirmed after a few seconds that felt too long to be sincere. But his gaze was warm, the gentle smile returning to his face.

 

"Then why does it still bother you so much?" His eyes flickered past hers for a moment, almost as if he were searching for answers behind her, or simply trying to avoid her gaze.

 

"I don't know. I guess I just never really got over it." Claire frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but immediately fell silent again. She didn't want to push him unnecessarily, but she also didn't want any more secrets between them. What would it mean if he couldn't open up to her one hundred percent about it?

 

"You are not the type to hold a grudge," she said firmly. It wasn't a question, not even a comment; it was an indication that she could sense there was more to it than he was willing to admit at that moment. Neil's features reacted accordingly, his gaze becoming fixed for a moment, his hand paused, and he swallowed hard. His jaw was obviously tense, but only a short time later, his gaze softened again.

 

"You're right. I've been in my head to much about the whole thing." His voice was sincere, just like his gaze, and Claire nodded cautiously.

 

"Maybe you should talk to him? To get this out of the way. It's about time," Neil hesitated for a brief moment before nodding and pulling her a little closer.

 

"You're right. I'll do that." He pressed a kiss to her forehead before resting his chin on her head. "I promise," Claire exhaled, but she didn't feel as relieved as she had expected.

Maybe things would get better if he had actually sought out the conversation with Lane, and maybe she didn't need to know what exactly had happened. She probably wouldn't have rubbed every single detail, every single mistake of her career, in Neil's face if he hadn't been standing right there and witnessed it himself. Yet it still didn't feel as if the weight had completely lifted from her shoulders, maybe just a little lighter.

"You should sleep," he murmured softly into her hair, his voice already heavy and quieter than before. She sighed and put her arm around him before closing her eyes.

 

Neil probably had more issues to address than she had seen at first, these quirks that she would eventually have trouble with, that would make it hard to understand him. These things that turned the perfect man he so often pretended to be into a human being.

She didn't want to put unnecessary pressure on him; at least he had stopped denying that there was a problem with Lane, like he always had, and this felt like the right step.

She needed time to work on the things she felt were keeping her down, so Neil probably deserved time too, for whatever was going on in his head and whatever demons he was silently battling. Claire couldn't play herself down anymore; she didn't want to anymore, so she couldn't assume she was the reason he wasn't opening up. If she was as complex as she was, then he probably was too - she was still getting to know these sides of him and wouldn't judge him for it.

She would show him that she wouldn't pressure him, but that she could always be a shoulder to lean on when he needed it and could allow it. That was exactly what she needed from him, nothing more, nothing less. And if there was one thing she'd taken away from therapy, it was that a relationship involved two people, even if that was one of the hardest lessons she'd learned recently.

 

Claire had fallen asleep quickly, Neil's body warm against hers, his breathing heavy beneath her fingertips. It had lulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep, and that was what she needed more than anything.

She hadn't expected to be woken up in the middle of the night again, and if so, it wouldn't be like this. Her body jerked, almost as if on alert, her eyes opened quickly, albeit heavily, and she blinked a few times around the room to adjust to the darkness. It took her a few moments to understand what had happened and what had woken her, but when her gaze fell on Neil, everything inside her clenched.

His body was shaking, every muscle, every vein tense. His breathing was rapid, gasping, his fingers cramping, but the rest of his body remained motionless, his eyes closed. For a heartbeat, she simply stared at him, unsure what to do, but then his panic transferred to her, and she sat up in bed, reaching out for him. His skin was damp and burning.

 

"Neil," she whispered, beginning to jerk against him. He didn't respond, and her grip on his arm tightened. Her voice rose as she began to jerk against him harder. "Neil!" she tried again, but his body was still trapped in that state.

Claire looked restlessly around the room for something that might wake him, and for a moment her gaze fell on the water bottle, which, as always, sat next to her bed. But she immediately dismissed the thought and tried again, with both hands jerking against his cramped arm.

"Neil!" She called again, this time so loudly that it almost made her jump.

He opened his eyes abruptly, his gaze darting around the room, unfocused. Claire exhaled with relief, her heart now pounding in her throat. It took him a moment, his breathing still fast and deep, before their eyes met. In a quick movement, he propped himself up on his elbows, his brows furrowed.

 

"Claire, what's wrong? Are you okay?" His voice didn't sound like himself, borne of sleep and something else she didn't recognize. His expression was concerned, even if his eyes still weren't entirely clear. Claire's features softened.

 

"Me? I was worried about you." His face betrayed his confusion, his lips slightly parted, his brow furrowed, but his breathing had slowed. His hand slipped across the comforter toward her. Whether consciously or not, Claire couldn't tell, but she immediately reached for it and smiled gently. "I think you might had a nightmare." His eyes met hers again, and he nodded slowly, even though he didn't seem to understand. He took a deep breath before shaking his head.

 

"I'm sorry," Claire pressed her lips into a smile.

 

"Don't be," Neil slumped back onto the pillow without another word and stared at the ceiling, obviously trying to control his breathing. Every muscle in his face was tense, and that broke Claire's heart a little.

She slid toward him, letting herself sink into the mattress, her head resting on her arm, and watched him wordlessly. He looked different than usual; she almost didn't recognize him.

His face strained, like it had been in surgery, but his eyes glazed over, as if he hadn't returned to his own skin yet. Slowly and carefully, she reached out and gently ran her hand through his hair, some of it clinging to his damp forehead. He closed his eyes at her touch, and his features relaxed a little.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she whispered quietly, not even sure he'd heard. There was a moment of silence, but then he opened his eyes, his gaze now a little clearer, as he glanced briefly in her direction. He shook his head.

 

"I don't remember," Claire hummed sympathetically and sighed softly, careful not to stop the movement of her fingers.

 

"Do you often have nightmares?" Neil's jaw tensed, but he shook his head almost imperceptibly.

 

"No," the word barely louder than a breath, yet it broke before it was fully uttered. He pursed his lips and swallowed hard. "Sometimes," he corrected, a little louder this time. Claire nodded briefly and smiled, though he wasn't looking at her. "It's happens every now and then since the brewery." Claire's stomach sank, but she tried not to let it show, instead scooting a little closer so she could rest her head on his shoulder. Her hand found his arm, where she drew slow circles in his skin.

 

"I hadn't noticed before," she answered softly as his hand found its way into her hair. He laughed a humorless laugh that was more of an exhalation than anything else.

 

"It hasn't been this bad in a long time." His voice was quiet, almost as if he were ashamed to say those words and admit their meaning to himself.

Claire was silent for a while, concentrating on his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. His arm was now around her again, his body tense. She didn't want to make him feel ashamed of showing weakness, of being forced to show this side of himself, but it would have been a lie if she had thought it wasn't difficult for her to see him like this. He seemed more vulnerable, perhaps even weaker, and that was strange for a man who usually radiated so much strength. But a small part of her felt warm, simply because he let her hold him in a moment like this.

 

"I have nightmares too," she said after a few minutes of silence. She felt him turn his head slightly, but she didn't look up.

 

"Really? You never told me about that." Claire shrugged as she ran her finger along the antler on his neck.

 

"Therapy has helped. A lot. But sometimes, when I'm stressed, it gets worse." He rested his lips on her forehead, not quite kissing, but touching. His warm breath tickled her face, and she sighed softly.

 

"It's a good thing we're hardly ever stressed,“ he muttered sarcastically, and Claire snorted, a mixture of laughter and sigh. The thought occurred to her that maybe the talk about Lane had stressed Neil out and triggered the nightmare, and she felt guilty.

 

"When I wake up, sometimes it takes me a while to realize she's not really there. That it was just a dream." Neil let a soft sound escape his lips, a sound somewhere between a breath and a sigh, carrying nothing but empathy.

 

"Your mother?" Claire hummed in agreement.

 

"Breeze, yes." The word lingered between them, somehow heavy, somehow liberating. Claire had often spoken about these dreams with Dr. Malkin, though she usually didn't remember them. Sometimes her mom was the version she had known as a child, sometimes the version she had liked to have. In the end, it was all part of the same, of her, of the healing process. "Sometimes my dreams are about the earthquake," she admitted after a brief silence, feeling Neil's head turn slightly, as if he were about to look at her.

 

"Really?" She nodded curtly. "What's it about?" Claire hesitated for a moment, her eyebrows slightly furrowed as she tried to remember.

 

"I'm not really sure," Neil grumbled in agreement, but then she shrugged. "It always has something to do with you, I know that. But what exactly ... I have no idea." Neil remained silent for a moment, his hand stopping instantly.

 

"Oh," was all he said before his fingers continued to gently stroke her skin. There wasn't much to add; they probably both had similar dreams without knowing it.

 

"If it happens again, you can talk to me. Maybe it will help." He pressed his lips against her forehead, and she felt his smile against her skin.

 

„Likewise.“ She turned her head so she could look Neil in the eyes. His face was lined with exhaustion and tiredness, yet he gave her a warm smile, which Claire immediately returned. She raised her hand and gently stroked his dimple.

 

"What are you thinking about?" she whispered, noticing the deep crease next to his eyebrow. Neil opened his mouth slightly, but pressed it shut again before a word could escape. Instead, he shrugged.

 

"You, for the most part," Claire rolled her eyes, but chuckled at his cheeky tone, which had sounded more authentic before. She didn't expect him to answer honestly, but when he sighed softly, their eyes met again. "Do you sometimes wonder what we would be if that hadn't happened? The earthquake, I mean." Claire frowned, the question uncharacteristically coming from him.

These were things she would normally think about herself, and he would then tell her not to overthink it. Perhaps the earthquake was more deeply ingrained in his bones than she realized. Perhaps more than he realized, too.

 

"I don't know," she replied simply, but smiled nonetheless.

So many things should never have happened between them, but did. The timing had always been bad, and yet. There wasn't much left to rethink. "I'm pretty sure you would have gotten over it at some point and kissed me," Neil grinned slightly, cheekily, with that twinkle in his eyes that she loved so much.

 

"I would have, huh?" His voice had already regained its typical playful tone, and Claire shrugged.

 

"I can't make the first move in every universe," she teased, as nonchalantly as possible, which only made his grin wider. "Maybe I would‘ve needed to kiss Dash a few more times before you understood, but other than that ..." Neil raised his eyebrow, more out of skepticism than surprise, his smile a little smaller.

 

"Okay, please, don't put any pictures in my head." Claire's innocent expression gave way to a cheeky grin as she sat up and slid onto him. Neil's hands automatically found their way to her waist, and he didn't even try to suppress the wide smile.

 

"Pictures? Oh, you mean like when you and Lim made out in the middle of the ER, right in front of me? Those kind of pictures?" Neil grimaced and wrinkled his nose. Claire ran her hands over his chest, pleased to see his muscles flex beneath her touch.

 

"Maybe not my proudest moment, I agree," Claire raised her eyebrows.

 

"Maybe not, no." For a moment, they stopped speaking, each wearing a sillier grin than the other.

Then Claire sighed softly and sank back onto him, her head pressed into his neck, her leg loosely wrapped over his hip.

"We would have gotten here anyway. Maybe in a different way, maybe a little later, but I think everything turned out the way it was meant to," she said, so quietly that he probably wouldn't have heard if he hadn't been paying attention. His grip on her body tightened a little, not in a possessive way, but warm and holding.

 

"Softie," he whispered, and Claire smiled.

He didn't say it in the way others had; not dismissively, not like it was something to fix. When Neil said it, there was a kind of warmth beneath it, a tease, sure, but not like an insult. Not like the times she'd been told she cared too much, felt too much, that she needed to toughen up if she wanted to survive in this field, in this life.

For the first time in a long time, that word didn't feel like a weakness, but quite the opposite. Because he saw it, that softness in her, the pain she carried for every patient, every story, every scar that wasn’t hers but that she still felt like it was, and he didn’t turn away. He didn’t see it as weakness, he loved it, loved her. And Claire realized that being called a softie didn’t have to mean she was fragile. It could mean she was open. Brave enough to feel, even when it hurt. That this acceptance of feelings, of closeness, could be something good, something that could also be her strength in her private life. That when he called her a softie, that could have been the nicest compliment he could have given her. Because he saw that she was already healing, growing, that she was by his side and wouldn’t leave, not even when she felt the need to.

So she smiled, even as she slowly drifted back to sleep. Because he made it so easy for her to be a softie.

 

---

 

Notes:

Well, i would say we did have alot of growth between them, if we are thinking about their first time.
Claire can deny it as much as she wants, but if she isn't head over heels in love, who is? 😏❤️‍🩹
Lol. I hope I didn't disturbe some of you. I do feel like it's nice to see that she is able to letting go completely with him and he is at her mercy.
(No. It won't be that much each time, don't worry)

Next week will have alot of fun and drama.
Have a happy weekend!

(If you haven't checked out my new ff with Sarah, please feel free to do so 🥰)

Chapter 20: And after all, it's you I came back to

Notes:

Oh Guys, you are IN it in todays chapter.
Let me tell you, we have alot to discover, and it will be ... interesting. 🫣

Claire is off on her own mission after a very intersting night and she might spiral about the one or the other thing.
💋
We will have the introduction to a new medical storyline, which I hope you enjoy just as much as I do. I know some of you don't care too
much about storylines like this, but hey. We are Doctors, we have to have patients from time to time.
🤭
It will be a story following us through the next chapters, so I'm happy to hear your thoughts about it.

And while that is happening, Neil is doing his catching up with Jessica, which will be without any events, obviously ... right?

I hope you do have an amazing time reading. Have fun!

 

---

 

Neil was the first to get up, sneaking quietly into the bathroom so as not to wake her. Claire had woken up despite his efforts, but had turned over in bed once more, sighing contentedly as the sun's rays caught her eyes. Before he left, he had kissed her forehead, and then Claire was alone again.

She would never understand how, even after a night like this, Neil couldn't look as dead tired as she did, and she grimaced as she looked at herself in the mirror. How in the world the others hadn't guessed that she was in a secret relationship, she wasn’t sure, the previous night had been literally etched on every part of her body. Her lips were still slightly swollen, the dark circles under her eyes deeper than usual, her hair an unruly mess.

Sighing, she ran her fingers through her tangled hair to undo the worst of it, when her gaze fell on her neck. It took a second for her to believe what she was seeing, but as soon as she did, her heart started racing - adrenaline, shame?

 

"What the?" she managed to say, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide. Frantically, she leaned further over the sink to get a better look. "You've got to be kidding me ..."

Her thumb repeatedly stroked the discolored spot on her skin, but as expected, it didn't go away.

A hickey … Pulsating purple on her skin like a brand. Not only was it utterly embarrassing, it was also incredibly obvious. She might as well have had a sign hanging from her neck saying: Yes, take a good look. I had sex last night.

 

God, she felt so stupid. It had been years since she'd had a hickey; the last time was when she still lived with her mother. Back then she had managed to keep it a secret for three whole hours before her mother found out and bombarded her with questions. And now the whole thing was even worse - as a teenager almost nothing else had been expected of her, but as a grown woman?

Of course, a small, quiet part of her had wondered last night if he’d been paying a little too much attention to her neck, but really, what was she supposed to do? It wasn't her fault it had felt so good ... Damn him.

Of course he got to just slip into the hospital unnoticed while she now had to figure out how to go into work without looking like she'd spent the night in someone's dorm room.

 

She spun around, scanning the bathroom like it might cough up a solution. Concealer?

She dumped her makeup bag onto the counter, muttering, “Come on, come on, come on …” Found the tube, wrong shade.

Too light, the one she always used as highlighter when, for whatever reason, she felt the need to use highlighter. She tried it anyway, dabbing it on and blending with fingers that were getting increasingly frantic. All it did was make the bruise look like it was glowing under brown paint.

Maybe just having the right clothes? She hitched up her shirt and pulled it in every direction imaginable, but it was no use. The neckline dipped just enough to frame the bruise like she was doing it in purpose. Front and center.

Maybe she could say she burned herself with a curling iron? No, she didn’t even own a curling iron and everyone who had ever seen her knew that. Bug bite? No bug looked like it’s been sucking on her soul. Cursing Neil's name and his seduction tactics, she brushed her hair over the spot like she always used to, and yes, it did cover the hickey. But by the time she was in surgery with Lane, it would be more than just obvious, and she was sure that Lane, of all people, wouldn't let her off the hook without some information.

Frustrated, she ran back to her bedroom and flopped down on her bed. Maybe she could just own up to it, downplay it, let it stand as a fact and turn a deaf ear. That was one of the advantages of no one knowing about her relationship with Neil - how could they have guessed it was his? But the mere thought of one of her patients seeing her like that made her stomach churn. Claire ran her hands over her face and groaned in annoyance.

Cringe.

She couldn't have described it better.

 

Surely there was something funny about blocking out all the problems it could've caused - it was refreshing in a way that this was her biggest problem, like a trip back in time. If only it hadn't been so obvious. If it had been on her collarbone, her shoulder, or really anywhere else, she might have been able to giggle about it. But it was warm outside, how could she explain suddenly showing up at work wearing a turtleneck? Well, what could she do?

 

Okay, objectively speaking, it certainly wasn't that bad. Maybe it wouldn't even obviously be a hickey, sure, the skin was a bit discolored, the spot more than just noticeable, but would anyone question it if she didn't make a fuss herself? Actually, Claire doubted it, but the thought of those questioning looks made her nervous. She didn't want to draw any more unnecessary attention to herself.

 

She had to accept her fate. And so she did, walking over to the drawer where she kept her scarfs. She hoped she'd find one that wasn't too conspicuous, perhaps blending in unobtrusively with her outfit. How she'd manage in the operating room was still a mystery to her - maybe just turn away and hope for the best? - but for now, a scarf would have to be the best option. Again, cringe.

She grabbed the only solid-colored scarf she owned, a shade of yellow, of course, what else, and shook her head in frustration, albeit a little amused, as she got ready for work.

 

****

 

With a lukewarm coffee in her hand, Claire headed upstairs, not without repeatedly tugging at her scarf, afraid that it might slip and expose her. She couldn't shake the feeling that the day was dragging on far too much, and she mentally made a note to stop at the drugstore and pick up a new concealer on the way back. Of course, she hadn't managed to do that before; it would have been too easy that way.

Claire's grip on her mug tightened as she walked through the door of the Residents' Lounge and saw Shaun already sitting at the table. Her heart was pounding in her chest, even though Shaun was probably the least of her problems.

 

"Good morning, Shaun," she greeted him as neutrally as possible.

He glanced up only briefly before his gaze fell back on the tablet he had placed on the table in front of him. Good. Normality.

Claire cleared her throat and sat down in one of the empty chairs opposite him. She watched him for a moment and tilted her head. "Have you spoken to Glassman lately, Shaun? How's he doing?" Shaun looked in her direction, his fingers interlaced on the table in front of him.

 

"I visit him every day." Claire grimaced in surprise, but nodded cautiously.

Since Glassman was released from the hospital, she had hardly seen him, apart from the charity event. All she knew were the stories she heard from Lea, who was eager to visit him as often as possible. Claire hadn't been sure what Glassman had thought of the whole thing or how he felt about Lea now. But surely he'd made his peace with her, just as Claire had when she saw her with Shaun. "He asked me if I really wanted him to join me for karaoke, and I said yes." Claire chuckled slightly and sipped her coffee.

 

"So tomorrow is still on the cards?" Shaun nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards almost imperceptibly before he turned back to his tablet. "That's nice, I haven't seen him in a long time either," Shaun nodded.

 

"You're always here at the hospital and he's at home. There is no way for you to meet him, unless you visit him. But you didn’t." Claire chuckled slightly and sank even deeper into her chair, glancing at her watch.

She was a little early, and now she regretted not having just gone to the drugstore beforehand and risked being a few minutes late. Maybe she would have done it with anyone else, but since she was working with Lane again, she decided not to.

 

"How's he?" she asked again, and for a brief moment Shaun remained motionless before shaking his head, a movement so small it could have been dismissed as a twitch. But Claire had known Shaun for too long not to notice the slight change in his posture.

 

"He's fine," Claire leaned forward a little, studying Shaun, who she was sure was avoiding her gaze. Before she could ask him about it, however, the door opened and Morgan came into the lounge, stretching.

 

"Good Mor - oh! Someone had a night," she said, grinning broadly as her gaze landed on Claire.

Claire felt her cheeks flush and barely managed to suppress the urge to touch her neck as Morgan turned to the coffee machine and hummed amusedly.

 

"What are you talking about?" Claire asked as casually as possible.

It sounded convincing to her own ears, but she also wasn't sure, as her heart was pounding in her throat. Her fingers gripped her mug so tightly she was afraid her fingertips would pierce the cardboard, but she still forced a small smile when Morgan glanced over her shoulder at her.

 

"Well, you don't sound particularly hoarse." Her voice was sharp, but still more than amused, and Claire closed her eyes for a brief moment, the heat rising to her forehead. This couldn't end well.

 

"So?" she continued, playing it as dumb as she could. Morgan turned to her slowly, the grin on her face subtle, but the twinkle in her eyes all the more present.

 

"It's July," she continued, shoving her hands into the pockets of her lab coat, her expression more than just smug. Claire gritted her teeth, her head tilted.

 

"Is there a point to this, or are you just bored?" Morgan's grin widened as she took a step toward Claire, resting her hands on the chair next to her.

Great, thought Claire. So much for acting as inconspicuously as possible … She should have decided against the scarf.

 

"Oh, I'm very entertained." She pulled out her chair and sat down opposite Claire, her gaze seemingly piercing her skin.

Her fingernails drummed on the table, as if she expected Claire to break the pressure and start chatting freely. Shaun raised his gaze, staring irritably at Morgan's finger movements, but before he could say anything, Morgan stopped. Her tongue brushed over her upper teeth before she began to giggle almost devilishly. "Let me guess. It's a fashion statement? Or maybe you've got a sudden neck rash? An allergy to sunlight? A mysterious throat injury?" Claire's teeth sank into the flesh of her cheek, her mind racing as she considered how to get out of the situation.

 

"It's just a little rash," she said, her voice quiet enough not to break, "From the jewelry I wore to the charity event." Morgan's eyes narrowed, and Claire almost thought she'd been convincing enough. "I just don't wear necklaces very often, that’s probably why." Claire pressed her lips together.

Stop talking, damn it. You're only making it worse.

Morgan hummed - in agreement? Incredulity? Maybe both.

 

"Claire Browne. Did you get yourself a souvenir from last night's activities?" Claire exhaled heavily and clenched her fingers into a fist, but she only gave Morgan a quick smile.

 

"No idea what you're talking about. Necklace, rash, end of story." Whatever Claire said, Morgan's grin only widened as she leaned forward a little further, as if trying to peek under the scarf.

 

"Oh sure. That's just a random scarf, casually hiding the very specific area where a hickey might live. Coincidence." Claire shook her head and brought her mug back to her lips, not even to drink, but simply to escape the moment. How much she hated Neil right then ...

 

"It's not always about sex, Morgan." Morgan pressed her lips together, but leaned back in her chair, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers.

 

"Not always," she began, innocently and gently, "But the scarf and your face are." Claire would have done anything at that moment to sink into the ground, or at least wipe that cheeky grin off Morgan's face. Her ears burned, and Claire was sure they were completely red by now.

 

"You have a wild imagination," Morgan hummed, nodding a few times, but not as if she believed her, more as if she already knew what secret Claire was so desperately trying to hide.

 

"Oh no, I have experience, and as you may have noticed, I'm not blind." When their eyes met, Morgan's softened a little, her smile more compassionate. "Use concealer next time. It'll hide the rash more subtly." Claire suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, but was glad she'd dropped the subject.

She nodded slowly, her finger dancing around the rim of her mug to shift her focus elsewhere. Of all days, Dr. Lane was late on a day like this. She exhaled softly and heavily as Morgan leaned closer.

"Are you and Melendez still close?" Immediately, heat rose in Claire's cheeks, and she could have sworn she was bright red by now. For a moment, she couldn't help but stare at Morgan, her heart pounding far too fast against her ribcage, her palms suddenly damp with sweat.

 

"What? I mean, more or less, like ... I don't know," she stammered, hating herself even more for it.

Morgan raised her eyebrow skeptically, her gaze flickering to Shaun, who still wasn't paying her any attention. When she looked back at Claire, she put her hand in front of her face, as if trying to hide a secret from Shaun.

 

"I've heard some rumors," she whispered softly, the undertone of her voice playful.

Claire's throat was stone dry, and she felt like she was losing all ability to speak or think in an instant. For a moment, all she could do was stare at Morgan, completely perplexed.

 

"Rumors?" she asked just as quietly, not out of fear that Shaun would hear her, but that her voice would reveal something. She wasn't sure what Morgan was getting at, but she didn't like the way she was looking at her at all. She nodded slowly.

 

"The night of the charity event, I saw him disappear into the elevator. The one that leads to the hotel rooms." Her eyebrows were raised sharply, her voice so full of excitement and mischief that it knocked the breath out of Claire's lungs.

 

"Really?" Her voice was an octave too high, but Morgan didn't seem to notice.

She launched into a detailed account of how she'd needed some air and gone outside, and when she came back, she'd seen Neil, full of energy, getting into the elevator and looking more than a little caught, when he'd realized Morgan had seen him.

Claire cursed in her head, almost rolled her eyes.

Of course he'd been seen. Someone had probably seen her leave too, and soon everyone would be able to put the puzzle together. It had been stupid, naive, to think they could have just slipped away, surrounded by their colleagues and friends, without anyone noticing.

She bit her lip - she'd thought she'd been careful enough, had left half an hour before him, had made sure no one saw her, and now this.

 

"Someone saw Jessica Preston get into the elevator too," she continued, and Claire froze. She was almost a little stunned, perhaps overwhelmed, and for a moment she questioned herself as to what had happened that evening.

 

"What do you mean?" she asked, obviously far too confused. Morgan wrinkled her nose and nodded in her direction, as if she should already know what she was talking about.

 

"Think about it. Jessica Preston and Melendez are seen together at the event - obviously flirting. Mrs. Preston practically sneaks out of the party before anything has really happened, and just a short time later, I see our Melendez sneak off as well. Into one of the hotel rooms. What does that tell us?" Claire clenched her jaw, torn between what she knew and what she should say. Was it better for her to let Morgan believe it, or should she try to talk her out of it?

 

"So you think ... what? That they snuck out of the event to make out?" Morgan tapped her temple a few times with a sly smile before slumping back in her chair, satisfied.

 

"And that's not all," Claire suppressed a sigh and forced a surprised smile.

 

"It’s not?" Her voice probably sounded as enthusiastic as she felt, but it didn't dampen Morgan's spirits; she shook her head euphorically. She dared a quick glance in Shaun's direction, but he barely reacted, and Claire doubted he'd care, even if he were listening.

 

"No. Apparently, Melendez is leaving work early today ... to meet with her." Her mouth opened in shock before she laughed.

Claire forced a more or less authentic grin. While she was glad that Morgan seemed completely oblivious to what was going on between her and Neil, she had also expected it to feel better if no one knew about their relationship. And if Morgan suspected he was having an affair with someone else, at least their secret was safe between them. It didn't feel good, though.

"Who would have thought those two would find their way back together?" Morgan murmured, almost to herself, before giving Claire an intense look that burned on her skin. She frowned, but before she could say anything, Morgan sighed dreamily. "Can't blame her - he looked really good enough to eat in that suit and tie." Claire slowly exhaled from her nostrils and crossed one leg over the other before clearing her throat.

 

"Interesting," she began with a thoughtful tone that seemed to pique Morgan's interest, as her gaze flickered directly to her, her eyebrow raised. "I noticed a few things at the event, too," she added with a meaningful look before sipping her coffee.

 

"You did?" Claire suppressed a chuckle at the slightly unsettled tone in Morgan's voice and shrugged to downplay it. She didn't want to corner her, but she had to play her cards carefully to get as much out of her as possible.

 

"Oh, our Alex seemed very busy too." She turned her head a little more in Morgan's direction and looked at her as well, as if she already knew all her secrets.

Morgan didn't react immediately, but the small frown between her eyebrows deepened almost immediately as she tried to read Claire's gaze. When she still didn't say anything after another moment, Claire stretched extensively.

"He seems to quite like Nurse Stacy. They couldn't stop themselves from seeing each other all evening." Morgan snorted and shook her head, obviously not particularly pleased by this information. The corner of Claire's mouth twitched upward before she could stop it.

 

"Nurse Stacy? Doesn't she have a husband at home?" Her voice reflected considerably more emotion than she had probably intended, and Claire raised a challenging eyebrow, but Morgan avoided her gaze.

 

"Divorced," Claire corrected, and for a brief moment their eyes met. "How ... fitting, don't you think?" At that moment, Morgan's gaze darkened a little before she could hide it, and Claire hesitated.

A small part of her felt bad when she noticed the shadow on her face. She knew only too well what that feeling of jealousy felt like, the one she suspected she saw in Morgan. But another part of her wanted to push her even further, just enough to finally find out what had happened between them. She pressed her lips together and sighed. "Okay, I'm just going to ask you straight away," Morgan frowned.

 

"Ask me what?" Claire leaned forward a bit, deciding to let the teasing go. She wasn't the type to grill her until she got the information she wanted. Besides, Morgan hadn't questioned her about her scarf again when she realized she didn't want to talk about it.

 

"Is there something going on between you and Alex?" Morgan hesitated for a moment, her face showing surprise and vulnerability. Claire expected her to deny it, or perhaps admit it with shame, but she hadn't expected Morgan to laugh the way she did the next moment.

 

"Oh my God, what? Why would you say that?" Claire held her gaze, unsure how to interpret her reaction and whether she was trying to hide her true feelings. If that was the case, then Claire had to admit she was more than good at it. Claire shrugged, her gaze still warm.

 

"I don't know, you guys act like that. I mean, I'm not judging you, I just think -" Morgan raised her hand, interrupting her mid-sentence.

 

"Okay, Claire. That's sweet, really. But don't be ridiculous," Claire raised an eyebrow. "There's nothing between Park and I, there never was, and God, there never will be, okay?" Claire nodded slowly.

 

"Okay," Morgan shook her head and rolled her eyes, almost in annoyance, as she turned away from her, and for a moment Claire thought that maybe Neil had misread the signs.

It had sounded plausible, but maybe only because he'd been so convinced that Claire hadn't been able to imagine how it couldn't have been. But probably there was nothing there, except the usual rivalry they always shared.

But then, just for the briefest of moments, Morgan dropped her mask, and Claire noticed her face twist, not as if she'd been accused, but as if she'd hit the mark. Claire sighed and turned away from her as well. "If you ever want to talk about it ...," she added, and Morgan shook her head.

 

"There's nothing to talk about," Claire gave her a quick smile.

 

"I know, still," Morgan said nothing more, but Claire was sure she saw the hint of gratitude in her face.

She would have liked to talk to Morgan about it, not even necessarily just because of the gossip, although that was certainly part of it. But now it was more than that; Claire would have liked to be there for Morgan, as she always was, without making a big deal about it.

It wasn't like she could see Alex and Morgan making a good couple - from the outside, they seemed as different as fire and water. But maybe that was exactly what made it work, and maybe he could have been good for her, too. Whatever had happened between them, Claire wanted nothing more for both of them than to be happy, and maybe Morgan would feel better someday if she could talk to her.

 

The three of them sat in silence after that, and Claire was growing impatient.

But before she could think about whether she should inform anyone that Dr. Lane had already been half an hour late, he strolled through the door, his smile a little more subtle than usual, his wrinkles deeper than normal - he seemed exhausted, and that was something that struck Claire as bitter.

Because Lane, like everyone else, was naturally exhausted most of the time; it was something that a job like this entailed, but normally, it was always something he was more than adept at disguising.

But this time, he didn't seem to care. Claire immediately wondered if it had something to do with what he'd told her in the OR, about his girlfriend being in town. After all, he'd made it a point to be able to see her that day. But before she could even think about interfering in his private life, he flashed her another charming smile.

 

"I see I'm already expected." His voice was a little quieter than usual, but the cheeky grin soon returned to his face. "Murphy, you're not with me today, are you?" Shaun shook his head.

 

"No, I'm not." He offered no further explanation, and Richard simply nodded curtly before placing a hand on both Morgan and Claire's shoulders.

 

"Well, then I have good news for those two beauties. Or bad, depending on how you look at it." Morgan raised an eyebrow, but a brief smile still crept across her face.

 

"What is it?" Lane glanced at her briefly before taking a step away and placing his hands on his hips.

 

"Bad news - the microdiscectomy is canceled." Morgan grimaced and turned her body away from him, almost in disappointment.

But that only brought Lane's attitude back, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "But the good news is, I have something much cooler to show you today. Come with me." Claire and Morgan exchanged a brief, uncertain glance, but stood up simultaneously and followed him without another word.

His walk was back to the confident and smug way Claire was used to, and when she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, she saw the concentrated expression on his face.

 

"So, what does cool mean to you? Hopefully not ER duty again, right? I was on that last week," Morgan asked and Lane gave her a quick glance and chuckled as they reached the elevator.

 

"You underestimate me, Reznick." He also pressed the button and whistled contentedly, a tune Claire didn't recognize. She raised an eyebrow and looked past him at Morgan, who now seemed more than a little annoyed. Claire shrugged skeptically and turned her gaze back to the front as the doors opened in front of them.

"I heard you're both interested in Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome," he began again as he pushed into the elevator, the other two following him. "Very impressive." He pressed the button, and Claire raised her eyebrow in surprise when she realized he was leading them into the lab.

 

"You want to talk to us about Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome?" Morgan asked, and Claire's stomach lurched at the swell of hope in her voice. Lane seemed to have the same thought, because his whistling stopped for a brief moment as he glanced at her.

 

"Not exactly," The doors closed and the elevator started moving. "But your interest in that topic shows me that you're the people I’m looking for,“ Claire raised an eyebrow and shoved her hands into the pockets of her lab coat, but couldn't hide the confusion in her voice.

 

"The people you are looking for? For what?" Lane's grin widened, his gaze darting between the two before nodding.

 

"The future," Morgan laughed in surprise, perhaps a little overwhelmed, but was already tying her hair back into a ponytail. Claire noticed Lane's face beginning to light up as he pulled out his phone and seemed to be searching for something. "I've been working on this since my time as a resident, and a few month ago I finally got the go-ahead to move on to the testing phase." He handed his phone to Morgan, who took it with a skeptical look.

 

"Is this a prototype?" Lane's grin widened even further.

 

"No. It's the prototype. Fully implanted, responsive, learning. A closed-loop interface that adapts to the patient in real time." Morgan handed the phone to Claire, who tilted her head and slid her fingers across the display to zoom in.

 

"What kind of patients?"

 

"Traumatic brain injury. Early-stage Alzheimer's. Stroke survivors with aphasia. I'm not patching things up anymore - I'm building the system that fixes them before they even know they're broken." Claire and Morgan exchanged a glance, but the energy radiating from Lane immediately captivated them again. She could feel it burning beneath his skin, his face focused, but above all proud.

 

"This isn't just neurostimulation. You're talking about mapping cognition. Manipulating memory pathways," Morgan said so quietly it was almost a whisper, her voice reverent.

 

"Not manipulating. Restoring. Giving people themselves back," he corrected, his voice warm but emphatic. "One of my recent patients, Henry Walters, couldn't remember his wife's name last month. Yesterday he recited their wedding vows." Claire handed him the phone back, her mouth slightly open.

 

"So you're rewriting identity. Playing memory architect." Lane gave her a long look, his brows furrowed, his jaw visibly tense. But instead of reprimanding Claire, he simply shook his head and looked back ahead.

 

"I'm correcting a glitch in the operating system. When a car gets a software update, no one calls it unnatural. But when we upgrade a brain, suddenly it's unethical?" He pressed his lips together and shook his head again before exhaling loudly. "I've spent the last twenty years working on these very prototypes. All my savings, my relationships ... I left Massachusetts, came here, for this. Because this little thing will outlive us all."

For a brief moment, there was silence between them, the only sound being the elevator humming in the background. Morgan watched Lane out of the corner of her eye, her expression a mixture of uncertainty and awe. Claire pressed her lips together, but the words still came out.

 

"You're talking about inserting AI-driven algorithms into the human brain. You don't know how it'll evolve." Lane didn't seem surprised by her concern, not even annoyed. He put his hands in his pockets and nodded.

 

"That's why I'm running the trial here. That's why I need both of you. Diagnostics and surgery. The whole picture." Morgan nodded slowly, perhaps already a little excited, and a similar feeling spread through Claire. Looking at it objectively, it was a great opportunity for her and her career, an honor to have been chosen by him. Even if she didn't yet stand behind what he said or saw, Lane had a way of making everything seem convincing. "You don't have to believe in it yet. But you'll see. One patient. That's all I need to prove it works." Claire sighed quietly, but nodded, deciding not to jump to conclusions just yet. She felt Lane's gaze on her, but stubbornly stared straight ahead, even as he raised his eyebrow.

"What's up with the scarf?"

 

****

 

He hadn't been to this café in ages, not because he couldn't, but because he didn't want to. Far too many memories were connected to it - hours of conversation, pleasant, much-needed peace and quiet, her smile on the day of their first date.

He hadn't wanted to return to that part of his past, but that seemed to have been the plan for the evening.

So Neil had gone along with it, ordered the same coffee as every other time, bought the muffin he'd bought so often before work because he knew Jessica loved it so much. And now he was nervously tapping his foot up and down, staring back and forth between his watch and the now-cold coffee he'd ordered for her. Jessica had never been late before, and for a brief moment Neil wondered if he'd seem desperate if he called her again.

He'd certainly been happy that she'd invited him, if only for old times' sake, but he didn't want to seem like he'd only been waiting for this.

But he had finally come, even though his work schedule hadn't really allowed for it, and even less so his sleep pattern. The night had been exhausting; it was no coincidence that this was already his third cup of coffee.

 

Maybe Claire had been right, and the nightmares had only been intensified by the stress. He couldn't deny that he was stressed, because of the whole thing with Lane and Jessica.

He was glad that Claire had been so understanding, even though he hadn't expected anything else, but a small part of him had been ashamed of it. Maybe that was the reason he hadn't talked to her about it yet, because he didn't want to admit to himself that he had a problem, that he wasn't in control anymore.

But Neil felt at least a little lighter now that Claire had seen this side of him and had been there for him. He felt safe; maybe now the nightmares would go away on their own.

 

"Hey, I'm so sorry," he heard suddenly and immediately looked up. Jessica walked briskly toward him, her smile as wide as ever, mirroring his own. "This morning has been so stressful, I haven't even had a minute to look at my phone." He stood up and let her hug him as she reached their table.

 

"It's fine, I'm glad you're here." When she pulled away, her gaze immediately fell on the table and the things he'd prepared, and her lips pressed into a melancholy smile.

 

"Oh, Neil,"

He chuckled as warmth spread through his chest. He loved that look on her face - always a little surprised that, amidst the hustle and bustle of everyday life, he'd take the time for her, even with little things to make her happy.

She sat down in the chair opposite him and didn't hesitate for a second before reaching for the muffin and taking a delicious bite. She moaned contentedly and slumped back in her chair.

"God, I'm sorry, I was starving," Neil watched with amusement as she ate the pastry in just a few bites, her eyes closed.

 

"Better pastries than in Boston, huh?" She rolled her eyes and nodded.

 

"You have no idea," she murmured before leaning forward on the table again. "When I think about having to take the plane back tonight, everything inside me tightens." Neil nodded understandingly, but remained silent.

It was strange, suddenly he was lost for words.

After everything that had happened in the last few days, it was as if he had almost nothing left to say to her, as if she had only drifted further away from him. Since she didn't bother to break the silence, it remained quiet for a while between them and their bubble of past and present.

 

"So, do you have any idea when you'll be back again?" he asked after a moment. She immediately raised her gaze but shook her head.

 

"Unfortunately not. There's so much going on at home, I don't know where my head is." She leaned back in her chair and folded her hands over her stomach. Neil raised an eyebrow but gave her a slight smile.

 

"So, everything's the same," he noted, and Jessica chuckled. She nodded slowly, perhaps a little hesitantly, but Neil didn't press the question. Instead, he watched her face break into a wide grin.

 

"Speaking of which," Neil frowned, noticing the amused tone in her voice, but when their eyes met, there was so much warmth in hers that he automatically relaxed. "Do you want to tell me who she is?" Neil inhaled sharply, immediately knowing where she was going with this. But instead of responding, his head jerked in a playful direction before reaching for his coffee.

 

"Who's who?" She was already rolling her eyes slightly, probably noticing the sarcastic undertone in his voice.

 

"The woman who stole your heart," Neil grimaced in surprise. Jessica wasn't usually the type to over-romanticize, but the twinkle in her eyes and the amused smile at the corners of her mouth confirmed this thought.

"The one responsible for that stupid grin on your face." Neil didn't suppress said grin anymore; instead, he put his cup back on the coaster and shook his head.

He still wasn't entirely sure how to handle the subject. Admitting that there was someone in his life had been a nice feeling, and seeing her sincere reaction to it had been even more so. It might even have been easy, after all, Jessica was disappearing that very afternoon, and he didn't assume she was out to mess up his life by setting him up.

 

"Why do you think you know her?“ he asked instead, even though the tone in his voice probably already gave him away.

It was usually easy for him to put on a front, to let people know only what he wanted, but with Jessica, it was a whole different story. Even if he had tried, she probably would have noticed from the first breath if he was trying to hide something. So why try?

 

"Oh, I don't know," Jessica snorted and sighed. "You spend ninety percent of your life in the hospital, where else are you going to meet someone?" Neil rolled his eyes and smirked.

When he realized his feelings for Claire ran deeper than friendship, he'd asked himself the exact same question. After all, it was no coincidence that, despite all the odds, he always fell in love with the women at his workplace.

 

"Is that the lawyer speaking, or just someone who cares about me?" he asked, his grin already warm and welcoming. Jessica seemed to consider it for a moment before shrugging.

 

"I'd say friend," Neil nodded, the words already on the tip of his tongue, even though something inside him resisted it.

Jessica had a way of looking at him that still mattered, even after all these years. Like she could see every version of him at once - the idealistic resident, the cautious attending, the man who wanted kids. The man she left. Or the one who let her go. He wasn't sure which. Would she judge him for falling in love with Claire?

Claire, who had walked into his life like a question he didn’t know he’d been avoiding.

Young, yes, but not naive. Special, funny, terribly brave. She saw through him in ways that were both unsettling and comforting. She made him feel like someone he hadn’t been in a long time. But would Jessica understand that? He wasn't sure.

He could already imagine the way she might raise her brow, not harshly, but with that quiet, analytical skepticism she always carried with her.

She's your resident? And how much younger is she?

The implication wouldn’t need to be spoken. Jessica had always believed in boundaries. Not because she didn’t feel, but because she knew how easily feelings could ruin things if left unchecked.

She might think he’d crossed a line. That he’d let something personal compromise his judgment. That he was impulsive, even reckless. Even if he knew that he wasn’t, never was. At the end, maybe a little, when he had chosen her despite everything he knew.

But the path to get there hadn’t been easy and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen the problems behind it, that he hadn’t judged himself for it. He had drawn that line time and again, had pushed Claire away more than once - something he now regretted, but which had felt right, necessary in the moment.

But at some point that had no longer been possible, but he didn’t know if Jessica would understand that.

He didn’t want Jessica to think less of him. Not because he owed her anything, but because her opinion had always cut through the noise. She’d known him during a time when he thought he had everything figured out, before he realized how much he didn’t. And maybe there was some part of him, the quiet, self-doubting part, that wondered if she'd be right.

If this thing with Claire made him foolish, or weak. If it would look, from the outside, like he'd blurred a line just because he was lonely.

But Claire wasn't a reaction to his loneliness. She was the reason he'd finally stopped feeling alone.

 

"You're right," he finally began with a sigh.

He had chosen Claire before and he would do it again. If Jessica didn't understand him, then that was just the way it was. He understood himself better now than he ever had, and Claire had always understood him, even when he hadn't wanted her to.

"She's a colleague," Jessica paused briefly, but nodded after a few seconds, as if none of this had been new information. When she looked at him, studied him, her gaze wasn't judgmental, but warm and understanding. She exhaled for a long time, and Neil's heart automatically beat a little faster.

 

"It's Audrey, isn't it?" she asked, and Neil jumped in surprise, his eyebrows raised. "It's okay, you can tell me, I'm not mad." Neil stared at her perplexed for a moment, his mouth slightly open, his eyebrows tightly drawn together.

 

"What? Why Audrey? And why should you be mad about that?" She shrugged and let him sit in silence for a moment.

Sure, it wasn't far-fetched that it was Audrey, after all, they had a history together. Perhaps the person who had given Lane the false information about him had also spoken to Jessica at the charity event and clarified the less-than-current situation.

 

"I don't know. I always thought there might be something between you two," Neil immediately shook his head.

 

"Why are you saying this? I was with you back then." Jessica's features softened a little, and she held out her hand on the table, as if to signal that it was okay. Something about the gesture almost made him angry.

 

"It's okay, Neil. I'm not saying I assumed you'd cheat on me with her. I'm just saying, it wouldn't surprise me if you'd found each other by now." Neil was still shaking his head, a soft snort escaping his lips.

Perhaps this statement made him so angry because he knew that in the end, it had actually turned out that way, even if only for a short time and not in the way he might have wanted. But hearing it from Jessica now felt wrong.

 

"You know, you were the only one for me, Jess. I didn't think about anyone else for a second while we were together. That's not who I am." His voice was colder than he'd planned, perhaps because there was a hint of shame in it. Even though he was convinced he meant every word, he wasn't someone who played two cards, someone who let his gaze wander. He was faithful, consciously and subconsciously.

 

"Okay, okay," she began again, exhaling calmly. "I didn't mean to offend you, I'm sorry." Neil nodded curtly and considered for a brief moment whether he should tell her what had happened between him and Audrey, just in case she found out from someone else, but decided against it.

"Who is it then?" she asked, a little more warmly this time, and Neil sighed heavily as he caught her eye.

His heart pounded in his ears, not just because he wondered what she would think, but because he wondered what Claire would think of him talking about it with someone. And with Jessica, as it was.

But wasn't that better than keeping Claire a secret? If that were the case, maybe she'd suspect there were still feelings for Jessica he no longer had.

 

"It's Claire," he finally said simply, as casually as possible, but he felt the weight her name held between them.

Jessica tilted her head, eyebrows furrowed, obviously confused. It was rattling behind her eyes, and the seconds it took her dragged on unbearably. But then her eyes shot open and she leaned forward a little.

 

"Claire? As in Claire Browne? Your resident?" Neil suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and instead sighed softly. He didn't want to reduce her to that, the reaction he'd feared. He leaned back in his chair, but held her gaze.

 

"Claire Browne, my resident, yes." Her face remained serious as her eyes darted all over his face, presumably searching for remorse or some sign that he was joking. After a few moments, she had recovered, her gaze a little cooler, more professional.

 

"What does HR have to say about that?" Neil pressed his lips together and wrinkled his nose. That was apparently enough, because Jessica's face showed disappointment. "Neil ...," He hated that tone in her voice, not just indignant, almost accusatory.

It wasn't that he couldn't understand how this would look from the outside, especially from a lawyer's perspective, but he didn't see the point in justifying someone who made him happy to someone who broke his heart.

 

"What, Jessica? Is it stupid that I didn't drag her to HR immediately? Reckless, perhaps? That’s all I’m thinking about. I know how it looks from the outside." He took a deep breath, "But can you really blame me for wanting to give it time before making it public? After everything that's happened between you and me …“ He searched her gaze, but couldn't read it. He clenched his teeth, knowing he was repeating Claire's words and not his own.

"I just really want it to work this time." Jessica sighed, her gaze burning on his skin.

There was no point in telling her that he was the one who agreed with her, that Claire didn't want to make it public, not yet. This was something that only concerned him and Claire.

 

"And you love her?" Her voice wasn't accusatory, but it wasn't empathetic either. It was the voice of the lawyer in her. Neil furrowed his eyebrows even more.

 

"It's nothing casual," he said, his words heavy but emphatic. Her expression didn't change, but her finger slowly ran over her coffee cup, which she hadn't touched yet.

 

"That’s not what I asked," Neil sighed again, but only nodded slowly.

 

"I do."

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it was anything but relaxed. Their eyes met every now and then, but neither of them spoke, so the weight of his words only weighed heavier between them. After a while, she sighed softly.

 

"Neil ...," she began, and when he looked up, her gaze was a little warmer, even if the understanding was still missing in it. "I don't judge you for this," Neil paused, a small, disbelieving sound leaving his lips.

 

"You don't?" She shook her head.

 

"Do I think it's stupid and inconsiderate? Yes. Do I think there are a hundred other ways you could have handled things? Yes. But you're an adult, and even though I still care about you, it's no longer my place to tell you what to do." Neil nodded hesitantly, the undertone in her voice unfamiliar to him. Her gaze was a little warmer now, but he still couldn't read it.

 

"Very well," he murmured, which elicited a half-hearted smile from her. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes never leaving his.

 

"It's your decision, and if that makes you happy, then so be it." Neil raised his eyebrow, as if he could sense something was off.

Maybe it was the way she looked at him, with something in her eyes he couldn't interpret, maybe it was the tone of her voice that didn't match her gestures, but something was odd about her. He watched her finger rest on the rim of the cup as she sighed again.

"I think we've both gone down a path we never imagined." Neil tilted his head, a sickening feeling in his stomach.

 

"Everything alright, Jess?“ he asked, and something inside him shuddered when he saw her look - worried, uncertain, maybe even a little ashamed. She sat up fully, her hand deliberately reaching for his this time before he could pull it away.

 

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about." Neil nodded reflexively, even though his thoughts were already spinning in chaos and he couldn't think clearly. The last time he'd seen a look like that was when she'd told him she was leaving him, already knowing she was going to rip his heart out.

 

"What's wrong, Jess?" Her lips curved into a slight smile, but it disappeared faster than it had come.

 

"Nothing's wrong. I still wanted to talk to you. I think you should hear it from me." He stared at her, unable to say a word, though he couldn't even think of what to say.

He couldn't think of a single thing she'd want to talk to him about, not when she already knew about Claire, not after they hadn't seen each other in years.

 

"What is it?" he asked again as the silence stretched on. Her gaze lifted from the table, her eyes shining as she sighed. She hesitated, not dramatically, but as if she still needed to prepare herself for what she was going to say and what it would mean.

 

"I'm pregnant."

The words hung in the air, harsh, a little lost.

Jessica said nothing else. Just those two words, the ones he'd wanted from her for so long, but which now seemed like they came from a different time, as if Jessica was moving her lips, but another person was speaking.

Neil didn't respond immediately, probably not even breathing, just staring at her, as if her words would made more sense the longer he looked at her. But the more time passed, the more his throat tightened.

 

"You're ...," He shook his head, disbelieving, confused about the meaning of her words, how they could fit with the Jessica he knew. "Pregnant?" Her lips pressed into a smile, even if it didn't seem genuine, more like a little ashamed.

 

"I am," He leaned back in his chair, as if he needed the space to process her words, as if he could understand them better from further away.

 

"You're having a baby," he whispered, more to himself than to her, as if trying to translate the words into something his mind could understand.

She smiled empathetically, but said nothing more, leaning back in her chair, her hands on her stomach, as if she already wanted to protect what wasn't yet visible. Neil's gaze darted between her hands, her face, and her untouched coffee, and suddenly it was as if a puzzle he didn't know he was trying to solve was coming together.

 

"It wasn't planned, in case you were wondering." Neil just nodded and watched as her thumb gently stroked her belly, and while a small part of him tightened, another warmed all the more.

 

"You didn't want children," he murmured again. "You were so sure. You said never." Finally, he raised his gaze again, and when he met her eyes, he saw more there than he expected. She looked happy, warmer than he'd ever seen her.

 

"And I still don't want them now," she whispered, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. "But I want this baby. More than I could have ever imagined." His head was a mess; old memories, past dreams and desires, arguments, and this twist of fate, too late and too far removed to be undone, but close enough to sting.

 

"So … you're okay with it?" he asked, not knowing if he even wanted to hear the answer. Jessica nodded slowly.

 

"Yes. I just think you deserve to know that." Neil gave a short, humorless laugh before he could stop himself.

Strange how life played out sometimes, how cruelly twisted it could be sometimes. There she was, sitting in front of him, the woman he'd wanted to share a life with, a family with, and who'd let him go because she hadn't wanted that. Maybe she just hadn't wanted that with him, hadn't been able to imagine it with him. He sighed.

 

"How ... does this fit into your life?" he finally asked, even though it felt a little intrusive in the next moment. If he was honest, he didn't know anything about her life anymore, not about her, not about how she imagined the future.

 

"Not at all," she answered, her voice filled with humor, and Neil couldn't help but notice the gleam in her eyes. "I don't want to lie to you, I'm terrified and sometimes I still doubt I can do all of this." Her gaze landed on her stomach and her features softened. "And I know this sounds like a cliché, but ever since I found out about that little bug, I can't imagine my life without it." Neil's teeth clenched, the silence between them stretched. And for once, Neil didn't try to fill it, not with reason or logic, with anything clever or funny. He let the grief twitch across his face, silently and without hiding it.

Nothing had changed; he still didn't want Jessica back, even though she now embodied everything he once wanted. But some part of him couldn't stop staring at her stomach and gritting his teeth.

Neil wasn't so self-absorbed that he actually believed he had been the problem, that he just wasn't the right one for her. It had still been best to go their separate ways when they did, even if from this angle it suddenly didn't seem that way anymore. Because if they had just stayed together, and she had maybe gotten pregnant at some point, maybe she would have fallen in love with that child just as much as she did with the one she was now carrying.

Maybe.

Maybe that was what tasted so bitter in his mouth, that he would never know. That this path, which had once seemed so closed, so utterly improbable, was now realistic.

He couldn't deny that this triggered something in him he hadn't realized was still there; The question of timing, as brutal as it had been.

Because, many years too late, her life was finally giving her what he had wanted, and she looked ... content. As if she didn't mind that this child, her child, would turn her life upside down, perhaps even get in the way of her career.

He didn’t feel jealous, and that was what surprised him the most. Not feeling what he expected, not envious, not bitter. Just … displaced.

As if some invisible thread had been severed for good this time. Not with cruelty, just finality.

There had been a time when that news would have undone him, back when he still believed that love was something that could be negotiated. That if he loved someone enough, he could close the gap between what he needed and what they couldn’t give.

But that kind of love had cost him, so much of his time, so much of himself, quietly, over time; In the erosion of small hopes, in the pain of waiting.

He’d stopped waiting the day he let her go. But he hadn’t realized, until now, how much of the past he still carried. It was strange. How this moment, this news, was what finally made him put it down.

Because now there was Claire. Not as a replacement, not as a correction, just her.

Complex, brilliant, infuriating sometimes, honest in a way that stripped him bare. She hadn’t promised him anything and she hadn’t needed to.

What existed between them wasn’t built on old dreams, it was unfinished. He didn’t know what the future looked like with her. But for the first time in years, it didn’t feel shaped by absence, by the future he might never have. It wasn’t about what he’d lost, or what didn’t happen. It was about what was.

 

Jessica’s pregnancy wasn’t a betrayal, it was a turning point. One he hadn’t asked for, but maybe needed. It let him see, with more clarity than he expected, that he’d spent years defining his life by someone else's limits.

So, as he sat across from Jessica, who was still looking at him as if she suspected he was going to freak out, despair, or guilt her, something inside him tightened that had nothing to do with pain anymore.

 

"And the father?" he asked, now with a small but genuine smile on his lips. Jessica held his gaze for a moment before smiling as well.

 

"He's a workaholic, just like me." She tilted her head, a frown appearing between her eyebrows that only showed when she was concentrating hard. "Just like you," she added, and Neil shook his head with a slight snort, even when he felt the small sting that her words caused in him. "Maybe that's why it scared me so much at first. Because I thought it was karma punishing me for how I handled things back then." Neil's features softened, and this time it was him who reached for her hand.

 

"Jess," he began, but she interrupted him with a brief raising of her hand.

 

"It's okay. We’ve discussed it at length, and though the situation is far from perfect, we’re determined to make it work. He believes in me as a mother, so maybe someday I can, too." Neil's smile softened a little.

 

"You'll be a great mother, Jess. I knew that then, and I know it even more now." She smiled, tears welling in her eyes, which she dismissed with an uncertain smile.

 

They spent a little over another hour together in the café, mostly avoiding the subject, not because they needed to, but because it didn't feel right to dwell on it any longer than necessary.

They weren't the same people they'd been back then, and he was no longer a part of her life. There had once been this perfect idea of his life, which she was now living with someone who wasn't him, and a small part of him, buried beneath everything that had happened in the last few years, would probably always remember how paradox it seemed.

But Neil didn't want that life anymore either, at least not with her. Maybe there was something beautiful about it all happening, that she had met this person with whom she saw a future; maybe fate sometimes had to take a few detours before it led to the right person.

 

"Do me a favor and look after Aaron a little," she mumbled as she hugged him goodbye. This time, too, she didn't let go immediately, as if it felt like a goodbye and a new beginning for her, too. "He doesn't look well." Her voice was concerned, and Neil furrowed his eyebrows, but gently stroked her back.

 

"I will, Jess. I promise." She nodded and pulled away, but didn't back away. Instead, she held his gaze, a smile on her lips, a twinkle in her eyes, and placed her hand caringly on his cheek.

 

"Don't let her break your heart, Neil." He had heard the undertone in her voice, but decided not to dwell on it.

She hadn't owed him an account, and he hadn't owed her either. And just as he knew little about Jessica's life and her relationship, she knew just as little about his.

It would have been so easy to erase her worries and concerns if Claire had been there; she wouldn't have even had to say much, and everything would have been explained automatically. But since she wasn't, Neil resigned himself to the fact that Jessica might not have been hundred percent happy with his decisions, because ultimately, it had no impact on his relationship with Claire.

 

Neil stayed at the café a little longer, simply to collect his thoughts. The conversation had once again gone completely differently than he had expected, and it would certainly keep him busy for quite some time. But it had felt good to tell her about Claire and, despite her disapproval, to feel no different towards her.

He was sure Jessica was right, and that it would still be better to bring the matter up with HR soon. After all, they were now certain that this was something serious between them and that they wanted to work together to ensure that it had a future.

Perhaps Claire's opinion had changed as well, and perhaps he could simply bring it up with her again when he found the right moment. The right moment, however, wasn't when she found out what Jessica had told him. Generally, he had no idea what she would think if she found out. Surely she'd wonder what he felt, and he wasn't entirely sure yet.

He probably needed to let it all sink in before he threw all his confused thoughts at Claire. The last thing he wanted was for her to doubt his intentions.

So he drove to the only person he wanted to talk to at that moment, the only person who would understand him without judging him.

Still, Neil felt a little foolish knocking on the door, not knowing what he could say without crossing the line Claire had set for him. The next moment, the door opened, and he'd have to wait and see how things played out.

 

"Who are you?"

 

---

 

Notes:

Ha.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I do have a fair warning to make; the next chapters will be heavy in some regards, so ... yeah.
I try to blend in some fun moments all the time, just to get through it, but huh. We need Drama, right? 🥲

So yeah. Claire stressing over a hickey ... I mean, just a problem when you are hiding your boss-boyfriend, right? Funny to see how Neil will react to this news.
🫢
Obviously he has to work out the new information he just got first. Some of you (Hi, Sarah) had guessed Jessicas Storyline already, which was fun. Obviouly it's alot to unpack for Neil, I mean ... girl, come one, you could've had a babydaddy like that and chose not to? Your loss.
🤐
While I'll do think it's weird for him, I think Neil can be happy for her. We'll see how this will turn out.
Please let me know your thoughts on this storyline as well. As I said - Drama, Drama, Drama.
And Morgan ... does she know something or is she blinded by her own storyline? She does have the newest tea, Claire will love that for her 🥸

On a side note; we will post the next chapter for the one shot series next monday - so, happy weekend to you all!

Anyway, thanks for your love and comments as always. 🥰

Chapter 21: If the world was ending you'd come over, right?

 

---

 

"Uhm, hello. Who are you?"

The woman turned her head as she studied Neil, and for a moment she remained silent, but before he had to repeat his question, she smiled slightly.

 

"Would you like to see Mr. Glassman?" Neil raised an eyebrow and hesitated, but managed a quick nod.

The woman stepped aside and gestured invitingly into the house, which Neil hesitantly complied with. She didn't wait for him, but walked straight into the living room, so he decided to follow her, shoes and jacket aside.

 

"Shaun?" Neil noticed him at the dining table, a thick book spread out before him. Shaun raised his head for only a brief moment.

 

"Hello," was all he said before looking away again.

Neil was fairly certain he'd seen Shaun at the hospital that morning, which was why he'd been a little irritated to find him there now, but perhaps the guilty part of him was glad that at least someone was coming to see Glassman.

Neil had last seen him at the charity event, and had only visited him once before at his apartment. He didn't want to fool himself; he didn't have the time to visit him more often, at least not with his priorities set. He didn't even have as much time for Gaby as he would have liked, but that didn't change the fact that that feeling of guilt had spread through his chest again when he had to promise Jessica he'd look after Aaron.

Because that was exactly what he hadn't done so far, even though he'd also noticed that he hadn't looked particularly healthy.

 

"Well, look at that," Glassman said, and Neil turned when he heard the voice behind him. Aaron had raised his eyebrow, and his gaze was a little cooler than Neil was used to.

 

"Hey, Aaron. How are you?" Aaron held his gaze longer than necessary before shaking his head and walking past Neil with a soft snort, sitting across from Shaun at the dining table.

 

"Interesting timing for your visit," he simply said, and Neil raised his eyebrow.

The tone of his voice was almost dismissive, his gaze almost nonexistent. Neil let his gaze wander, worried that he had indeed arrived at a bad time. The TV was muted in the background, a chess game was in progress on the coffee table, and the curtains were almost all drawn.

 

"Tough day?" Aaron shrugged after a brief hesitation.

 

"No harder than most," Neil nodded hesitantly, every part of his body tense.

He wasn't sure what exactly he had expected when he had decided to visit Aaron, probably the usual - his friendly, fatherly advice, which had so often gotten him out of the most difficult situations. Maybe just a little small talk, something.

But he hadn't anticipated finding Glassman like this, and he couldn't help wondering if he didn't know something he should've known or if Aaron perhaps knew too much. Neil cleared his throat to get rid of the lump in his throat.

 

"I wanted to talk to you." His gaze flicked to Shaun, who was still engrossed in his book. "There are a few things on my mind. And you've always helped me put things into perspective," he admitted, no longer pretending he was there solely to check on him, even though that was part of it.

Aaron seemed tense, and Neil hoped he could soften him a little by showing him he was needed. But Aaron's expression didn't change.

 

"Perspective is overrated," Neil blinked slowly, not sure how to respond.

 

"I don't think so. I always appreciate your advice," he tried again, and Glassman leaned back in his chair, the fingers of his right hand drumming on the table in front of him, his head tilted.

 

"So what? You're here for advice?" Neil gritted his teeth.

Aaron wasn't a resentful person, and even though they were close, Neil hadn't suspected that Aaron would particularly value his visit and resent him if he couldn't make it every other day. But he couldn't explain this change in mood any other way.

 

"No, I'm here because I thought we were friends," Glassman glanced at him, really looked, for the first time since Neil arrived, but his gaze wasn't warm. It was calculating, like he was measuring whether Neil was worth the effort.

 

"We are," he finally said, curtly and not particularly convincingly. Neil hesitated for a moment before sighing.

 

"Then why are you acting like this? I wanted to check on you, I …" Aaron raised an eyebrow.

 

"Did you?" Neil's mouth opened, but immediately closed again before a word could leave his throat. His gaze flickered over Glassman's face, analyzing every expression, but he didn't let anyone see behind his facade. Neil furrowed his eyebrows.

 

"I beg your pardon?" Aaron shrugged again, as if trying to shake Neil off, his expression even colder than before.

 

"You said it yourself, you're here for advice. You always come when something is wrong in your world, always when you need something." Neil pressed his lips together to suppress a frustrated groan and ran his hand over his chin.

While that wasn't untrue, he always thought that this was the kind of friendship they had. Aaron certainly didn't ask for his advice as often, but when he did, Neil was always there for him.

 

"Is that what this is all about? That I'm only coming to see you now? Last time I saw you, you said you were happy if everyone would leave you alone for a bit." Aaron shook his head, but looked away for a brief moment, as if he didn't want to ask himself that question.

 

"This isn't about anything," he muttered, "You're the one who knocked at the door." Neil gritted his teeth and toyed with the idea of just turning around and leave. The last thing he wanted was to burden Aaron or cause him more stress than he already had.

 

"Statistically speaking, people tend to seek out those who made them feel safe when they're emotionally dysregulated. It's not opportunistic. It's normal," Shaun interjected suddenly, without raising his gaze.

Neil's gaze landed on him, a little questioning.

Shaun had a habit of being so quiet that he was barely noticeable and easily forgotten. Neil wouldn't have guessed he'd even listened to a word they were saying.

Aaron's gaze landed on Shaun, too, and for a heartbeat, an emotion flashed in his eyes that was warmer than anything he'd shown in the last few minutes.

 

"Didn't expect you to listen," Neil said, filling the silence. Shaun tilted his head, his gaze falling in Neil's direction.

 

"You're talking loudly, and this is a small room. I had no other choice than to listen." Neil nodded slowly. Aaron let out a noise that was almost a laugh, but ended in a single breath.

 

"Wow, so now everyone's an expert," he said dismissively, and Shaun looked directly at him, scrutinizing him.

 

"No, you're angry," he stated casually, and Neil raised an eyebrow, not because he was surprised, but because he hadn't expected Shaun to notice. "You've been all along." Neil tilted his head, and the feeling of despair, perhaps even anger, that had been raging inside him a moment ago was replaced by concern.

It hadn't seemed to him that anything other than his occasional bitterness was raging inside Aaron, but if Shaun not only noticed it himself but also addressed it, then it must’ve meant something.

 

"Aaron ... what's wrong?" he asked, his voice cautious but warm. Aaron's gaze flickered in his direction, just for a brief moment, before he waved his hand dismissively.

 

"Nothing's wrong. You're making problems where there aren't any." Shaun stood up and shook his head.

 

"You're lying," he accused, his voice more emotional than Neil was used to from Shaun. "Not pathological, but it's been happening lately." There was a silence that was anything but pleasant, and Neil searched for the right words to break it, but he didn't know if he had the right to.

Something had obviously been building up between them over the past few days, maybe weeks, that Neil hadn't known about.

Aaron shook his head before turning it in Neil's direction.

 

"Okay. You want to talk? Then talk." Before he could answer, Aaron stood up and took a step toward him. "What is it this time, Neil, hm? Do you need my absolution for a decision you were too cowardly to make?" He took another step closer, Neil's jaw tensing as the blood began to boil in his veins. "Or what? Are you asking me how to win your ex-wife back?" He was close enough now that Neil could see his flared nostrils and red eyes.

 

"God, Aaron, what is -" Aaron laughed, a short laugh filled with assessment.

 

"Or do you finally want to talk about which hospital rules you've broken lately and figured, Hey, he'll understand, and if not, who cares? He's not working anymore anyway."

Neil opened his mouth to say something, but his heart was pounding at the end of his throat and he clenched his teeth to force himself to breathe.

Aaron's anger was obvious, but Neil wasn't sure how much knowledge had gone into his hate speech.

 

"That's enough, Aaron! Talk to me!" Aaron pressed his lips tightly together, presumably to stop himself from saying anything more he would ultimately regret.

His nostrils flared again as he took a deep breath and shook his head. His eyes met Neil's for a second before he turned around.

 

"Shaun, leave us alone,“ Shaun gave him a long look, but Glassman's expression left no room for argument, so he grabbed his things and left, not looking back even when Neil bid him farewell.

Once he was gone, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the wall clock and Aaron's soft sigh.

Neil hesitated for a moment before taking a step toward him.

 

"What's wrong, Aaron? Is it your arm, are you in pain?" He shook his head, but walked across the living room without saying a word.

"Who is the woman who opened the door for me?" Neil watched as Glassman slumped onto his couch, his shoulders falling in, his gaze fixed stubbornly forward.

Something in his demeanor had changed, softened, and Neil approached him without another word, sat down next to him, and watched him until his gaze landed on him.

 

"The woman is a caregiver I hired. She helps me with chores, goes shopping for me, and keeps me from doing stupid things." Neil furrowed his brows, his heart pounding in his throat, his hands growing clammy.

 

"Are you in pain? Is there anything I can do to help you?" Aaron was silent for a moment, his gaze forward, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in an attempt to maintain control.

 

"It's back," he whispered, and the words hung immediately in the air between them, heavy, almost suffocating. Neil frowned as Aaron just shook his head. "I blamed it on that damn earthquake. Maybe something was missed, maybe it's just the stress. God, maybe I'm just old." Neil gave him a moment, but the way Aaron's expression darkened made his stomach clench.

His mouth was dry and his mind was racing, but the words sank in slowly, like little daggers in his skin.

 

"How bad?" was all he managed, and the silence that followed was stifling, cold in a way.

The nausea spread through Neil even before Aaron had answered. But the way he looked at him then made any other words feel late and pointless.

 

"It's a glioblastoma. Same spot, but this time it's infiltrated deep into the corpus callosum and the brainstem. Multifocal. No surgical margins left to cut. No radiation field left to spare." He laughed a short, dark laugh before reaching under the coffee table and pulling out a medical file, pressing it into Neil's hand.

Neil didn't grab it right away, staring from the file to Aaron and back again.

Something in his brain seemed to have stopped working; the words Aaron had said didn't seem to make sense. His throat had tightened, as if his body were shutting down to protect him from the weight of the words.

 

"Since when do you know?" he asked when he finally reached for the file, his movements jerky and a little too slow.

When he opened the file, the CT images leaped out at him, and when he finally remembered to breathe, the breath came trembling from his nose.

 

"Lim asked me at the event if I was willing to come back, at least part-time." There was a brief pause, which he tried to cover with a snort. "I already knew something was wrong. I just didn't want to admit it to myself." Neil couldn't tear his gaze away from the images, but his fingers tightened around the file more than necessary.

"The scans are from last week." Neil's finger stroked the discoloration on the CT scan as if it were just another illustration in the textbook.

His lips opened and closed before he could say anything. He shook his head.

 

"So?" He wasn't able to say anything else, and Aaron was already nodding slowly before shrugging.

 

"Even if I threw the book at it, resection, chemo, experimental trials ... best case is ... a few miserable months with steroids, seizures, and no short-term memory, probably." Neil swallowed hard to suppress the nausea rising within him.

It was a strange feeling; he'd never seen a loved one fall ill before.

There had been patients he'd grown fond of, whose deaths had broken him.

After her accident, his sister had been someone else, but this was something completely different.

 

An illness like this was merciless; Neil had seen it so many times before, and then only from the spectator's perspective; how it had torn families apart, how the sick had suffered.

Last time, Aaron had been lucky; it hadn't completely destroyed him, but as he looked at these images now and heard the final note in Aaron's voice, it was as if the story had already been written.

He raised his gaze and finally looked at Aaron; he seemed almost indifferent, except for the shadow in his eyes.

 

"What about a second opinion? You can't settle for that." A hint of a smile appeared on Aaron's face, though it seemed more sympathetic than warm.

 

"They'll all tell me the damn exact same thing." He hesitated for a brief moment before pulling the files from Neil's hands. "I met with Richard earlier this week." Neil paused, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

 

"And?" Aaron shrugged, threw the file down on the table, and rested his arms on his knees. His breathing became labored, the only sign that he wasn't unfazed.

 

"He told me exactly the same thing. A little nicer, but essentially the same thing." Neil slumped back onto the couch, exhaling heavily, and ran both hands over his face.

 

"Don't listen to him, Lane is ..." His words trailed off as he looked into Aaron's almost amused face.

 

"One of the best in his field? Right." Neil's jaw clenched.

He knew Aaron was right. Lane may have been an idiot, but everything he'd accomplished in the past few years spoke in his favor and his abilities.

"Listen, Neil. I know how this ends. And I know it will happen very soon. It is ... what it is."

For a while, they allowed the silence to fall over them, even though it was uncomfortable, not because there was anything left to say, but because there was nothing left to say.

The image of the tumor, sharp and hot, kept appearing in Neil's mind, and he blinked repeatedly to clear it.

 

"What about Shaun?" he asked after a few moments, and Glassman just sighed quietly, his brow furrowed. When he shrugged, Neil tilted his head. "Are you going to tell him?"

There was another pause, then he turned to Neil. His eyes were glassy, but Neil could see the warmth in them that he always showed when it came to Shaun.

 

"Not yet," Neil clenched his teeth, his hands curled into fists, as if trying to grasp something that wouldn't be grasped.

Aaron gave him a quick glance and snorted a half-hearted laugh before looking away again.

"You don't have to look at me like that, I know how that sounds." Neil also leaned back on his knees, searching Glassman's gaze.

 

"Do you?" Aaron shook his head.

 

"If he finds out now, he'll spiral. He'll build a new surgery in his mind. Try to fix me like I'm one of his puzzles. I don't want that, there is no fixing left to do."

When their eyes met, Neil swallowed all the words that had been on the tip of his tongue.

Because he recognized that look in Aaron's eyes, the way his jaw clenched and his face held almost no emotion. Not because he didn't feel, but because he didn't want to show it.

Not to him, and even less to Shaun. A kind of loneliness hidden behind the facade of control that Neil himself knew only too well.

 

Neil nodded curtly, his thoughts torn in two.

He knew where Aaron was going with this, and even if he had disagreed, he couldn't say he wouldn't have acted the same way if he were in his position. Because the truth was, he already had.

During the earthquake, he had kept his pain to himself, not wanting to show his fear to Audrey or Claire. Surely it had been a form of self-protection, but he knew how it felt to hide his own suffering, not despite love, but precisely because of it.

He had known what he would do to others if he wasn't well; he had seen it himself so many times, and Aaron probably felt the same way in his current situation.

Before Neil sat a man determined to protect the people he loved, even if it meant pushing them away, and the mere sight of that brought a lump to Neil's throat.

It was lonely, always having to be the strong one in the room, but after the time he'd spent with Claire, noticing how she'd thawed around him, how much he himself had grown in her presence, he almost regretted not having shown her from the beginning how much concern he'd felt, even if it would have frightened her.

 

"So you don't want to keep fighting, but you also don't want to tell him that ... your situation is getting worse?" Aaron sighed and shook his head, almost annoyed.

 

"It's not like that. You don't know what he's like, he ...," Neil breathed a sarcastic laugh, his eyebrows furrowed.

 

"Don't I? I've watched Shaun fall apart over less. He needs time to prepare ... to grieve in his own way, not just after." Aaron hesitated for a moment, his fingers nervously rubbing his other hand, his gaze shifting restlessly around the room.

 

"If I tell him now, his whole world will revolve around this. He won't sleep, eat, or work until he's got this whole thing back on track." He swallowed hard. "I can't do this anymore, not knowing how this will end." Neil sensed Aaron's frustration, heard just in the tone of his voice how long he'd been thinking about this.

Part of him didn't want to contradict him - he knew Shaun better than anyone and should know best what was right for him.

But maybe he was too close to realize he was walking toward a precipice.

 

"He already senses something's wrong. You saw him, he knows you're hiding something. How long will this last? How long until he finds out?" Aaron stood abruptly and began pacing around the room, his hands tightly at his sides, every muscle in his body tense. Neil interlaced his fingers and shook his head.

“No one ever really thanks you for sparing them. They just end up angry that you didn’t let them in.” Aaron stopped, his gaze boring into Neil’s skin, cold and piercing. The muscle under his eye twitched as he took a step toward him.

 

"Shaun doesn't get angry, don't you understand? He breaks down, he can't handle this. I can't be the reason he ..." Neil now also stood up under Glassman's warning glare. The air between them grew tight, but Neil sighed to calm himself.

 

"I understand, Aaron, I do. But things like this will happen again. And it's time you trust Shaun more than that. You can't protect him from what's about to happen by keeping quiet." Aaron pressed his lips together, but his gaze wavered slightly, as if considering this thought, then the next moment he straightened slightly, his chin jutting up.

 

"That's not your decision to make," Neil ran a hand over his face before shaking his head in frustration.

 

"No, it's not," he agreed, and could see Aaron's features relax, even if only a little bit. "I'm just giving you my opinion; ultimately, it’s your decision. But I'm your friend, Aaron. I only want the best for you." Aaron nodded slowly, but his face showed the strength it had taken him to open up. With a heavy sigh, he slumped back onto the couch, took off his glasses, and wiped his eyes.

Neil had rarely felt as powerless as he did in that moment.

He wanted to help Aaron, give him good advice, be there for him, but every word that came to mind seemed pointless the next moment.

"Can I do anything for you?" he asked after a moment of silence, and Aaron raised his gaze, albeit reluctantly.

 

"I just want you to give me time, for now." Neil nodded immediately, even though everything inside him was tightening.

It wasn't his place to make decisions for Aaron, whether it concerned the treatment of his illness or how he wanted to handle his passing. But the thought of leaving Shaun in the dark felt too heavy to bear.

"I don't want you to talk to anyone about this," Neil's teeth clenched, but he agreed without argument, even though he'd already planned to visit Lane to hear his assessment of Glassman's condition.

 

"I won't," he promised, and Aaron held his gaze a little longer than necessary. His eyebrows furrowed, as if carefully considering his next words, then the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

 

"You know how close Claire and Shaun are," Aaron began again, and Neil's heart skipped a beat before the words had even sunk in. His eyebrow raised skeptically, and he kept his mouth closed, not trusting his own words.

“That means she can’t know either,” Glassman added with a little more emphasis.

 

"Why would I tell her?" Neil asked as casually as possible.

There was a brief pause, during which Aaron's gaze softened slightly before he pressed his lips together. He could have just as easily said nothing, and Neil would have still gotten the message.

 

"Please, I may be old and I may be dying, but I'm far from blind." Neil's words died on his tongue, his mouth opening reflexively as he shook his head.

His first thought went to Jessica, because as far as he knew, she was the only one who knew about Claire. But she had only known about her for a few hours, and Neil doubted her first reaction would have been to run to Aaron and talk to him about it.

His second thought went to all the possible things he could have said to deny it, to somehow save his skin, but a long look into Aaron's eyes told him it was useless.

 

"How do you know?" he asked, almost a little intimidated.

Aaron was now the second person to know about them, and the circle slowly grew larger. There was probably no way around admitting to Claire that he hadn't kept the secret as well as he'd agreed.

Aaron shrugged, but a brief smile flitted across his lips.

 

"Do you know how long I was tied to that hospital bed?" Neil pressed his lips together, but felt his muscles relax a little when he noticed the warm undertone in Aaron's voice. "Believe me, you don‘t miss a thing in a situation like this."

Neil laughed a light-hearted laugh, but then ran his hand over his face. A heavy sigh escaped him, and he shook his head to clear his thoughts.

 

"I don't know what to say," he admitted, noticing Aaron's brief nod in the corner of his eye. "I tried to avoid it, but ..." He shrugged, finally looking up and meeting Aaron's eyes. "At some point, that didn’t work anymore." A sound, almost a laugh, found its way out from deep in his chest, but the tension in his body had already returned as Aaron narrowed his eyes slightly.

 

"You know it would be best to go to HR before someone else does and makes the decision for you," Neil exhaled heavily, but nodded curtly. "Especially since there's already been a complaint about you two. You know how that looks." Neil rubbed the bridge of his nose.

 

"But there was nothing to it, that was something else." Aaron's features softened slightly, even though his gaze bored into Neil.

 

"Was it, tho?" Neil knew that, given the facts, there was probably a good reason for the complaint. Even if he hadn't crossed any official lines, he had been already well on his way emotionally.

"Look, Neil. I'm not the only one in the hospital with eyes and a brain. You went through the exact same thing with Lim. Aren't you learning anything?" Neil wrinkled his nose, but hesitated for a moment before answering.

The whole issue was already complicated, probably hard to comprehend for outsiders.

 

"I'm not telling her about you," he answered curtly, exhaling heavily. "But I'd like to talk to Lane about your situation again, if you don't mind." Aaron made a dismissive gesture and shrugged almost casually.

Neil watched him for a moment, his heart clenching. It was as if, now that he knew about his illness, he could see every sign of it written all over Aaron's face.

 

"Is that what you wanted my advice on? The situation with Claire?" Aaron asked, leaning back as he studied him.

Neil hesitated for a heartbeat before shaking his head. While he would have liked to talk to him about the Jessica situation, now, with all the new knowledge he had, it suddenly felt more than a little insignificant.

 

"No, it's okay. I have to go now as it is," he said, glancing at his watch. "I'll be back soon, I promise." When their eyes met, Glassman's expression cooled a little, but Neil thought he saw a hint of relief in his.

 

"Take care, boy. Think of the things you have to lose."

 

****

 

Claire checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time.

Nothing.

She tried not to let it get to her, but the uneasy feeling in her stomach was hard to ignore. She'd hoped, or even suspected, that Neil would contact her again the previous day after meeting Jessica, but he hadn't, and she didn't know how to handle it, much less what she was allowed to feel.

She had no right to be jealous; he'd been straight-talking from the start, making no secret of the fact they were seeing each other.

And really, she had nothing to be worried about; what was the worst thing that could have happened?

That they'd sat down and realized that these feelings, which they'd been sure were only friendly, were so much more than that?

That their breakup had been a mistake, and now they were running off together?

Sure, it would have hurt, but Claire had resolved to stop assuming the worst, so in the end, it was nothing more than that - two people who had once known each other, simply wanting to catch up after a long time apart. Nothing wrong with that.

 

But she hadn't been able to overcome her fear and ask him how it had been, because every single message, no matter how many times she reworked it in her head, sounded more jealous than the one before. So now she'd just had to wait until they met again and then discreetly question him.

 

"Still with me?" Lane asked, pulling her from her thoughts before she dropped her phone back into her lab coat. Claire gave him an apologetic smile and sped up to catch up with him.

"Did you have a little time to look through the documents I sent you?" Claire nodded curtly; that was the upside of not hearing from Neil all evening; she'd had the time to fully immerse herself in Lane's study.

 

"Yes, I did. It was very …" She searched briefly for the right word and felt the heat rise in her cheeks when Lane raised his eyebrow. "Impressive." The smile on Lane's face widened as their eyes met.

 

"Perfect. Any questions?" Claire tilted her head and bit the flesh of her cheek, assessing how openly she could speak with him. She hadn't forgotten his reaction to her questions in the lab yesterday.

 

"Actually, yes," Lane pressed the elevator button that took them to the research lab and gave Claire a questioning look. "You said it was about cognitive recovery, but I saw that notes about the limbic system and emotional regulation. Was that just a side note, or ...?"

Richard's lips curled into a smile, not exactly cheerful, almost cautious, Claire noticed.

He hummed an affirmative tone and turned his gaze forward as the doors closed on them.

 

"You're thorough. Most people skim past that part." Claire returned his smile cautiously, "It's not just about cognition. Emotion and thought aren't exactly separate, right? So yes ... we're testing it for emotional regulation too. Especially in cases where therapy alone hasn't worked." Claire was silent for a moment, the stabbing pain that made her stomach clench making her swallow hard.

 

During her time in college, she had often studied alternative treatments for physical illnesses, even writing a study on the subject, hoping there might‘ve been a way to make the lives of those affected easier - her mother herself had barely responded to medication, at least not enough to save her.

 

"And how do you even test something like that? Emotional regulation isn't exactly ... measurable, is it?" Lane frowned, but when their eyes met, his eyes radiated warmth.

 

"No, but you can observe neural activity in emotion-processing centers; the amygdala, hippocampus, ventromedial prefrontal cortex. And you track behavioral patterns over time; impulsivity, mood swings, reactivity." Claire wrinkled her nose and nodded in agreement.

 

"And how do patients respond? I mean ... does it change how they feel? Or just how they react?" Lane shrugged.

 

"Both, ideally. The goal isn't to suppress emotion, but to give the patient more control over how they experience and respond to it." The door opened in front of them, and Claire followed him quickly. He glanced back. "You can see for yourself." Claire tilted her head, but Lane just nodded toward the lab, where she saw Morgan already standing, engrossed in a file. "Reznick. You're early." Morgan only raised her eyes when addressed.

 

"Never been gone," she corrected, eliciting a chuckle from Lane before he walked past them, gesturing for them to follow.

 

The research lab was already equipped with head scans, a recording playing on the large screen in the center.

Claire and Morgan bumped shoulders as they pushed past each other, their eyes glued to the dancing neurons and flickering lights in the brain. Lane's pride was evident in every fiber of his being as he positioned himself in front of the screen, hands on his hips.

 

"Patient Six. Twenty-eight. Diagnosed with borderline personality disorder at nineteen. Ten inpatient stays. Three suicide attempts. Six therapists. No progress." Claire tilted her head as she looked past Lane at the image, but his grin caught her eye even out of the corner of her eye. "Until now," Morgan took a step forward.

 

"So that's her amygdala?" Richard nodded, a light in his eyes that made his dark circles seem almost irrelevant.

 

"Pre-implant, her responses to emotional stimuli were chaotic; erratic surges of fear, rage, shame. Post-implant?" He pressed a small button on the screen. "Regulated. Controlled. Herself." Claire pressed her lips together as she watched the small implant now displayed on the screen.

 

"You're saying you're treating personality disorders with ... a neural implant?" Morgan asked, her voice almost impressed, if still incredulous.

Claire watched Lane's reaction closely - the way his brow wrinkled and his jaw seemed to tense.

 

"I'm not treating personality. I'm treating dysfunction, the circuitry is faulty; overactive limbic response, poor prefrontal control. We fixed the wiring." Morgan nodded, her gaze flickering from his face back to the screen, her finger scrolling through the images to closely examine the change.

"She hasn't self-harmed in sixty days. She sleeps, she eats. She called her father for the first time in two years and didn't hang up mid-sentence." Claire crossed her arms and pressed her lips together. "This could be the breakthrough. I'm on to something big here. And I want you to share it with me." Morgan's smile widened as they looked at each other, but when Lane's gaze fell on Claire, his eyes darkened slightly.

"What is it, Browne? Not convinced yet?" he asked with a hint of a laugh, but it seemed more uncertain than happy. Claire shrugged and shook her head.

 

"No, no, this ... is great," Lane nodded and smiled before turning back to the screen. "Where's the catch?" she asked, a little colder than she intended, immediately drawing his attention back to her.

 

"What?" Claire grimaced and shoved her hands into the pockets of her lab coat.

 

"I don't know. The implant is showing great success, as you say. But I wonder what else it mutes. How does the implant distinguish which emotion it should mute and which it shouldn't? Or to what extent?" Lane turned to her, his eyebrow slightly raised, his lips dry.

 

"What are you asking, Browne? Can I cure them of their pain? I can," Claire shook her head.

 

"That's not what I'm asking. I'm wondering how much of their emotions are taken away from the patients. Can they still cry with the implant? Get angry? Can they still feel euphoria?" Lane pressed his lips together, a brief smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

 

"You're asking the wrong questions. You're clinging to suffering as proof of humanity. I'm giving her freedom from that. I'm giving her her life back, her parents get their daughter back." Morgan's gaze flickered between the two before clearing her throat and standing tall.

 

"I think Claire's wondering what happens if the device adapts more than you programmed it for. Or excludes an emotion they might need later." Claire raised her eyebrow as her gaze landed on Lane again.

 

"You treat people who've lived in emotional agony for years. Don't pretend you wouldn't kill to end it. I just found the way." Claire sighed and laughed a suspicious laugh before she could stop herself. She felt Lane's gaze on her, but turned her gaze back to the patient's screen.

 

"This is nothing new. We used to call it a lobotomy. Back when people didn't understand emotion, they just drilled into it and numbed it out. Said they were curing women of hysteria, men of rage. What you're doing, it's the same thing. Control the outbursts, kill the noise. Make people easier to live with." Lane's face reflected an emotion Claire couldn't interpret, probably because he hid it too quickly.

But she could still see it, in the way the muscles in his face twitched and the pulse pounding in his neck.

 

"This is science. It's data-driven, targeted, humane." Claire pressed her lips together, perhaps in an attempt to swallow her hesitation before she said something she would regret.

Or maybe just because of the anger rising within her.

 

"So was the lobotomy, in its time. They thought they were saving lives, too." Lane wiggled at the end of his tie, almost a little cornered, but it only lasted a few seconds before his face recovered and his confident smile returned.

 

"You saw what that patient's brain looked like before. She was lost, gone for everyone. No meds were helping her, no therapy. This isn't guesswork, it's restoration." Claire caught Morgan's eye, but before she could read anything in it, she shook her head.

 

"You think she's restored because she's quiet, because she doesn't scream anymore. But maybe the screaming was the only part of her still trying to live." A silence followed, in which Richard's eyes flickered over her face almost in disbelief, as if he needed a little time to process what she had said. As if he hadn't expected someone to oppose him like that.

 

"You don't understand. This isn't about silence, it's about survival. The brain doesn't need to suffer to be alive." Claire shrugged her shoulders.

 

"But sometimes, it does." Lane turned to the screen, his brows furrowed, as if he were analyzing the data behind it himself again.

A heavy breath escaped his lips, and when he turned back to Claire, his gaze was colder than before, but there was an emotion in his eyes that was almost sadness.

 

"Do you know what it's like to love someone you can't reach?" he asked quietly, and Claire's stomach clenched involuntarily. "To watch them drown in themselves and know you're not enough to pull them out?" Claire remained silent.

Her gaze flickered to Morgan, who was already looking at her expectantly, but she said nothing else.

"I want to destroy it before it destroys people. So that no one has to go through the process of watching a person fade away inside their own pain." Claire's thumb scratched at her cuticles, and she exhaled deeply before answering.

 

"I want that, too. I just don't think it's possible. At least not like that." This earned Lane a slight chuckle, his features softening, and he nodded slowly.

 

"Then you will help me prove you wrong."

 

The three of them spent the next hour in the testing lab, immersed in Lane's previous research.

Claire had to admit that it had been impressive, innovative, and, especially in the area of Alzheimer's patients, had already shown the first promising results. Claire was aware that the mind and the body couldn't be separated, even when it came to treating disease.

Yet a part of her refused to believe it could actually work. Perhaps that was her fear speaking, her worry about what it would mean if it did.

 

Because what Lane had built, terrifying and invasive as it was, promised something she’d never dared to want - relief.

Not for her patients, but for herself. For the child version of her, lying awake in bed at night, listening for the soft click of the medicine cabinet, praying her mother wouldn’t forget the dosage, or forget her entirely.

What if that little girl could’ve had a mother who smiled in the morning? Who stayed level? Who didn’t fall into silence for days, or explode over spilled juice, or scream at the walls for reasons Claire never understood?

What if the device really worked?

What if Lane had found the thing no one else could - the off switch to the spiral, the code to lock the door before the storm got in?

What would it mean for patients if this part of them could be switched off? How much of them would be left if they were taken away from what had tormented them their entire lives?

This question had become embedded in her brain as soon as she saw the recording of the functioning brain, reacting with the implant. Because Claire knew something that Lane didn't know, or didn't want to admit.

The spiral didn't just take, it gave.

It gave her Breeze. The same mind that couldn't sleep, that shattered under the weight of grief or joy, it was also the one that sang to her, wrote poetry in the margins of old newspapers, danced barefoot in the kitchen during manic highs that felt like a safe place she never dared to dream of.

Her mother's pain wasn't separate from her light, it was part of it.

Would this device have taken both? Would it have left behind a calmer woman, or a stranger?

Medication could alleviate symptoms, at least to a certain extent, at least for a certain time. They never took away everything that made a person who they were. And yet, they hadn't been able to save her mother; perhaps this prototype could have.

Surely she would have given anything to conjure up just such a magic potion, but it couldn't really have been that easy. Or could it?

 

"You were throwing a lot of punches in there," Morgan began as they returned to the Residents' Lounge, her voice almost impressed. Claire gave a short snort of laughter.

 

"I asked questions," she defended, catching her eye, "which, as you may have noticed, he didn't have the answers to." Morgan shrugged, her gaze already focused on her phone, which she was using to continue reading up on Lane's published articles.

 

"He had a lot of answers," Claire rolled her eyes and shoved her hands into her lab coat.

 

"Not the right ones, though." Morgan sighed and tucked her phone into her pocket before shaking her head.

 

"Look, I'm on your side on this. I think what he's planning is reckless," Claire nodded contentedly.

 

"Thank you," Morgan wrinkled her nose.

 

"But also brilliant," Claire sighed, but Morgan wasn't deterred. Her face still reflected the same curiosity as it had in the test lab. "His prototype is impressive and should be tested everywhere possible," Claire grumbled reluctantly, shrugging to close the subject.

 

"You're right, but I still think he should have simple answers to simple questions. And he doesn't seem to," Morgan raised an eyebrow and sighed softly.

 

"And maybe you don't have an unbiased view of the matter. Again." Claire pressed her lips together and suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

While she was certainly never able to view this topic with complete neutrality, she was growing fed up with her judgment being questioned every time a case took on a personal dimension.

 

"That's not the point. I just want to know what I'm getting myself into when I participate in research. Since when is it wrong to ask questions?" Morgan opened the door to the Residents' Lounge, and when she turned back to her, her smile was warmer.

 

"It isn't. It's just that you're asking the wrong ones. At least now, when he's just offered us the opportunity to participate in his research," she sighed quietly. "There are only a few weeks left until the end of our residency. That we've received such an offer now is more than just a stroke of luck; we should be grateful."

With these words, she turned and walked to the table where she had left her paperwork.

Claire followed her reluctantly, but had to admit that Morgan had a point.

The last thing she wanted was to go against Lane if he made her such an offer. He had offered her the opportunity to meet patient six the next day and see the situation for herself. Maybe that would change her mind.

 

Claire raised an eyebrow as she watched Morgan stare out onto the balcony as inconspicuously as possible, careful to make it look casual. But as soon as Claire followed her gaze, she exhaled deeply, her features softening.

Alex was standing on the balcony, clearly engrossed in a deep conversation with Neil.

She was glad to see Neil, as she felt like they'd been passing each other by all day, though she had a sneaky suspicion that Morgan's attention was more focused on Alex. She cleared her throat.

 

"I'm meeting Lea for karaoke tonight," she began, but Morgan still didn't look up. "I mean, Lea and Shaun. Glassman, probably, too." Still no reaction.

Claire took a step toward her, sincerely hoping that she was acting less conspicuously with Neil than what Morgan was doing.

"Would you like to come along?" Only then did she look up, almost seeming a little caught out, and tried to cover it up by pushing her hair back from her face.

 

"Oh, that's nice. But I want to read up on Lane's studies a bit tonight." Claire nodded cautiously, her gaze flickered to Alex, and she wrinkled her nose.

 

"We could do that together, too. Prepare together and all that," Morgan breathed a short laugh and shook her head.

 

"At a karaoke bar? I don't think so." At that moment, the door opened and Alex walked in, smiling broadly. But his smile faded slightly when he saw the two of them.

 

"Oh, hey," Claire raised a hand in greeting, but her gaze landed on Morgan, who left the room with a mumbled goodbye.

Alex watched her, probably a little longer than appropriate, before his gaze fell back on Claire, who had raised her eyebrow skeptically.

 

"Alex?" she greeted him challengingly, watching the muscles in his face tense slightly before he tilted his head.

 

"Claire?" He pushed past her and reached for his bag, which he had set down on one of the chairs. When he turned back to her, he almost chuckled. "What?" Claire shrugged. "Let me guess. You're still worried about me." Claire made a quick face before nodding.

 

"I'm just noticing," she registered every single movement on his face as the words sank in. His lips parted just the tiniest bit, his eyes widening for a split second before he regained control.

 

"So do I." They held their gazes, but neither said anything, the silence between them charged with all the things already on their tongues.

Claire was the first to break under the pressure and looked away.

 

"So, any special plans for tonight?" Alex's face relaxed slightly as he slung his bag over his shoulder, a small smile creeping onto his lips.

 

"I'm seeing Stacy tonight. Not that it's any of your business," Claire hesitated for a brief moment before giving him a warm smile.

 

"That's good for you," Alex nodded curtly before pushing past her, and she bit her lip to stop herself from speaking. But the next moment, she turned around anyway.

"Is this why you and Morgan can't talk anymore?" He froze in mid-motion before slowly turning toward her. When their eyes met, his expression was less dismissive than she had expected.

 

"What?" Claire pointed toward the door Morgan had disappeared through and tilted her head. She managed a short grumble, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"Morgan's overreacting, you know her. She's making a problem where there isn't one. And I just don't need that at the moment." Claire paused for a moment, letting the words sink in.

She didn't know if that was already a confession, but it was at least an indication that something had actually happened between them.

 

"Can I help in any way? Maybe the three of us can meet up again and talk a bit?" Alex hesitated briefly, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were actually considering the idea, but then he shook his head.

 

"Thanks, Claire," was all he said before turning around and disappearing. She watched him leave for a moment, raising her hands in irritation before sighing heavily.

It had always been relatively easy for her to talk about things with Alex, mostly because he had forced himself on her. The other way around, however, didn't seem to work so well.

Since Morgan had already rejected her help, and now Alex had too, maybe she should've just let it go; maybe it was one of those things that would resolve itself if he met someone else. Maybe it would escalate, but at least it would probably soon show where it would go.

She shook her head and turned to check on Neil, who was still standing on the balcony. His gaze was focused on the tablet in front of him, and Claire frowned.

He should have been off duty an hour ago, so a case probably kept him there. She tucked her hands into her lab coat and opened the door to see if she could help him.

Neil turned immediately when he heard the door open and smiled. Claire returned the smile, albeit a little hesitantly, as she approached. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, worry lines prominent, and glassy-eyed.

 

"Hey, you're still here?" His voice was warm and showed no sign of the image he was painting with his appearance. She snorted in amusement and took a step closer.

 

"Why? Were you hoping I wasn’t?“ Neil frowned, and as Claire approached, he closed the file he had opened on his tablet, which Claire noticed with surprise.

"Everything okay?" she asked as she stopped in front of him, and he nodded immediately, almost a little too quickly.

 

"Yes, everything's fine." His smile warmed a little as he turned his body completely toward her. Claire sighed and nodded, but narrowed her eyes as she studied him.

 

"So you're just … avoiding the consequences?" Her voice was more accusatory than she expected, and she suppressed a chuckle when she noticed his confused expression.

 

"What? What are you talking about?" Claire raised her eyebrows, leaving him to stew in silence for a moment before leaning against the railing and looking out at the city.

A theatrical sigh enhanced her performance, and even though a small part of her immediately felt guilty when she saw his concern in the corner of her eye, she tried to suppress the laughter so as not to immediately reveal her cards on the table.

"Are you okay?" he asked again as he stopped so close to her that their shoulders touched. She hummed thoughtfully.

 

"Yes, except for the fact that you might have gone a little overboard with me," she murmured, unable to stop the corner of her mouth from raising this time. She turned her head toward him, his face displaying nothing but confusion.

 

"Okay, I need straight talk," Claire was now fully smirking as she raised her hand to comb her hair away from her neck.

 

"Anything caught your eye?" Neil's eyebrows furrowed, and as if by reflex, he raised his hand and placed it on her neck.

 

"What?" His thumb gently stroked her skin, and for a heartbeat, she closed her eyes as a warm shiver spread through her body. But then she regained control, grabbed his wrist, and pushed it away.

 

"That's exactly the problem," she warned, but her voice was already as teasing as ever.

Neil was clearly lost for words, his mouth slightly open as he studied her, trying to finally make sense of her.

"Because of you, I had to walk through the hospital with a scarf. In July. It really couldn't be more conspicuous." Neil's eyebrow raised even higher, but the next moment he seemed to understand, his eyes widening slightly before his gaze immediately landed on her neck again.

 

"You're kidding," Claire shrugged, barely making any effort to act angry anymore.

 

"I wish I was," Neil hesitated for a brief moment before glancing into the lounge and then pushing her hair aside again. His finger ran along her skin as he inspected every part of her body.

 

"Where?" he murmured, but she couldn't quite interpret the sound of his voice.

He didn't seem upset, nor particularly amused. Claire rolled her eyes with a slight grin - the way he studied her was typical of his doctor persona, and in a way, she found it attractive, she couldn't deny that.

 

"Don't worry about it - there's a thick layer of makeup on it. I don't need everyone to see what I get up to at night." Neil exhaled heavily, but before the breath had completely left his lungs, his lips curled upward and he dropped his hand from her neck.

 

"Care to explain, Dr. Browne?" Claire raised her eyebrows in mock shock and rested her arms on her hips.

 

"That doesn't sound like much of an apology," Neil hesitated briefly before taking a step back to put some appropriate distance between them, just in case someone else was nearby.

 

"I didn't realize I was leaving a mark. That wasn't exactly ... intentional." Claire snorted a laugh, her head tilted skeptically to the side.

 

"Mm. See, that's funny, because it felt pretty intentional at the time." The grin he was trying to hide became a little more obvious, and he turned his face toward the city to hide the telltale glint in his eyes.

 

"Maybe I got a little ... carried away." His voice was a little deeper than before, and if Claire hadn't known better, she would have suspected he was doing it on purpose. She leaned against the railing now, too, her arms folded on the cold metal, and sighed.

Neil glanced at her quickly out of the corner of his eye.

"Would it help if I said I missed it?" Claire slowly turned her head toward him, her lips pursed to prevent herself from reacting. "Seeing it, I mean," he clarified before she could reply. Claire rolled her eyes.

 

"Shut up." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he didn't respond.

 

He probably would have laughed at her too if he'd been able to see the supposed hickey. As soon as she'd gotten home the day before, having bought new concealer, she'd taken a final look in the mirror and realized it had almost faded.

The area was certainly noticeable for any kind of redness, but if she had kept calm, she could have simply dismissed it as a scratch without the others suspecting anything.

A classic case of overreaction.

Claire sighed and watched Neil out of the corner of her eye as he gazed into the distance, his jaw tense. She tilted her head.

 

"So, how was your day yesterday?" she asked, her voice warm, if somewhat insistent.

When their eyes met, Neil's eyebrows were furrowed, but she couldn't immediately interpret the emotion reflected in his eyes. He shrugged and looked away before she could read anything in his expression.

 

"It was nice. Jessica and I had a good chat, and then I went to see Aaron." Claire hummed in agreement, but felt her muscles involuntarily tense as she noticed the tone in his voice; husky, somewhat reserved.

 

"So? How's he doing?" As soon as she asked the question, he looked back at her, this time immediately catching her gaze.

There was a shift in focus; one moment he was looking at her, the next through her, as if trapped inside something.

She caught something vanishing before he pushed his face back into a neutral expression. A puff of air left his nose, heavy and long, his hands rubbed together. But the next moment he gave her a quick smile.

 

"Jessica is pregnant." A flicker of heat rose to her face before she could stop it, followed by the dullest ache in her chest.

She nodded once, automatic, neutral, but then her mouth opened, just by reflex.

 

"What?" she managed, shaking her head in disbelief. Neil's mouth turned up slightly, a soft laugh escaping his lips.

 

"Yeah, that's pretty much how I reacted," Claire blinked rapidly, much too quickly, as if she needed to blink herself back into reality.

She'd expected a lot from this evening between Jessica and Neil, but she couldn't have expected this, not in a million years. Her mind raced as her eyes darted over Neil's face, taking in every single movement.

 

"How ..." The words trailed off her lips before she could ask the question, and Neil's warm gaze landed immediately on her. She couldn't help herself, so she reached out to place her hand on his, though she didn't know if it was to comfort him or herself.

"How are you feeling about that?“ Neil shrugged, his gaze once again distant.

 

"I'm surprised, mostly," he admitted, but his voice didn't reflect hurt or uncertainty, even if his body radiated a touch of discomfort. "It's a little strange, tho." Looking at her for a brief moment, his gaze softened, but he didn't continue.

 

"Yeah, I figured." She furrowed her eyebrows and swallowed the lump tightening in her throat.

Claire didn't know how to feel about it, or how Neil felt about it, but she couldn't suppress the oppressive feeling in her chest. She wondered if his anxious expression and the way he'd withdrawn could be explained by that, and if that was a bad thing.

Surely it had stirred many thoughts in him that he'd long since repressed; at least she knew she would feel that way in his situation. Her thumb gently stroked the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry." A smile tugged at the corners of Neil's mouth as he turned slightly toward her again.

 

"Don't be. I'm happy for her." His smile widened a little, even though Claire saw something moving behind his eyes that didn't match his expression.

"Her life has changed a lot. The way she talked about it ..." Their eyes met again, and he shook his head, almost as if trying to shake off the thought.

"Life is strange sometimes," Claire breathed a quick smile and nodded slowly.

 

"Yes, it is."

Claire considered how best to handle this, especially with all the thoughts racing through her own mind. But then she leaned back just slightly, one eyebrow arched, her smile smug and barely contained.

"Well, I'm afraid this is going to cause a lot of drama in the near future," Neil frowned cautiously, though obviously somewhat amused by the way she was looking at him.

 

"Hmm, and why?" Claire shrugged, delaying the answer a little, only long enough to see the slight tug at the corners of his mouth.

 

"Rumor has it that you and Jessica are back together." The smile vanished from Neil's face, his brow furrowed, but before he could react, Claire hummed.

"You were seen leaving the charity event early." Neil breathed a surprised laugh, but Claire raised her hand to continue.

"And Jessica left pretty early too. Coincidence?" Neil shook his head, a smile flickering across his face, but Claire couldn't tell if he was mostly amused or annoyed.

 

"Oh my God," he managed, rolling his eyes. Claire tilted her head to catch his eye.

 

"And now she's pregnant? Highly suspicious." Even before she'd said it, the thought that it might hurt him a little occurred to her, and she bit her lip before she could continue. But Neil just chuckled and sighed.

 

"Damn Reznick." Claire breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed the amused tone in his voice and chuckled as well.

"Sorry, I didn't mean for you to find out this way," he continued, and Claire couldn't help but laugh quietly before turning away.

It reassured her that he obviously wasn't too bothered by the situation, and that the Jessica issue didn't seem to affect him as much as she might have expected.

 

"I knew what I was getting into. A man like Dr. Melendez is and always will be a woman's magnet," Neil laughed a short, albeit sencere, laugh.

He turned fully toward her, the warmth returning to his eyes, his smile a little broader. He glanced over his shoulder before reaching out his hand to her. Claire raised a skeptical, albeit amused, eyebrow, and when he nodded, she let herself be pulled into his arms with a sigh.

For a moment, she ignored the heavy feeling in her stomach and the way her heart pounded against her ribcage and let him hold her. His chin rested on her head, and she felt his warm breath as he exhaled heavily.

Claire frowned, her hand slowly running down his back.

She didn't know how to interpret his reaction; he hadn't seemed particularly bothered by it, at worst he just seemed a bit stunned by it, but his body seemed to be speaking a completely different language.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked against his chest. Neil pulled away and nodded.

 

"Yes,“ he began, smiling even though it didn't reach his eyes, „There's just this patient." He hesitated for a moment as Claire looked at him challengingly, but then exhaled deeply. "Glioblastoma. It doesn't look good. It's ... just one of those cases."

The sadness reflected in his face, and Claire pressed her lips into a smile before nodding understandingly.

 

"If you want to talk about it ..." Neil's smile warmed a little, his eyebrow already raised teasingly.

 

"Oh, I forgot. Dr. Browne with her neuro-hands." Claire rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a breathy laugh when she noticed Neil's playful expression. She shook her head with a snort.

 

"I figured I'd just be there as moral support. But I could -" She dragged out the last word playfully, "take a look. If you're interested in my professional opinion."

Neil chuckled, but tilted his head and gave her the same look that always made her knees go weak.

 

"Mm. I like your moral support," Claire nodded.

 

"Mm," Her expression became a little more serious again, and she shoved her hands into the pockets of her lab coat.

"You could have Lane take a look," Neil nodded and crossed his arms. "Or, if you're really desperate, Shaun. If anyone can find a way, it's him." Neil's jaw tensed almost automatically, the muscles in his arms twitching, before he shook his head.

 

"Yeah, we'll see," Claire tilted her head, but just nodded. The smile quickly returned to Neil's face. "So, tonight's the big date night with Shaun and Lea?" Claire hummed in agreement and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

 

"And Glassman," Neil blinked, caught off guard. Something in his face changed, just a little bit.

 

"Glassman?" Claire opened her mouth to reply, but his far too surprised expression made her hesitate. She took a step back to study him more closely.

 

"Yeah, why?" His eyebrows raised only slightly before he shook his head and wiped his face with a hand.

 

"Hm, nevermind. He just didn't mention it." Claire hesitated for a moment, but decided not to dwell on his strange behavior. Instead, she gave him a warm smile.

 

"Will I still see you later?" she asked, her voice softer than before. He bit back a grin, but the amusement still shimmered in his eyes.

 

"You know where to find me."

 

---

 

Notes:

Oh well. Even more secrets Neil has to keep from Claire? Isn't that nice 🙄
Let's just say, lies don't get you far, right?

Well. We'll see how the whole Glassman Story will change things.

Next week will be fun. Karaoke Night it is. Have a great weekend 🤗

Chapter 22: I'm slowly learning how to break this spell

Notes:

A bit earlier this time, because I'm on vacation and my timeline is all over the place :D

You know that feeling of characters outgrowing you and your ideas? It happens alot lately.
And honestly, I love that. Them being like 'excuse me, this is not how we do things here' 😄
It is so fun, but sometimes sad for the story I had planned.
I try to put this unused story-bits in my oneshot-ff. At least the fun parts?
So It wo'nt get lost, just because those two decided to be better people than me.🙄😉

Anyway, have fun! It's karaoke night!

 

---

 

Claire twirled the straw in her glass as she waited for the others to finally arrive. A lot of things were going through her head, and surprisingly, many of them didn't even concern her or her own problems.

She couldn't get the conversation with Alex out of her head, or the way Morgan had reacted to him. She found it difficult to draw a clear line between helping and interfering, which is why she'd been debating for half an hour whether or not to force the two of them to have a conversation to clarify things.

It wasn't her problem, but the more often she thought about it, the more it almost became hers.

It didn't even matter to her anymore whether she ever found out what had happened between them, but Morgan had grown on her over the past few months and had probably become her closest friend, and Alex was important to her too. It was probably, as Dr. Malkin had pointed out, that they too had become part of her family, which made it almost impossible for her not to interfere.

Of course, her own curiosity played a role, but she didn't want to push it too far; she'd already been glad that Morgan hadn't pressed her too much about the whole scarf thing. If she pushed too hard, she might start asking questions again.

Questions she'd probably answer even more clumsily than before.

 

Claire took a sip of her far too sweet drink and let her gaze wander around the bar, all the way to the couple standing on stage, crookedly singing the lyrics to one of the cheesiest songs Claire had ever heard.

The corners of her mouth curved upward, even as she grimaced a little. The two were obviously more than a little tipsy and kept jumping each others bones between song breaks, putting on a show that almost made Claire blush.

Something about that sight warmed Claire's stomach, and when the woman started laughing loudly, Claire couldn't help but join in. She hid her own laughter behind her hand and turned back toward the bar so no one would think she was laughing at the couple.

She didn't find it embarrassing, not even particularly funny; in fact, she might even have been a little jealous.

They looked so free.

Free in a way Claire had always wanted and could now finally feel with Neil. Just not the way those both did.

She thought of the many times their eyes had met, always when they thought no one would see. Thought of how she had always quickly pulled her hands away when their fingers touched, almost as if his touch would burn them. The way one of them would always glance over their shoulder, afraid someone might hear if they were being a little too nice to each other.

It had become their bubble, a bubble she had needed, that had made her feel safe. All those moments in the bubble had been real, meaningful. And yet hidden.

 

She glanced over her shoulder, catching the singer's eye for a brief moment, and a part of her longed to do what the woman was doing right now - to throw her arm around him, sing terribly, and laugh until her stomach hurt, just because she could. Just because no one was watching, or because she didn't care if they were.

Claire knew where Neil stood on the whole thing; he'd probably wanted to make it public immediately after that first longing look, partly for protection, partly because that's just who he was.

He'd been content with how she wanted to handle the situation between them. And Claire knew how she stood on the whole thing. At least, that's what she'd thought.

But looking at this couple she knew absolutely nothing about, she wondered if Neil might have been right after all.

It was frightening to let the others know what they'd been hiding for weeks. But there was this small part, growing louder lately, that wondered if it might make things between them even better than they were. Maybe a little easier, too.

 

Or maybe they'd both been right; maybe they'd needed this time to figure out if things were for the better before going straight to HR. But by now they knew that.

Surely Claire couldn't say for sure if things between them would last forever, but who could?

The couple on stage? The couple who had married a few weeks earlier and were then rushed to the emergency room because they had gotten at each other's throats during an argument? The couple in oncology who had promised each other eternity but were now being torn apart by an illness neither of them had any control over?

There was no forever, and perhaps the illusion of it had frightened Claire, but Dr. Malkin had helped her sort out her thoughts and understand that it wasn't the fear of infinity or finitude that had frightened her. It was the fear of now.

But what did she have but this? This moment, this life, this version of herself.

 

She had no guarantee of anything else.

Not that Neil would be by her side much longer, not even that she would be there long enough to watch him go.

Maybe it was time to leave the bubble, maybe it had fulfilled its purpose. Maybe it was doing more harm than good by now. It had served, primarily to protect Claire.

But Neil had proven to her that she didn't need protecting, and Dr. Malkin had shown her that she didn't need saving.

 

Claire pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the chat with Neil, even though she wasn't sure what she wanted to say to him.

That she understood now? That she wanted to go to HR? That she stood behind what they had become? That she trusted him? Her finger hovered over the screen, the words in her head a complete mess by now.

For a split second, she toyed with the idea of sending him a simple I love you, but dismissed the idea as quickly as it had come and put the phone back in her pocket with a grimace.

Neil had been more than understanding of the way she handled her feelings, but she was sure the romantic in him would be furious if he received even a short message like this. Aside from the fact that her stomach lurched just thinking about it, it would have been easy to send those few words like that, but it would seem anything but sincere.

She sighed and pushed the straw back between her teeth.

Neil was complicated, in a way she didn't understand. Because he wasn't complicated at all.

He had his flaws, his quirks, which made it difficult to communicate openly with him some days.

But he was so simple because he didn't hide, not from his feelings toward her, not from Claires feelings. Even if she still wasn't entirely sure what was going through his mind sometimes, it never concerned their relationship.

She was certain that he wouldn't make a secret of it if he had a problem with her, or the way she handled certain things. Claire always knew where she stood with him, and that had given her so much comfort that she had drawn from it the strength to grow.

 

But she wondered if he felt the same way about her.

Her teeth clenched, her fingers drummed on the bar.

After being so open with Dr. Malkin, the next step would probably have been to do the same with him. To talk openly about her needs and thoughts and to decide together how things should proceed between them.

Maybe it was the alcohol already pumping through her veins, but at that moment she felt that she not only could, but also wanted to do that.

 

"Claire!" she suddenly heard and turned in her chair to look into Lea's beaming face as she waved to her across the room.

Claire raised her hand with a smile when she noticed Shaun snaking along behind Lea.

 

"Hey, there you are," she greeted as she gave Lea a friendly hug.

Her gaze passed Shaun and she raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"No Glassman?" Lea reflexively looked behind her and shook her head.

 

"No, he canceled at short notice. Says he has something important to do." Claire nodded understandingly and pushed the two of them the drinks she had ordered earlier.

 

"He's lying, he's not busy," Shaun interjected as he reached for his glass. He didn't let it show, but Claire sensed his worry and tilted her head.

"I saw his calendar. There was nothing relevant marked for today." Lea and Claire glanced at each other, Lea's expression a little tense, presumably because she'd had this same conversation a few times before. Claire shrugged.

 

"Maybe his plans have changed. Or he just forgot to put it in the calendar. He must have his reasons, Shaun." He shook his head overdramatically.

 

"No, if he didn't put it in the calendar, then he didn't have any plans. If he didn't put it in, it couldn't have been important. So he stood us up because he wanted to, not because he had to." Claire sighed sympathetically, and when she caught Lea's eye, she could immediately see her frustration.

 

"Well, we can have fun just the three of us," she tried to lighten the mood, sipping her drink. Shaun turned to her and looked at her expectantly.

"We can go on stage next," Lea cheered euphorically, throwing up her hands. Shaun immediately covered his ears, but a small smile crept into the corners of his mouth.

 

"Yes, Shauny! Let's pick a song!" Shaun clapped his hands and turned to the stage.

Lea and Claire laughed together, and when they turned to him, Claire's gaze fell on the couple who had finished their last song and were bowing to the more or less applauding crowd.

The two were beaming, their cheeks red, the corners of their mouths completely turned up, their eyes shining as they looked at each other.

Claire felt like she was watching the main characters in a romantic comedy losing themselves in each other, and she snorted and chuckled as they started making out, as if there was no such thing as 'too much' in public.

"Hey, are you okay?" Lea asked with a slight smile on her face. "You don't feel like you're the fifth wheel, do you?" Claire hesitated with her answer for a moment, not because she actually felt that way, but because she was actually missing something.

Even though, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't imagine Neil ever picking up a microphone and loudly singing along to the lyrics of a party song, that thought made her smile.

How nice it could have been if this had actually been something like a double date - even before she'd finished the thought, she grimaced.

 

"No, it's fine," she replied with a slight grin, even though Lea raised her eyebrow skeptically. Claire nodded in Shaun's direction, "I just pray Shaun doesn't insist on 'Whip It' again." Lea laughed, and she shook her head. "That song always stays in my head for days afterward," Lea shrugged.

 

"I think that ship has already sailed since you mentioned it."

 

Contrary to expectations, Shaun had chosen a song that neither he nor Claire knew. But Lea was more than thrilled with his choice, which was why Shaun didn't change his mind.

Claire was surprised, perhaps even impressed, that Shaun was moving outside his comfort zone, but lately, that seemed to be happening more often, and Claire was now certain that Lea had a more than positive influence on him. Since they'd gotten together, she and Shaun had also become somewhat closer again, and she more than appreciated that.

As they tried to keep up with the song, which was playing way too fast, Claire finally managed to completely switch off and just live in the moment.

All she could think about was the music and the laughter of her friends - no wasted thoughts on her mother, her guilt, the fear of not being good enough, the question of what would happen next.

She was simply herself, and she couldn't have put into words how good it felt to just be free.

 

"Shauny, I have to give you credit. You really have great taste in music," Lea grinned as they sat down at a small table near the stage and caught their breath.

 

Shaun actually looked proud and began to talk about how he had come to chose said song.

Claire shook her head with a smile before going to order a few more drinks for them and exhaling loudly - the smile still on her face.

Her throat was dry and scratchy, but there was no weight pressing behind her ribs anymore. She realized her shoulders weren't clenched, her jaw wasn't locked.

She couldn't remember the last time she felt this light.

 

There was a drink menu on the bar, but she didn't look at it; she already knew what Lea always ordered, what Shaun would tolerate, the same as usual.

Claire was focused on the way her fingertips tingled from clapping too hard, her voice was hoarse, but she didn't care. All she could think about was which song she wanted to sing next.

Maybe something more emotional, maybe something where the notes went so high that they wouldn't hit them under any circumstances.

The bartender raised an eyebrow, and Claire smiled, really smiled, and ordered the drinks.

As she waited for the bartender to return, she sighed again because she just couldn't stop it, this gasp, this breathing that suddenly came so easily to her. There was nothing there, except the music, the drinks, except this night that she wished would last forever.

There was nothing but Shaun in the corner trying to convince Lea to cover a duet from Les Misérables and Lea shaking her head in a no-no.

 

Claire returned to the table with three drinks balanced carefully in her hands, still feeling the waves of the song buzzing through her body. Her laugh lingered at the corners of her mouth, half-formed, like it might bubble out again at any second.

Lea was leaning across the table, animated, trying to convince Shaun that no one wanted to hear her cover of a song that Claire was convinced was nothing but rap.

Claire placed the drinks on the table, the corners of her mouth curling upwards of their own accord.

 

"A little pick-me-up," Lea grinned and reached for her glass, which she emptied in almost one gulp. Claire raised her eyebrow but said nothing, merely pushed her straw between her teeth.

"You guys were going strong up there," she said, a little sarcastically.

 

“You’re supposed to sing at full volume. Otherwise the machine doesn’t register your score properly.”

Claire and Lea exchanged a quick glance, once again unsure whether that was Shaun’s attempt at sarcasm or whether he actually meant it.

Lea snorted into her drink, Claire laughed, a real, easy laugh, the warmth of the alcohol, the lingering adrenaline from the stage, the shimmer of laughter, it wrapped around her like a temporary reprieve. A little pocket of calm in a life that had been all storms lately.

 

“I didn’t know you could sing so well,” said Lea, turning slightly in her chair to catch Claire’s eye.

Claire, once again overwhelmed by the compliment, shrugged and hid her smile behind her glass. Shaun held his glass out in her direction, which Claire watched with amusement.

 

"Claire sings very well. At the last Christmas party, she sang Last Christmas. She has a beautiful voice." Lea gave her a surprised look, and Claire hid her blushing cheeks behind her hands and shook her head, somewhat ashamed.

 

"Don't remind me," she mumbled, which only made Lea smile even more.

 

Claire didn't like to remember that time, and in fact, she barely could. It was shortly after her mother had died and she had lost herself in grief and confusion.

She remembered almost nothing about the Christmas party, and she hoped it was because of her trauma, but the more she thought about it, the more certain she was that she was so drunk that she had forgotten everything about that night.

That would at least explain why she had stood up in front of the entire hospital staff and started singing at the top of her lungs, even though there had been no stage or microphone.

After she and Neil had become friends, he had teased her about it, but said it had been nice, even though she had surprised everyone there with how much emotion she had put into that song.

And Claire hadn't even tried to save her skin when he'd hurled one taunt after another at her; she'd simply resigned herself to her fate and pushed that memory as far back in her mind as possible.

 

"Then I already know who we can hire for Glassi's birthday party," Lea murmured, barely hiding the sharp undertone as a wide grin spread across her face.

Claire just rolled her eyes, but Shaun clapped his hands euphorically.

 

"Oh! Dr. Glassman really liked Claire's singing," he agreed, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Although Last Christmas isn't the best choice for a birthday." Claire gave him a long, unimpressed look, a light-hearted laugh escaping her lips.

 

"How about we do something by ABBA next?" She distracted them, and her tactic actually paid off, and their conversation revolved solely around who would sing which song next.

 

Time flew by, and the drunker they got, the more fun and difficult each song seemed to be to sing along to.

At some point, they slumped back down at their table, and Claire was glad for the opportunity to calm down a bit as Shaun lost himself in a lecture about the surgery he'd performed that week with Alex and Lim.

At first, Claire had made an effort to listen, or at least nod occasionally, but eventually her mind drifted, and all she focused on was the music playing quietly in the background. Lea seemed a little more focused on keeping her attention on Shaun, but at some point, she too was half-lying on the table, her finger wiping the condensation on her glass.

Her gaze landed on Claire, and she chuckled.

 

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, after Shaun had fallen silent.

Claire hummed noncommittally, trying to collect her thoughts.

She hesitated for a moment as she looked in Shaun's direction, who was at least half-focused on her. There were many things she would have liked to discuss with her friends, but none of them had really been possible, so she just shrugged.

 

"Lane's study. It's fascinating, honestly. The potential ... it's hard not to get pulled in." Lea took a moment to answer, but then a smile crept onto her face, though Claire wasn't sure if she was actually amused or if the alcohol was controlling her facial muscles.

 

"Is this the brain zapper thing again?" Claire raised her eyebrows in surprise, not remembering having brought up the subject before, but reflexively shaking her head as she sat up straighter in her chair.

 

"It's not a zapper, it's neural stimulation. They're testing emotional regulation in patients with mood disorders. Well, it's also intended for Alzheimer's or stroke patients, but oh well." Lea nodded, even though she was clearly only half-listening, but Shaun turned toward Claire.

 

"You mean modulating activity in the prefrontal cortex using targeted impulses to regulate amygdala hyperreactivity. Yes. I read the paper." Claire's mouth twitched upward as she folded a napkin in her hand.

 

"Of course you did," she murmured, unsurprised.

She chuckled slightly when she noticed Lea watching her folding technique with fascination.

 

"The theory is promising, but the sample size is too small. And Lane's algorithm doesn't account for individual variance in serotonin transporter gene expression." Lea sat up in mock shock and took a deep breath, her mouth wide open as she stretched her arms out.

 

"Are you saying ... it's junk?" she asked, far too exaggeratedly, which made Claire roll her eyes, albeit a little amused.

Shaun gave her a quick look, considerably less impressed by her question, presumably because he hadn't understood the sarcasm behind it.

 

"It's incomplete," he corrected, "It might work, for some people. Not all. And not yet. Neural stimulation doesn't create long-term emotional stability. Not yet." Claire nodded and sipped her drink again, tilting her head as she wondered why she hadn't asked Shaun for his opinion sooner - he was the head; his would be the most objective.

 

“I know. And it’s not just that. There’s this whole vibe … like he wants it to work so badly that he’s not seeing the red flags. It reminds me of old psych treatments - how they called lobotomies miracles once too.” Lea choked on her drink and shook her head.

 

“That’s …,” She cleared her throat again, her voice carried on nothing but breath and surprise, “a pretty heavy comparison.” Claire pressed her lips together and exhaled heavily through her nostrils.

 

“Lobotomies damaged the prefrontal cortex. This study stimulates it. That’s the opposite.” Claire breathed a sarcastic laugh and shook her head.

 

“I’m aware,” her fingers slid along the rim of her glass, “I’m saying the mentality feels the same. The desperation to fix something complicated with something quick.” Shaun gave her a long look and nodded.

 

“Lobotomies were imprecise and irreversible. Lane’s device targets specific neural circuits and can be adjusted or turned off. It’s not the same.” Claire let out a long breath, but Shaun shook his head before she could answer, “But they both try to reduce emotional extremes by changing brain function. So the intention might be similar.”

Claire felt their eyes on her, but just sighed softly and pushed her lower lip out a little.

 

"Why does that bother you?" Lea asked, now a little more interested, the straw between her teeth.

Claire shrugged.

 

"I'm not sure if it does. Like I said, it's impressive. I just have to see how this whole thing develops." Lea hesitated for a moment and exchanged a look with Shaun before sitting up, her gaze a little warmer.

 

"You know ... if Lane's thing actually works, that'd be kinda amazing, right? Just imagine being able to fix mental illness. Like, for real." Claire almost flinched at the naivety in Lea's voice, but before she looked up, she opened her mouth and let out a soft breath.

 

"Fix it …," she mumbled, her eyebrows furrowed, her fingers drumming on the table.

Lea tilted her head, searching Shaun's gaze for a proper answer, but shrugged.

 

“Yeah. I mean, not in a creepy robot-brain kind of way, but … some people really suffer. If there’s a way to stop that, why not?” Claire hesitated for a moment and let out a short, uncertain laugh before sighing.

 

“Because it’s not that easy,” Lea nodded.

 

“But what if it could be? Like, if it helps people feel more in control, or less depressed, that’s good, right?” Claire raised her eyes and caught Lea’s.

She smiled, a little uncertain, a little intimidated, trying not to take her frustration out on her.

 

“I get it, I do. It sounds good. But that kind of thinking … it’s dangerous.” Lea seemed completely surprised, her answer already dying on her tongue, her mouth hanging open as she looked in Shaun’s direction for help.

Once again, he didn’t respond, and Lea shrugged almost apologetically.

 

"In what way dangerous?" It was Claire who now glanced at Shaun.

It was difficult for her to judge where the doctor in her began and where her personal experiences ended, and she didn't want to be too judgmental.

 

"Mental illness isn't a tumor you cut out. It's woven into someone's history, their patterns, their pain, their love. It shapes how they survive. You can't just ... switch it off," she hesitated for a moment. "Medicine is helpful, necessary, to get mental illnesses under control. But I don't believe in medicine as a panacea for them. The mind is harder to heal than the body." Lea gave her a brief smile.

 

"You've obviously already racked your brains over this," Claire nodded, almost a little ashamed that she had worked herself up into a rage again.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and then sighed softly.

 

"I ... grew up with someone I wanted to save. But it's not that simple," Lea pressed her lips into an apologetic smile, mouthing an apology.

 

"Mental illness is multifactorial. There are genetic, biochemical, social, and environmental influences. You can't fix all of them with one intervention." Claire glanced at Shaun in surprise and nodded, but before she could respond, he shrugged dismissively.

"But some symptoms can be reduced with neuromodulation. Deep brain stimulation has shown promise in treatment-resistant depression. So has transcranial magnetic stimulation. Lane's device is similar. It targets the subcallosal cingulate gyrus." Claire nodded.

 

"Yes, but I wonder how far this should go. Which part stays, which has to go?" Shaun didn't hesitate for a moment.

 

"That's a philosophical question, not a medical one. That is why ethical review boards exist." Claire nodded, more or less to close the subject.

 

Shaun was right, of course he was.

Lane's study had already entered the testing phase, and for good reason. It wasn't up to her to decide whether that was right or wrong. She had to accept the opportunity that had been presented to her because Lane had deemed her worthy of being a part of it.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and arranged to meet Morgan in the testing lab the next morning to go over the study together.

Before she could suggest the next song to sing, Shaun's phone vibrated, and he stood up in a flash.

 

"I have to go," Lea raised an eyebrow.

 

"What? You're drunk. Where are you going now?" Shaun put on his jacket and downed the last sip of his drink in one go.

 

"Shaun?" Claire gave him an unimpressed look, and only after another shout did Shaun finally look in her direction.

 

"I've been paged. That means I have to go," he shouted, turning around.

 

"You've been drinking!" Lea called after him again, and he turned to her with an odd gesture.

 

"I’m not going in surgery," was all he said before leaving, and Lea slumped back into her seat with a sigh before groaning and resting her face on her arms.

Claire was silent for a moment, her gaze still following Shaun, even though he had already left the bar. Out of habit, she also checked her phone to see if she'd been paged, which she hadn't.

Claire wondered what Shaun could be paged for in the middle of the night when he wasn't even on call, but before she could think about it, Lea sat back up, a warm smile on her lips.

 

"Please tell me you're not leaving me too," Claire hummed a thoughtful note and let a moment pass before shaking her head.

 

"No, no one else needs me tonight." Lea's face lit up, and she raised her hands euphorically.

 

"Yay!" Claire laughed softly, and Lea grabbed the empty glasses and winked at her. "I'll go get some more. Girls' night!" Claire nodded.

 

"Girls' night!" She exhaled deeply as Lea turned to the bar and disappeared.

While she'd grown more than fond of Lea, she'd never really been alone with her. Most of the time, Shaun had been there, and sometimes Morgan or Alex.

It wasn't like she was worried about things getting awkward - they were getting along well by now, and Claire was happy to count her among her friends. However, she never quite knew what Lea knew or was allowed to know.

After all, she was the only one of her acquaintances who wasn't one of her work colleagues.

Except for Dash, but after she'd ended things with him in a super stiff and awkward way, they weren't really in touch anymore. They weren't on bad terms, but after he decided to take a trip to Europe, as it had been Kayla's greatest wish, they barely found time to keep up with each other - except for the occasional postcard he sent her every few months, which she always smiled at and tucked away in her recipe box.

It always seemed a little strange to her to be around people who didn't work in the same field as her.

But if Lea got along with Shaun, she probably shouldn't be a problem for her either. Dr. Malkin would surely be proud of her, too; she'd been advising her to find friends outside the hospital since their first sessions, and especially in her current situation, where she was gagged by the rules and regulations, it was certainly helpful.

Well, even if Lea did work in the hospital, technically, it was still different, wasn't it?

Claire shook her head with a sigh, and when Lea returned with the next drinks, grinning broadly, she smiled too.

 

"For you," Lea said effusively as she pushed her glass toward Claire. "I've noticed that you like the ones with the umbrellas the most," she added, making Claire laugh.

Neil had teased her about it, too, even though Claire was the last person to care.

But somewhere over the past few months, she'd developed this reputation, and now it always made her chuckle whenever someone new mentioned it to her.

 

"I'm an open book to you," Claire teased as Lea slumped in her chair and fished her olive out of her drink.

 

"Hmm," she hummed, grimacing as she tried to push the olive in front of her on the napkin. Claire raised an eyebrow, and when Lea caught her eye, she shrugged.

"I can't understand how anyone could like those things. I just have to look at them and I could ..." She grimaced. Claire's eyebrow raised and she extended her hand toward Lea, who hesitated for only a moment.

"No," she mumbled, watching Claire pull the olive off the toothpick with her teeth.

 

"What? I like them." Lea's hand reflexively covered her mouth before she shook her head slowly and comically.

 

"Oh my God. That's - " She made gagging noises and held her hand up to her face to avoid looking in Claire's direction.

Claire laughed and grabbed Leas wrist, to pull her hand out of her face.

 

"God, you're so overdramatic," Lea puffed out her cheeks as if she were about to vomit in her mouth, but there was already a hint of a smile in her eyes.

 

"No, you're ... absolutely disgusting," Claire raised her hands, smirking defensively before twirling her umbrella in her glass.

 

"Wimp," she said quietly, which made Lea chuckle.

For a moment, they were silent, and Claire watched Lea out of the corner of her eye, watching the ice cube Claire twirled in her glass.

The corner of her mouth twitched upward, but she said nothing, enjoying the silence that had fallen over them, surprised by how pleasant it was to be quiet with her.

Claire didn't particularly like silence, at least not when she met privately with others; she was always worried that she was expected to fill it. But Lea had this warm charisma that signaled to her that she was okay with both; talking and being silent.

 

"Hey," Lea suddenly began, her eyes warm, but her smile a little uncertain, "I'm sorry about earlier, I guess I was a bit ..." She grimaced and raised her hand dismissively, "stupid." Claire smiled, even though she immediately felt guilty for making Lea feel 'stupid.'

 

"No, it's fine," She shrugged. "It's good to ask questions." Lea nodded, though still a little cautiously, before sighing.

Her expression became a little more serious, even though she tried to hide it behind a warm smile.

 

"I'm worried about Shaun," she began, and Claire's heart sank at the tone in her voice.

Lea didn't look up immediately, but kept her gaze on the napkin Claire had folded and was now slowly tearing into pieces.

 

"Why?" Claire hadn't noticed that Shaun was acting differently than usual, but she couldn't say she'd been paying much attention to him either.

Lea hesitated for a moment, rolling the remains of the napkin into a ball.

 

"Maybe I'm more worried about Glassi. Or Shaun and Glassi. I'm not so sure." With a loud exhalation, she raised her gaze and pressed her lips into an uncertain smile. "He's avoiding us. And when we look after him, he's standoffish, kind of cold. Shaun doesn't show it, but I think he can sense it, too." Claire nodded as she tried to sort out her thoughts.

 

The last time she'd spoken to Glassman was when he was still in the hospital, worried about Shaun. Claire was sure his opinion of Lea had changed; the way she was, he had no choice but to like her.

She bit her lip as she considered whether to tell Lea about that conversation, but when their eyes met, there was so much warmth and concern in Lea's that she couldn't bring herself to do so.

The last thing she wanted was to make Lea feel like she could have been responsible for Glassman's change of character.

She hummed thoughtfully.

 

"Have you tried talking to Glassman about it? When Shaun isn't around?" Lea shook her head and closed her eyes as she took a long sip of her drink.

 

"No, I don't know what to say. Maybe I'm just imagining it. I don't know." She paused. "When my grandpa got sick, he became just as withdrawn. He was always so kind to me, the only one who always wanted to laugh with me." A melancholy smile formed on her lips, which immediately disappeared with her next breath.

"He developed dementia when I was very young, and even before the symptoms became severe, it changed his personality. He was scared, then he got angry ... I didn't even recognize him anymore."

Claire gave her a moment of silence before shaking her head emphatically.

 

"I'm sorry," Lea smiled briefly, but waved her hand dismissively. "Are you afraid Aaron might have dementia?" Lea immediately shook her head and ran her hand through her hair.

 

"No, not that. But the way he's withdrawing ... just seems familiar to me." Her eyes reflected an emotion somewhere between fear and insecurity.

The uncertain laugh that followed didn't seem particularly sincere, but Claire let it go.

 

"Hmm," she murmured, searching Lea's gaze, "Maybe you should tell him that. Glassman has a good heart, and even if he withdraws when he sees you're worried, he'll surely take it seriously." Lea nodded slowly, as if considering whether this was the right course of action, and Claire shrugged, a small smile in the corner of her mouth.

"Maybe you should leave out the part where you compare him to a grandpa," Lea raised her gaze, a small twinkle already in her eyes. "He's very sensitive in that respect." Lea laughed softly, and Claire joined in.

When their laughter died down, Claire could still see the fear in Lea's face, but her worry lines faded, and relief began to form as she exhaled deeply.

 

"You're right. I've already thought about going to - " At that moment, she raised her gaze, her eyebrow lifted.

 

"Hello, ladies," Claire suddenly heard a deep voice next to her and turned in the direction Lea was staring.

She immediately caught the gaze of a tall, dark man, his eyes ice-blue. Claire tried to keep her mouth closed, unlike Lea, who seemed to make no secret of how impressed she was with his looks.

 

"Well, hello, handsome," she greeted him with a broad smile.

Claire raised her eyebrow, but couldn't tear her gaze away from the man, who, at Lea's comment, smiled so broadly that he revealed his sparkling white teeth.

 

"Is this seat taken?" His voice was deep and bass-heavy, sinking into Claire's soul.

She tilted her head, unable to think clearly.

The scent of his aftershave filled her nose, even though he was standing too far away to smell it.

Something inside Claire seemed to stop working when she looked at him - he was exactly the kind of guy she used to go for; tall, incredibly attractive, and conscious of his appearance with every vein in his body.

 

"No, come on, sit down," Lea said, reaching toward the empty chair opposite her.

Claire gave her a questioning look, but when she looked over, her eyebrows raised with a broad smile. The man sat down next to her and extended his hand toward Lea.

 

"I'm Devin. Nice to meet you." Lea's grin widened as she took his hand, and Claire watched the veins on his hand tense.

 

"Lea," she nodded toward Claire, and Claire immediately felt heat rise in her cheeks. "And this is my beautiful friend, Claire." Devin's gaze shifted to her, and Claire swallowed hard as he extended his hand, his wide grin already captivating her.

 

"Hello Claire, more than pleased to meet you." Claire took his hand and giggled nervously, something she hated herself for the next moment.

 

If there was one thing she was good at, it was flirting with men.

But what she was obviously really bad at was not flirting with men.

All her ease vanished with the pressure of his hand against hers, and when he let go, Claire hid her face behind her glass and gave Lea an indignant look.

Lea, however, seemed at least as disturbed by Claire's reaction, because her eyebrows were furrowed, her mouth was open in question, and she had to clear her throat to regain her composure.

 

"So, Devin. Are you just trying to impress us with your looks, or do you also plan to win us over with your singing skills?" He laughed and shook his head.

Even though his attention was clearly on Lea, Claire could feel his gaze on her skin out of the corner of her eye.

 

"Oh no. I just got home from work and wanted to treat myself to a cold beer with my colleagues after work." His gaze landed on Claire, and she forced a smile, even though she kept looking at Lea, trying to figure out where she was going with this.

She was the one who'd been excited about girls' night, and the first opportunity she got, she invited a strange man to their table?

"But then I saw you guys and thought you'd definitely be the better company for the evening." Lea laughed exuberantly and waved her hand.

 

"Sweet! What do you do?" Devin's gaze landed on Claire again, this time trying to hold hers.

The way he looked at her triggered something in Claire she couldn't interpret. She couldn't even tell if it was a good or a bad feeling, but when he gave her his crooked smile, Claire felt a warm shiver run down her spine and looked away.

 

"I'm a firefighter," he announced proudly, and Claire suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

Of course he was. It would have been more likely if he'd been a Playboy model who regularly posed in a firefighter's uniform.

Claire chuckled at the thought, but pressed her lips together to avoid attracting attention.

 

"Really? How impressive. Don’t you think so, Claire?" Claire closed her eyes for a moment when she heard her name and exhaled deeply.

So much for not attracting attention.

She slowly raised her gaze, her grip on her glass tightening, and when her eyes met Lea's, she made a point of mirroring every single emotion she felt. But Lea seemed unfazed, as she simply nodded in Devin's direction.

Claire sighed softly and turned toward him.

 

"Mhm, really. Very impressive," she managed, and Devin gave her his best smile, which made Claire's stomach flutter.

She rolled her eyes after all; he knew all those tricks that made women weak - the enchanting smile, the way he held her gaze longer than necessary, and the way his lips parted slightly when his gaze fell on her lips.

The simplest tricks in the world, and Claire knew every one of them by heart.

That's exactly why she hated herself for letting her body react and him achieve his goal.

 

"Claire is a surgeon," Lea announced proudly, at which Devin raised his perfect eyebrows even higher, his gaze flickering over her face, lingering on her eyes.

Claire gave Lea a quick glance, but was already smiling before Devin had even opened his mouth.

 

"Wow. So you save lives?" Claire's mouth twitched upward.

 

"You do too, don't you?" Devin laughed, the sound deep and dark. His body turned almost automatically toward her.

 

"You'd think so. Most of the time, I just rescue lost cats from trees." Claire forced a laugh and shook her head.

Part of her felt bad for being so cold and distant towards him, but the way he acted and what he said catapulted her back to a time she didn't want to be in anymore.

She'd had countless conversations like this, with men like him - admittedly, he was the particularly beautiful kind.

He shouldn't have even had to talk anymore.

She knew the answers by heart, knew what men like him would say to impress women like her, how he would look at her and when, and when the conversations would eventually die down and lead to more or less innocent physical contact.

It wasn't even Devin's fault; that was just how it worked, there was nothing wrong with it, but Claire had spent far too many evenings and nights waiting for just such a conversation that she now felt uncomfortable slipping into that version of herself again.

 

"Well, I think I'll get something to snack on," Lea began, standing up with a broad grin.

Before Claire could even think about it, she grabbed her wrist and stopped her from leaving. Her gaze flickered to Devin, who was looking at her with irritation, but she gave him a quick smile before turning back to Lea.

 

"You stay here," she said simply, and although Lea's confusion was evident, she slowly sat back down and giggled nervously. Claire let go of her wrist and turned toward Devin.

"I'm sorry," she began with a quick smile, "You seem really nice, but this was supposed to be a girls' night." Devin pressed his lips together and raised his hands apologetically.

 

"Hey, don't worry." He stood up, but not before flashing them his charming smile again.

"I just had to take the chance." Claire nodded understandingly and gave him a quick, perhaps a little awkward, wave.

"Have a nice evening, you two," Lea gave him a quick wave and a somewhat confused goodbye before turning to Claire.

 

"What was that just now?" Claire sighed and ran her hands over her face before looking in the direction Devin had disappeared to make sure he was out of earshot.

 

"I was just about to ask you that," she laughed, more to relieve her tension than anything else.

"If you invite a guy like that to your table, you'll be stuck with him all evening." Lea shrugged, somewhat uncomprehending, and shook her head.

 

"Well, that was the idea." For a moment, their gazes held, a clear misunderstanding between them. Claire furrowed her eyebrows.

 

"Were you trying to flirt with him?" Lea paused before laughing and extending her hand in Claire's direction.

 

"What? No, obviously not. I wanted you to flirt. I thought that was pretty obvious." Claire exhaled deeply, but felt her faces soften.

She wasn't used to having a wingwoman, which had made the whole thing seem more than a little strange, but when she noticed the sparkle in Lea's eyes and the way she smiled at her, almost confused, her muscles automatically relaxed.

 

"You could have at least warned me," Claire grumbled, but with a slight twitch in the corners of her mouth, which also loosened Lea's composure, as her relaxed smile returned as she slumped back into her chair.

 

"Yeah, totally. Next time a cute guy introduces himself, you'd better give me a secret signal so I know." Claire rolled her eyes and let out a breath that almost turned into a laugh.

"But what was wrong with him? He really was more than attractive," she added, meaningfully pushing the straw between her teeth and narrowing her eyes curiously.

Claire's mouth curled upward at his evasive tone.

 

"No interest," Lea unfortunately didn't let her off the hook so easily.

On the contrary - her gaze became even more intense and she leaned forward a little.

Claire felt the now familiar stone in her stomach when she didn't find the right words quickly enough to evade the truth as skillfully as possible. It was the price she had to pay for protecting her privacy, her secret, but now it felt as if the weight of that stone radiated throughout her entire body, down to her skin, which she no longer felt comfortable in.

"I've had my fair share of men, I'm good."

Lea hummed a long, drawn-out tone that was probably meant to indicate understanding, but her expression showed something completely different.

 

"So ... no men?" Claire shrugged, her head almost tilting in a shake. "So ..." Lea drew out the word particularly long, and the way she bit her lip suggested that she was already thinking nonsense.

"Women?" Claire raised her eyebrows in surprise and hesitated for a moment when she saw the joy in Lea's shining eyes.

 

"No, sorry," Lea smirked, the laugh caught somewhere between her chest and throat.

Claire laughed lightly, as if it slipped out by accident, and for a moment there was silence between them, even though the air seemed to carry everything they didn't say.

 

"Not even in college?" Claire paused for a moment, pursed her lips as if she were hinting at something, when a humming sound crept out of her.

When Lea started laughing, Claire immediately joined in and enjoyed being able to laugh about her love life, even for the tiniest moment, instead of constantly having to rack her brains over it.

 

By the time their laughter died down, Lea had already spread across the table again, but her eyes were still glued to Claire's face.

 

"What?" Claire asked, still amused as Lea studied her every expression.

 

"What's your type of man?" Claire groaned in annoyance and rested her chin on her hand, her eyebrow raised.

 

"Why are we talking about men all the time?" Lea, barely trying, shrugged one shoulder and chewed on her straw.

 

"You wanted a girls' night. Only thing missing now are cucumber slices and us pretending we’re at a spa.” Lea laughed even more at her remark than Claire did, but the next moment her expression became a little more serious, although the cheekiness still reflected in it.

"I'm just wondering what kind of man I could imagine next to you," she hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head.

"Because I'll tell you one thing, no one will be able to give you sweeter children than Devin."

Claire's smile faltered for a split second before she covered it with a sip of her drink. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks, even though she tried to hide it with a small smile.

Even before she looked up, she felt Lea's eureka moment in the way she sat up and her gaze captivating her.

 

"What?" Claire asked uncertainly, but tried not to let on.

Lea watched her nervously tug at the sleeve of her top, and Claire cursed her nervous tic, which had been almost as noticeable as if she had started to giggle loudly.

 

"What was that look you just gave me?" Claire gritted her teeth.

Damn.

She was actually more of an open book to others than she had expected. The naive part of her had thought, hoped, that only Dr. Malkin could read her face the way she did.

Well, and Neil probably, but that was another story.

 

"What look?" she asked, her lips curled as she breathed a soundless laugh. "You mean the 'why does this feel like an interrogation' look? No deeper meaning." A smile tugged at the corners of Lea's mouth, but before she let it spread across her face, she narrowed her eyes.

 

"You're nervous," she stated, and Claire dropped her arms to the table in defeat.

She sighed and gave Lea a quick smile.

 

"You make me nervous." A triumphant smirk crept across Lea's face, and Claire's fingers tightened around her glass, which she was now only holding to distract herself.

 

"And why is that?" Claire shrugged dismissively and let her gaze wander around the bar, trying to focus her attention on something other than Lea's far too smug face.

 

"No idea. Your energy?" Lea's eyes crinkled as a low laugh puffed past her lips.

 

"I have perfect, calm energy. Ask Shaun." Claire let her remark pass, now completely focused on sorting the remains of her napkin - at least, she pretended to be completely focused on that, and Lea, of course, didn't believe it for a second.

Her head tilted, and she leaned even closer to Claire, so they were almost breathing the same air.

"You're nervous. You have a secret," she concluded, and Claire's heart skipped a beat before it resumed pounding in her throat.

She only looked up for a split second, but it was enough to make the color rush to her face.

 

"I don't," she answered, surprisingly, quite convincingly. But Lea ignored her attempt at an excuse.

 

"Okay, so either you're actually into girls - which, by the way, I would have absolutely no problem with, let's go, Queen," Claire frowned, but couldn't suppress the slight smile anymore, even though it felt almost a little dishonest given the way the nausea was rising in her.

"Or ..." Lea drew out the word unnaturally, and by now Claire was sure she was doing it on purpose.

"You're already seeing someone." When their eyes met, Claire pressed her lips together, already assuming her secret was written all over her face.

 

"I ..." she began, but the word broke off in a breath.

Lea's eyes widened, and almost reflexively, she reached for Claire's hand, euphoria spreading across her entire face.

 

"Oh my God! Are you serious?" Claire held her breath, and for just a heartbeat, she toyed with the idea of simply laying all her cards on the table.

Finally getting rid of her secret and airing her dirty laundry in public. But before she could respond, the fear tightened around her vocal cords like a wire, and she sighed instead.

 

"I didn't say anything," she defended herself, and could see Lea's features soften at the tone of her voice.

 

"So there ... is someone? And you just don't want to talk about it?" Claire opened her mouth to say something, but the right words had slipped somewhere between her brain and her tongue. She wrinkled her nose instead.

 

"It's complicated," Lea's eyes searched hers, and when they met, there was nothing in Lea's except understanding. If Claire looked closely - perhaps a little curiosity, too.

 

"It always is, isn't it?" Her smile was warm as she slumped back in her seat, letting go of Claire's hand and reaching for her glass instead - probably more to give Claire space than to drink.

She let her gaze wander, almost as if she were putting the subject aside, but Claire knew this trick, had seen it so many times with Dr. Malkin - and it worked every time.

 

"It's more than that," she admitted with a sigh, regaining Lea's full attention. "It's complicated in a way that makes it stupid, you know?" Lea sipped exaggeratedly loudly from her drink as she narrowed her eyes and hummed thoughtfully.

 

"Hmm," she tilted her head. "Is it someone from the hospital?" Before Claire could answer, or not answer, depending on which option she would have chosen in this case, Lea raised her hand and shook her head.

"Of course, someone from the hospital, duh." Their eyes met again, and this time Claire didn't even bother to deny it - Lea had already seen through her, that much was obvious.

"Man or woman?" Claire rolled her eyes.

 

"My God, Lea. It's a man, okay?" The satisfied smile was reflected on Lea's face, and only then did Claire realize she'd fallen right into her trap.

She pressed her lips together and twisted the ring around her finger. Suddenly, Lea gasped in shock, her eyes wide, her hands stretched out all the way.

 

"O.M.G. Claire," Claire furrowed her eyebrows, but Lea was already leaning closer to her, her hands almost shaking with excitement.

"Please don't tell me you're dating that Lane guy." Her voice was several octaves too high, which made Claire chuckle even before she hesitated.

 

"What?" Lea waved her hands, grinning broadly, almost uncoordinated, as if she didn't know what to do with her excitement.

 

"That's why it's so complicated! And stupid? Because he's your boss!" Claire let a loud breath escape from her nostrils, but smiled almost tiredly.

Lea was obviously not wrong, even if her choice of lover couldn't have been further from the truth. Claire chuckled at the thought, imagining what Neil would think if he found out that someone suspected an affair between her and Lane.

 

"No, I'm not dating Lane," she muttered, rolling her eyes but with a twitch in the corners of her mouth.

Lea mumbled something unintelligible, but her body language already said everything she was trying to hide behind her more or less neutral expression.

 

"Too bad, I thought that was pretty obvious. The whole boss theory. It would be a bit too much Grey's Anatomy, but hm." She raised her glass to her mouth, but her eyes remained firmly fixed on Claire.

 

Claire sighed heavily, her eyebrows furrowed. A small part of her, which seemed to grow with every minute, wanted to open up, wanted to tell the truth, even if only once.

She was already toying with the idea of making it official, so how bad could it have been to make the first move with Lea?

Would she run to HR and tell on her? Would she judge her for not following the rules?

She gave Lea a pointed look - Lea didn't seem like the kind of person who would judge anyone, judging by the fact that she was with Shaun. Sure, it had taken a while, but by now she was empathetic and understanding.

That said, she probably wasn't someone who placed much importance on rules, at least that wasn't how she seemed.

Claire felt her pulse in her ears and bit the inside of her cheek, her finger nervously tracing the rim of her glass.

One step at a time, she told herself, looking up with a loud exhalation.

 

"You're not wrong," Lea pursed her lips in fascination, but said nothing, even as a nervous, quiet laugh escaped Claire.

 

"A little more specific, please." Claire averted her gaze again, staring at the chipped wood of the table, trying to control her heartbeat and not back out immediately.

 

"I'm in a relationship," she confessed, the words coming out of her mouth so quickly that Claire wasn't even sure Lea would understand.

But the next moment, Lea choked on her drink again and slowly raised her eyes to meet Claire's. Her head was now slightly tilted, her eyes wide open, but she didn't press the question, and that was probably what gave Claire the final push.

"With Neil."

 

There was a silence that Claire could barely bear - the air suddenly too stuffy, the room suddenly much too small, her thoughts much too loud.

But Lea didn't react immediately. Her gaze landed on some unspecific spot next to Claire, and she pressed her lips together.

 

"Neil? Which Neil?" Claire paused for a moment, assuming Lea was just teasing her, but when she looked back in her direction, her expression actually showed nothing but confusion.

 

"Melendez," her reply came out a little more snippy than she'd intended, but she blamed it on her nerves and exhaled heavily. Lea's eyes rattled before she instantly flinched.

 

"Wow ... Melendez? Neil Melendez. You mean as in … Neil Melendez, the Attending Melendez?" Claire raised her hands, almost a little offended, and groaned in frustration.

 

"Yes, exactly that one." Before she could or even needed to defend herself further, Lea rapped both hands on the table, her eyes shining.

 

"Oh my God. You're kidding me," she said in a squeaky voice, but didn't even wait for an answer before slapping her hand over her mouth, which was twisted into a wide grin.

"This is the best day of my life!" Claire rolled her eyes in excitement and breathed a sound that almost turned into a laugh.

 

"Shut up," Lea shook her head euphorically and turned completely in her direction.

 

"No, I'm totally serious. He ran into me the other day in the cafeteria and gave me that look. You know - when you're not sure whether he's smiling or not - and I was just wondering how a man like him could still be single."

Her sentence ended in another squeak, and in a strange way, it involuntarily relaxed Claire's muscles. The smile on Lea's face slowly mirrored hers, albeit very cautiously.

 

"Well ...," was all she could say, because it was as if all her thoughts had suddenly fallen silent.

She had expected to have to justify herself and had prepared a thousand responses for it.

But Lea was smiling, seeming genuinely pleased, not a muscle in her face showing condemnation or suspicion.

It was a strange feeling; Claire had imagined so many times what it would be like to say this thing out loud, something she'd been swallowing down for weeks, months, but never once had she dared to expect such a reaction.

 

"Oh God, this is so exciting, my heart is beating so fast right now," Lea said with a grin, which made Claire laugh as well. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? He's so hot." Claire shrugged, even though she felt the heat creeping into her cheeks.

A breath escaped her lips, something close to an uncertain laugh, before she shook her head.

 

"Like I said, it's ... complicated," Lea nodded and, exhaling loudly, leaned back to examine Claire more closely.

Alongside the feeling of excitement, another one spread within Claire, one she also hadn't expected and which, in this context, seemed almost strange. But the way Lea looked at her, she couldn't help it.

She was proud.

Proud in a messed-up way, and this time not even in herself for opening her mouth, but simply for the simple fact she'd gotten used to.

That she was in a relationship with Dr. Neil Melendez.

 

"Wow," Lea breathed, narrowing her eyes, an intense expression replacing her joyful smile.

Claire's face was obviously question mark enough, because as she tilted her head and hummed thoughtfully, she shrugged one shoulder.

"I'm just picturing you two together." Claire frowned, feeling a little exposed, but also strangely flattered. But as Lea turned her head even further and the sound leaving her throat deepened, Claire felt the usual shiver of discomfort run down her spine.

"God, I bet you two have really hot sex," she murmured, and Claire couldn't help but gape in shock.

 

"Lea!" she called, embarrassed, as she threw the napkin scraps at her, but Lea raised her hands defensively.

 

"What? Let me savor this; this is the best thing that's ever happened to me." She snorted a short laugh as she looked into Claire's unfazed face, and the next moment, they both couldn't hold back and burst out laughing.

It was liberating; for a few seconds, Claire felt like the most normal woman in the world; red-cheeked, giggling with her friend while talking about her normal boyfriend.

No broken rules or hearts, no guilt, no unsaid words or fears that felt bigger than they actually were.

 

As soon as their laughter died down, the insecurity returned in quiet steps, but this time it didn't burrow as deeply under her skin as she was used to.

 

"Thank you," she said almost apologetically, and Lea raised her eyebrow, "For not judging." Lea's features softened.

 

"Any time,“ There was a brief moment of silence, which wasn't uncomfortable, but created enough space for questions that Claire could otherwise only answer with the help of her therapist.

"So ... I think the whole boss thing is actually what's making things so complicated between you guys." Claire nodded briefly, even if it was only a brief, barely noticeable movement of her head.

 

"Part of it, at least," Lea nodded understandingly, her gaze becoming a little more serious, though no less warm.

 

"If you want to talk, you already know I'm a great listener." Claire pressed her lips into a smile, and with a deep breath, she nodded slowly.

 

"I still have trouble ... being completely open with him," she began uncertainly, expecting Lea to look at her with dismay, or even laugh, but she didn't. "He's already completely into it. Into us." Lea waited a moment before tilting her head.

 

"And you aren't?" Claire said nothing, and that was answer enough for Lea. She smiled gently. "Why not?" Claire laughed, even if it was more of a protective reflex, and twisted the ring around her finger.

 

"Trauma," she answered simply, which made Lea snort sarcastically, and Claire shrugged dismissively. "Looks like I'm super great at fixing other people, but I'm pretty broken myself." Even then, she expected Lea to laugh, but she still didn't.

When their eyes met, there was warmth in her face, perhaps a little sadness too.

She reached out her hand toward Claire, and whatever it was that made Claire take her hand, she allowed it and smiled as she felt the warmth emanating not only from Lea's fingers, but from her very being.

 

"Claire. You are the kindest, funniest, and most empathetic person I know. Everyone, even Dr. Handsome, can consider themselves lucky to have you in their life." Claire sighed, but her breath wasn't as heavy as it used to be.

 

"The funny thing is, I know all this," the corner of her mouth twitched upward, but it didn't even turn into a bitter smile. "But my head plays this nonsense, and then I can't see clearly anymore." She sighed and shook her head.

Lea hesitated for a moment before giving her a reassuring smile.

 

"Because you've had bad experiences with relationships?" Claire raised her hand almost casually, as if she simply wanted to dismiss the thought.

 

"Relationships of all kinds. The ones with my parents, the ones with previous partners. All of that was so messed up that I ... I don't know," Lea nodded, giving her some breathing room by sipping her drink.

"Love has become so complicated." Their eyes met, and Lea's warming smile wrapped itself around Claire like a protective barrier, causing her to exhale softly and her muscles to relax.

 

"I get that," she began, almost casually, "The relationship with my parents wasn't the best either." Claire nodded wearily, resting her head in her palm, but Lea's gaze remained meaningful.

"I don't want to say I know exactly what you've been through, but I know how difficult it is to accept that love can take different forms."

Claire's mouth twitched upward at the thought that all she had to do was close her eyes and Dr. Malkin would've been sitting in Lea's place.

She'd heard things like that from her so often that she thought she'd internalized them by now, and yet a bitter aftertaste arose every time she thought of those poster-worthy sayings.

 

"Yeah?" she asked, even though she didn't know what answer she was expecting.

She knew little about Lea's personal life, partly because she'd never asked, and partly because she hadn't had the feeling Lea was comfortable talking about her past.

There had been a few moments when she'd talked about her parents, but the subject had always been swept under the rug so quickly that Claire could barely remember anything about it.

Lea nodded.

 

"It wasn't always easy with my parents, which is probably why I'm messed up," She laughed, and Claire forced herself to reply with at least some seriousness.

"But I've also had some experience with relationships, some with complete idiots, some with what I like to call 'Prince Charming.'" Lea's smile narrowed a little.

"At some point, you have this idea, expectations of what love should look like, and when it looks different ..." She raised her gaze, the joy now gone from her face, although the corners of her mouth still turned up slightly. "Shaun doesn't love like most people do." Claire nodded slowly.

 

"Obviously not," Lea snorted a short laugh, but shook her head.

 

"And at first, it scared me because it was foreign. It felt wrong." She leaned her body completely toward Claire, her hand resting gently but lightly on hers, giving her the opportunity to pull it away if she felt the need.

"But as soon as I stopped looking for love the way I expected it to be ... I saw it everywhere." Claire couldn't suppress the wide grin that spread across her face, her skin began to tingle, and a soft gasp escaped her lips when she saw the love radiating from Lea.

"And I've never been happier than I am now," She pressed her lips together, a soft laugh escaping anyway, before she shook her head.

 

"Lea ...," was all Claire could manage, sensing how emotional Lea had become.

But she just waved her hand dismissively, rolling her eyes, almost surprised by her own feelings.

 

"What I'm saying," She wrinkled her nose and gave her a broad smile, "you have to try to stop expecting the kind of love you're used to, and then you'll see what you have with him."

Claire was lost for words for a moment as she looked into Lea's warm eyes.

 

She hadn't expected how understood she would feel - not just not judged, but truly and warmly understood.

Not because their life situations had been the same, but because the experience with Shaun allowed Lea to see through Claire's noises and her trauma without jumping to conclusions.

She knew that love could be messy, strange, and sometimes even unrecognizable when she'd only ever seen it through pain.

And that's precisely why Lea was perhaps the first person to give Claire permission to see love in a new way, and not just through the eyes of a therapist trained to say the right thing at the right time so Claire wouldn't feel so broken.

But simply from the eyes of someone who understood her because she knew what it was like. Because she had felt it too.

 

Claire's finger twitched and closed around Lea's hand. She still didn't know what she should have said, but Lea understood that too, because she simply nodded slightly and gently squeezed her hand in hers.

Claire exhaled deeply and felt the relief spreading through her after actually saying what she had with Neil out loud and, instead of being judged, receiving good advice.

Perhaps it would be the same with her other friends, with her family.

Maybe it was time to lift the burden of hiding from her shoulders and lay all her cards on the table. To own up to what had happened, to stand up for Neil, no matter what.

Maybe she was finally ready to take that very step.

Not because it was expected of her, but because she wanted to.

 

---

 

Notes:

Well. Claire, my baby - ready for the final step, you say?
Let's say how this will go! 🫣

Happy weekend to all of you!🥰

Chapter 23: My way to you

Notes:

A bit earlier again, because I will drop something fun tomorrow 😏

 

---

 

It was one of the only few times Claire had almost been late to work - at least since she had started feeling better.

But this time, she wasn’t late because she hadn’t heard her alarm in her hangover, or because she hadn’t managed to get out of bed, like she sometimes did when she was depressed. This time, it was simply Neil’s fault.

After leaving the bar with Lea in the early hours of the morning, she had decided to go to Neil’s apartment instead of her own; and she hadn’t regretted that choice, even as she hit the snooze button on her alarm for the third time in a row.

 

Neil hadn’t even noticed she’d slipped in, although she was sure slipping in wasn’t quite the right word for the chaos she’d left in her wake; her keys clattered to the floor as soon as she walked through the door, she ran into a chair while grabbing a drink, and in the shower, she’d dropped more than one bottle of shampoo.

Apparently, the drinking game Lea had invented at the end of the night had been a bit over the top.

Still, Neil had slept like a rock, and Claire smiled softly at the sight as she climbed into bed beside him, noting that he hadn’t moved an inch.

When she draped an arm over him, she almost felt guilty, seeing him so utterly switched off, but a small warmth settled over her at the feel of his shoulder beneath her hand. She lingered there, noticing the slow rise and fall of his chest, the faint rhythm of his breath, a private intimacy she couldn’t get enough of.

 

Slowly, things seemed to be going better for Claire.

She had more good days than bad, and even though there was still work ahead of her, she could say with certainty that she was improving. She had been more open with her friends, her therapist, and Neil; more open than ever before.

And it had left its mark. She had grown.

But the more her own life settled, the more clearly she saw that Neil’s was moving in the opposite direction.

He had always been honest with her, even about his feelings, but it had long been clear that there were many things he kept to himself, at least partly.

At first, she had thought it wouldn’t be a problem, neither for her nor for their relationship.

But over time, it had built an invisible barrier between them, barely noticeable yet impossible to ignore. Claire felt it like a subtle tug, a thread that should have connected them but remained slack, teasingly out of reach.

She brushed her fingers along the edge of the blanket that separated them, almost testing the distance, almost daring the invisible line to give way.

 

She knew she wasn’t the problem, and she hoped that if something weighed on him, he would talk to her about it.

But lately, many things had happened or changed that were completely out of Neil’s control.

And she knew all too well how much he struggled with situations he couldn’t control; Lane showing up, which had affected him in a way she still didn’t fully understand; Jessica’s pregnancy, which he barely mentioned; and the daily stress of hopeless cases at the hospital.

Each one left a quiet mark on him, a shadow she could sense but not really heal.

 

And as she rested her head slightly closer to him, careful not to disturb him, she felt that subtle ache of longing again - the fragile pull of wanting to bridge the distance without words.

 

Everytime he noticed her watching him from the corner of her eye, searching for a sign that he was worse off than he admitted - he smiled and reassured her; almost like a mantra.

But Claire was neither blind nor naive, and she certainly hadn’t just met Neil yesterday. She could sense when he was hiding something; in the way his shoulders tensed, the subtle tightening of his brows, even beneath the distracting grin he always gave her.

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was going on inside him, but she read it in every flicker, every shift of his body.

When they were alone, he still showed her his gentlest side. He listened to her, even laughed at jokes that she didn’t even find all that funny herself.

And yet, she knew the weight he carried, the invisible strain behind the calm exterior. Years of staring into her own reflection had taught her the exhaustion of appearing strong, and now she saw it mirrored in him - a quiet, familiar pain that tugged at her chest.

Maybe it would get better on its own, she told herself.

Once he processed the situation with Jessica, and finally laid to rest the far-too-long saga with Lane ... Yet even as she comforted herself with that hope, Claire knew she was deceiving herself.

She saw it as she watched him sleep - sleep that offered little relief, more a necessary pause than true rest. His brow was furrowed even in slumber, his expression almost stern, yet she lingered, her thumb tracing a slow, gentle path across his skin. She held herself close, just to feel him near, to bridge the distance he build by closing off.

 

She couldn’t deny that she worried. Secretly, she hoped every day that he would finally be able to open up to her the way she had - because it felt almost absurd how skewed the world had become.

Neil had always carried the truth on the tip of his tongue, never afraid to make it known, whether people wanted to hear it or not. When it came to his private life, he was more guarded, but even there, Claire felt she had been the exception.

Whatever it was, he had rarely kept from her what burdened him, even if he never spoke it aloud. And he didn’t need to; she understood.

Even when she had been nothing more than his resident, he had seemed to seek, or at least value, her personal advice.

The more she got to know him, the greater a mystery he became. And perhaps that frightened her again.

Not because she doubted what he told her, but because she wondered about the things he kept to himself. The things he held inside simply because that was who he was.

She couldn’t help but wonder whether that would ever change, or if she would have to accept that a certain quiet barrier would always exist between them.

She rested her hand lightly on his arm, as if to silently anchor him, a small, unspoken wish to be closer, to be trusted, to be needed.

 

But these thoughts, these fears - they weren’t why she had almost been late to work.

 

It had been Neil’s arm, wrapping around her in the middle of the night, warm and heavy, as if, in his sleep, he had decided not to let her go.

It had been that sly smile when she opened her eyes and caught him pretending to sleep - the calm, even rhythm of his breathing far too steady to be real.

The deep, slightly hoarse hum as she tried to pull away from his embrace, only to hear him laugh softly the next moment as she simply slid back against him.

And maybe, in part, it had been her own doing, as she retaliated under his half-conscious mumbling for the hickey he had left her; slow and with pleasure, as if time itself had slowed to let her savor every second.

No matter why she had been late, she hadn’t regretted it for a single second.

Not even when Morgan shot her a cheeky comment, teasing that she only came in early because of her.

 

They had managed a brief discussion about Lane’s study, which Claire didn’t mind; arguing was hardly easier with the combination of sleep deprivation and lingering alcohol in her system.

 

However, she did grow slightly concerned when Lane failed to show up for the start of his shift, again, not even after half an hour later.

And he hadn’t responded to his pager either.

 

“So …,” Morgan gave her a quick glance, but drew out the word just long enough to make it deliberate. “Lane is officially late. If I find out he’s involved in some fancy surgery and didn’t call us, I’ll be pissed.” Her voice was sarcastic, but Claire was certain at least part of it was true.

She snorted softly but, almost reflexively, checked her own pager, just to be sure.

 

“That’s not like him. He’s usually punctual.” Morgan shook her head and stopped in front of Claire, prompting her to pause as well.

 

“No. Usually he’s early,” Claire nodded thoughtfully, realizing it was already the second time that week he hadn’t been reliable.

Of course, that wasn’t unusual in a surgeon’s life, but in Lane’s case, it was more than just noticeable.

 

“I’ll check the observation deck. You try the lab.”

 

“Deal.”

 

They split up, and Claire asked everyone she passed if they had seen him, but he seemed to have vanished without a trace.

 

Claire couldn’t make sense of Lane, though she wasn’t even sure if she should try to.

He had been working at the hospital for a few months now, more or less, yet he seemed like a stranger to everyone. Not that she automatically befriended every new colleague, but he had this presence, this aura, that suggested it was only a matter of time before everyone danced to his tune. Yet, whenever she saw him, he was alone, usually immersed in his own work.

Sure, when she worked with him, he was confident, and by now somewhat more open - he made jokes she would never have expected at first and seemed less concerned with the opinions of others.

And yet … no one seemed to feel the need to get closer to him, or maybe it was he who drew those boundaries.

Whatever it was, Claire swallowed a pang of guilt, trying to convince herself that it wasn’t her problem, that it wasn’t her job to dig up issues in ordinary situations just because her gut was acting up.

Of course, her gut had always been more friend than foe, and in most cases, she had been right; her instinct had grown from experience and self-trust.

Perhaps there was a reason her intuition flared whenever it involved Lane … or maybe it was just coincidence.

 

Claire rounded the corner, slowing when she saw a spill of warm light from an open doorway. She stepped closer, peering in.

 

Lane stood alone, back to her, his blazer slightly askew, one button fastened through the wrong hole - something Claire wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t normally impeccable.

She raised an eyebrow as she followed his gaze; his brows were furrowed, his attention locked on a young man through a glass pane, curled up on a bed, arms wrapped around his knees, his body rocking slightly.

Lane’s focus was fixed, but it wasn’t the usual confident, analytical sharpness. There was a stillness to him, heavy and tense. One hand buried in his pocket, the other drifted up, fingers pressing lightly against his sternum, lingering there as if trying to hold down some weight. He exhaled, slow and uneven.

Claire tilted her head, observing a beat longer before knocking lightly on the doorframe.

 

“Dr. Lane?” she asked softly, but he was already turning toward her.

She offered a smile, and he simply nodded briefly, clearing his throat, almost as if surprised to see her.

 

“Dr. Browne. You’re early,” he said.

Claire paused, stepping a little closer as his gaze returned to the glass pane in front of him. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted how deep the shadows under his eyes had grown, and how his hair was slightly tousled, as if he had run his hands through it one too many times.

 

“You’re actually late,” she murmured, sliding her hands into her lab coat pockets, watching him lift his arm to check his watch.

For a moment, he seemed almost surprised himself, but dismissed it with a faint, almost self-conscious smirk.

 

“I must have lost track of time." Claire nodded with a faint smile, letting her gaze wander again - to the two untouched coffee cups, now cold, to the laptop beside them, still unopened.

She wrinkled her nose, a small frown tugging at her lips.

 

“Have you been here long?” His face gave nothing away, not even his usual furrowed brow.

 

“Since yesterday afternoon,” he replied, his voice carrying no pride, no exhaustion, only a quiet statement of fact. Claire frowned, sensing the weight behind it.

 

“You haven’t slept much,” she observed quietly.

A small, almost unnoticeable smile tugged at his lips, but perhaps it was only her imagination. His hand still moved lightly over his chest, a rhythm so subtle it could have been a mantra, a private gesture of grounding that she had never seen before.

 

“You know how it is,” he murmured.

Claire gave a brief nod, letting her gaze drift back to the young man behind the glass. Up close, she noticed his lips moving as if speaking to someone unseen. His arms bore red scratches, marks likely from scratching at himself. Claire exhaled slowly, a quiet weight settling in her chest.

 

“Who is he?”

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, yet the question seemed to stir something in Lane.

His hand brushed over his chin, the air leaving his nostrils in a slow, heavy exhale. Almost imperceptibly, he stepped forward, tilting his head with a faint, hesitant shift.

 

“Arthur Morales. Seventeen. Major Depressive Disorder.” His voice was low, carried only by breath, and Claire pressed her lips together, the tension coiling through her shoulders.

 

“So … he’s here for the device,” she said quietly, more a statement than a question, though the slight arch of her eyebrow hinted at curiosity, concern, and a trace of doubt.

Lane didn’t answer immediately, only nodding toward the file tucked beneath one of the coffee cups. After a brief pause, Claire reached for it, expertly ignoring the coffee stain on the folder.

 

[Patient File: Arthur Morales]
DOB: 03/12/2008
Age: 17
MRN: 48271-LI-01
Referring Physician: Dr. Richard Lane
Primary Diagnosis: Major Depressive Disorder, treatment-resistant; emotional dysregulation
Secondary Notes: Episodes of irritability, impulsivity, and mood lability; no confirmed manic episodes
Allergies: NKDA
Implant ID: NII-R02 (Neural Interface Implant – Regulation Protocol, Revision 02)

 

Medical & Psychiatric History:

• Age 13: First depressive episode, presenting with social withdrawal, sleep disturbance, decreased appetite, academic decline.
• Age 14–16: Multiple failed medication trials (SSRIs, SNRIs, atypical antidepressants, mood stabilizers). Minimal sustained response.
• Age 15: One voluntary inpatient stay (14 days) following passive suicidal ideation. No attempts recorded.
• Ongoing: Weekly therapy sessions pre-implant; no significant breakthrough in emotional stability.

 

 × Device: Neural Interface Implant, Regulation Protocol - experimental trial.

 × Rationale: Direct modulation of amygdala-prefrontal connectivity to reduce negative affect reactivity and stabilize mood.

 ×  Initial Outcome: Within 2 weeks, marked improvement in mood stability; PHQ-9 score decreased from 22 (severe) to 6 (mild). No significant adverse effects noted.

 × Follow-up (6 months): Patient reports “feeling normal for the first time in years.” Returned to full school attendance.

 

Claire furrowed her brow as she slowly lifted her gaze, the weight in her chest pressing down like a stone.

 

A seventeen-year-old boy. Patient Zero of a barely tested prototype.

 

The medical record mentioned his parents repeatedly; concerns, doubts, fear. Likely the reason they had agreed to participate in the study.

Her stomach knotted. She felt the pull of responsibility tighten around her, a quiet, insistent pressure that reminded her just how fragile this experiment, and this boy, was.

The thought of what he might endure, untested, uncertain, made her pulse quicken and her breath hitch, almost without her realizing it. Every detail in the file, every note about his parents’ fears, seemed to echo through her mind, amplifying the sense of weight pressing against her ribs.

Claire wanted to look away, to give herself a momentary reprieve, but she couldn’t. Her eyes remained fixed on the papers, her mind running through every possible scenario, every risk, every hope that this young kid would somehow emerge from the unknown intact.

She could feel the responsibility settle like a mantle over her shoulders, heavy, real, and impossible to ignore.

Seventeen years old and already the name Lane could pull out at conferences, in glossy presentations, when he wanted to prove his device worked. He could‘ve been the story, the miracle.

But being the first meant something else, too. It meant there was no road before him, no set of patients to prove it was safe, no map of what five years, or ten, might look like. It meant every fluctuation, every change in mood, every strange sensation in his skull was uncharted territory.

And Arthur wasn’t thirty-five with a stable life and a fully-formed sense of self, he was a teenager.

A kid still trying to figure out who he was, now doing it with a piece of hardware regulating his emotions, or rather trying to.

Arthur had been stable for months, and Lane had probably called it a victory.

 

Just one patient. And you’ll change your mind;  He had been the one to tell her that. So convinced was he of something that seemed almost too good to be true.

But stability wasn’t the same as healing. She knew depression, real, stubborn depression, didn’t just pack its bags and leave because a chart said it had. Lane’s notes called it possibly device drift. She called it the beginning of a relapse.

 

“The device isn’t working anymore.” Hardly a question, more a statement, but she felt Lane tense beside her.

“Since when has it worsened?” Silence followed.

Claire wasn’t sure whether Richard simply didn’t know what to say, or if he wasn’t certain whether he should tell the truth. He crossed his arms, nostrils flaring slightly, yet his face remained mostly expressionless.

 

“The parents can’t say for sure,” he shook his head so slowly that Claire almost didn’t notice.

“He hasn’t eaten in a few days, quieter than usual.” His weight shifted slightly from one foot to the other.

“Yesterday morning, he had a breakdown. Hard to say how bad it really was. You know how parents are.” A quiet snort left him, devoid of any amusement.

Claire studied him, head tilted slightly, but Lane didn’t look away from the glass pane.

 

“How bad?” she pressed, knowing the answer was hardly simple.

He glanced at her briefly, his posture stiff. A cough escaped him, perhaps an attempt to regain control, but she could see the tension in every muscle of his body.

 

“The morning before yesterday, he started crying. According to his parents, no direct trigger. Didn’t stop until he was admitted to us the next morning. He was sedated.” Claire nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat as her gaze returned to Arthur.

A tiny bundle of misery, curled in on himself as if trying to disappear from the world by making himself as small as possible.

 

“Any issues with the device?” Lane shrugged, a fleeting, almost defensive motion, as if trying to let the question dissipate into thin air.

His eyes drifted past her, as though searching for an answer elsewhere.

 

“The tests are unremarkable.”

He paused, and the silence between them stretched one heartbeat too long. When Claire looked at him, she caught something deeper than fear in his eyes, not just concern that his study might fail.

There was compassion there, warm and unexpected, and it made her involuntarily hold her breath.

 

“Any idea what might be causing it?”

Her voice was controlled, not accusatory, yet she had to force herself not to blurt out her honest opinion.

Lane tilted his head, brows furrowed slightly, as if the answer was on the tip of his tongue - but he hesitated, unsure if he should speak it.

 

“Not yet … but soon.” His brow furrowed further as he exhaled slowly. “I just have to stay on it. With luck, it’s related to his somatotropin levels.”

Claire raised an eyebrow, letting her gaze drift from him to the file and back, a quiet doubt lingering in the room. Then she let the folder fall onto the table with a soft thud.

 

“Maybe we could remove the device for a while, see how he does. That way we could rule out that it’s the -”

 

“No.” He cut her off faster than necessary, his gaze hardening. “No changes. Not now. Not at this stage. It’s too dangerous.” Claire’s face tightened slightly, her nose wrinkling as though she had to swallow a comment.

 

“For Arthur, or for the study?” The look he gave her wasn’t warm, far from it, but above all, it was tired. Exhausted. Before Claire could add anything, he sighed and turned away, shoulders still tense.

 

“Find another attending for today. I’ll be here a while longer.” His tone was calm, but final.

 

Claire opened her mouth to protest, to offer her help, but his brief, decisive nod cut off every word. She exhaled shallowly, nodded slowly, and turned to leave. Her footsteps echoed on the floor until she paused in the doorway.

Something made her turn back.

 

“You could rest for a while, too.” Her voice softened more than intended, almost pleading. “Arthur is resting now, he needs a break. And you … you look like it wouldn’t hurt you either.”

 

Lane lifted his gaze to her, his eyes scanning her face briefly, almost as if checking for judgment or insistence. He opened his mouth, as though to answer, then closed it again. The words remained unspoken.

Claire wasn’t sure if he had nodded slightly, or if she had imagined it.

The air around them seemed to thrum with that tiny moment of acknowledgment that went both ways yet never fully landed.

He turned back to his work, back straight, almost stubborn. He wasn’t listening. Or at least, he was pretending not to.

 

****

 

“Dead in what sense?” Claire groaned, shrugging.

 

“I mean, sunken shoulders, dark circles under the eyes … I … you know Lane. What I saw wasn’t even close to the Lane we’ve seen the past few weeks.” Morgan shrugged and scooped up the last of her yogurt, tossing the empty cup into the trash in one smooth arc.

 

“Sounds to me like you’re just looking for another reason to tear his study apart.” Claire let out a short, dry laugh, shaking her head and raising an eyebrow.

 

“No. I’m just saying he might need a break. He -”

 

“Then you should’ve offered to keep working a bit longer. That’s what we’re here for, after all.” Morgan hooked her arm loosely through Claire’s, as if the matter was already decided, steering them down the hall. “At least we’d have something to do now.” Claire let out a long, drawn-out sigh, her gaze drifting along the walls.

 

“Lim’s OR still has room for one more.” Morgan wrinkled her nose immediately.

Claire bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, fully aware of why Morgan was so far from thrilled at that suggestion.

 

“Please.” Morgan rolled her eyes. “That’d be my third hernia repair this month. No thanks.” Claire nudged her shoulder playfully as they walked.

 

“Yeah, sure. I’m sure that’s the only reason.” Claire’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Not the attractive resident assisting her.” Morgan shrugged, not even interested in denying it this time, though her face twisted slightly.

 

“You know what I’m wondering?” Her tone sharpened, and Claire knew exactly what Morgan was up to. Distract, take the conversation as far away from Alex as possible.

 

“Hm?” Morgan studied her from the side, gaze focused but amused. Claire felt the familiar lump in her throat as Morgan let out a drawn-out hum.

 

“The direction you came from this morning.” She made it sound casual, and yet Claire felt her blood run cold.

A brief pause followed, her thoughts spinning, but as she realized she had no idea what Morgan might know, she tried to play it off.

 

“From … the ladies’ room?” Morgan smirked, tugging a little harder at Claire’s arm, her steps lively, maybe a little too euphoric.

 

“Hm. I saw you come in this morning. You usually cross the same intersection as I do.” Claire felt the weight of Morgan’s gaze on her skin, but focused on keeping her steps even, pressing her lips together. “Today, you came from the completely opposite direction.” She closed her eyes for a brief moment, exhaled deeply, and cursed inwardly.

Morgan really did seem to see everything.

 

“Yeah, there’s construction in front of my building. I have to park a little farther away.” That was probably the simplest thing that had come to her, thrown so completely into the deep end, and she was actually satisfied with her answer and the convincing tone of her voice.

But Morgan’s knowing grin didn’t fade; if anything, it seemed bigger.

 

“Ah, I see." Claire restrained the urge to react, knowing it would only fuel Morgan further. But Morgan wasn’t letting up. “I thought maybe you spent the night somewhere else.” Claire clenched her teeth and risked a quick glance at Morgan - instantly regretting it when she met her sparkling eyes.

 

“Oh, it got late with Lea yesterday,” Claire shrugged, deliberately casual. “Then I just collapsed into bed.” Morgan’s eyebrow shot up like clockwork, the teasing tone leaving her lips far from reassuring.

 

“Just wondering in whose bed,” her voice dripped with mock innocence, and Claire hated every second of it. She rolled her eyes.

 

“Will you ever leave me alone with this?” she asked, almost exhausted. Of course, that just gave Morgan even more reason to grin broadly, shrugging casually.

 

“If you ever tell me who you’re sleeping with, sure,” Morgan said, and Claire couldn’t help the twitch at the corner of her mouth as she glanced at her.

It had been exhausting to hear comments like this repeatedly, and in the past, Morgan had been more than a little annoying. But since they’d become friends, Claire had somehow grown to like it - in a weird way.

That teasing, how she always pushed things to the edge … and then a little further.

Once Claire realized it wasn’t out of malice but out of friendship, she had almost come to enjoy it.

 

“You would want to know, wouldn’t you?” Morgan threw her a quick, teasing glance, but when she looked forward again, her eyes sparkled.

 

“Dr. Melendez.” Her voice was bold, so bold that Claire could feel heat rise to her cheeks.

She followed Morgan’s gaze and saw Neil approaching, his eyes a little tired, his smile subtle but warmer than it appeared at first glance.

 

“Morning,” he greeted, lifting one of the two coffee cups he carried, his voice as neutral as possible as he stopped in front of them.

Claire raised an eyebrow, about to say something, but Morgan leaned toward her.

 

“Someone I know definitely did not wake up in their own bed,” she said, pretending to whisper, but clearly making sure Neil could hear.

Claire froze, her eyes darting between Morgan and Neil.

 

“Excuse me?” Neil looked just as confused, his gaze landing on Claire, lingering a little too long to be accidental.

Claire shrugged, as if to say I have no idea what she’s talking about, and freed her arm from Morgan’s loose grip.

 

“I hear you’re finally off the market. Congratulations.”

Neil held her gaze for a moment, that familiar caution flickering across his face, the same one he always showed whenever conversations veered in this direction. Still, his eyes drifted back to Claire, as if he couldn’t help it.

She lowered her head just slightly, eyebrows barely raised, a silent don’t. A quick flash of her eyes, a tiny sidelong glance; clear warning signs meant to tell him not to give Morgan the satisfaction of responding.

 

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

Claire exhaled slowly, a touch relieved, though the tension still clung to her shoulders.

Morgan, as usual, clearly wasn’t done pushing; wherever she had found the audacity to speak to Neil like that.

 

“Are you trying to tell me the rumors aren’t true? You’d disappoint a lot of the nurses if that were the case.” A shadow of an emotion crossed Neil’s face, fleeting and almost imperceptible, but there.

Claire noticed it in the way his jaw tensed and his brow furrowed. Yet it only took him a moment to recover, straightening his shoulders.

 

“You really shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Reznick.” Morgan let out a short snort, half-amused, half-laced with that tried too hard undertone, shaking her head.

Neil’s eyebrow quirked, his expression darkening.

Claire remembered all too well what it felt like to stand under that exact look back then; uncertain, unsure of where she stood with him, yet so thrown off that any thought of resistance vanished instantly.

Now, it drew a wry smile from her. Perhaps because she had finally cracked the code, or maybe simply because Morgan went silent - and that sight alone was amusing enough.

 

“Well, then your little rumor will remain the only one the night-shift nurses spread,” Morgan snorted, almost wistfully, nudging Claire with her elbow.

Claire raised her hands defensively, but not without noticing the sparkle in Morgan’s eyes, the unmistakable sign that she fully knew she was pouring oil on the fire.

 

“Oh?”

That was all Neil said; a single word, calm, but with that barely perceptible pause that made it clear he knew exactly how it would land.

Claire immediately pressed her lips together, stifling a smile, and shot him a dark glare, or at least she tried. His gaze met hers, steady and calm, lingering just a fraction too long, a hint of a smile dancing in his eyes without reaching his lips.

She felt her own resolve waver.

He’s doing this on purpose.

And precisely because of that, she held his gaze a second longer than necessary before deliberately looking away, as casual as she could manage.

 

“Haven’t you heard?” Morgan’s voice was as sharp as before, and the playful teasing that Claire had once enjoyed now started to grate.

 

“Morgan,” she warned, but of course, that only fueled her. Morgan leaned in slightly, eyes sparkling.

 

“While everyone else is busting their asses on the night shift, our dear Dr. Browne seems to be otherwise occupied.” She let the pause drag on dramatically, making Claire roll her eyes, “Apparently, someone else's bed seems to be more comfortable these days.”

Claire let out an annoyed groan, but when her gaze hit Neil, the corner of her mouth betrayed her, twitching upwards.

He was clearly trying hard not to react, though his eyebrows drew together just slightly before softening in a fleeting flicker of amusement. The corner of his mouth twitched, barely enough to count as a smile. Claire could have cursed him right then.

 

“Lucky guy,” he commented lightly, hiding his smirk behind one of his coffee cups.

Claire’s eyes widened, warmth rising to her cheeks, and the glance she shot him had clearly been worth the dangerously suggestive remark - his shoulder lifted barely perceptibly. Morgan was already opening her mouth to retort, but Neil cut her off instantly. 

“Have either of you seen Lane? You’re working with him today, right?” Morgan snorted before explaining the situation. Neil frowned slightly.

 

“And after our little detour to the cafeteria, we’ve wasted a full …,” Morgan glanced at her phone, “… twenty minutes of our shift.” Claire groaned in irritation as well.

 

“So, ER shift,” Neil looked at her, his tongue brushing over his lips, the thoughtful tone lingering in his voice.

 

“I’ve got a heart valve surgery this afternoon, I could use a pair of hands for -” Morgan and Claire both shot their hands up at the same time, each stretching a bit higher than the other. Neil didn’t even finish his sentence; one eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Room 207. You handle the pre-op, then you can assist me this afternoon, Reznick,” he said. Claire opened her mouth to argue, but Morgan’s gleeful applause cut her off.

 

“Eat that, Browne,” was all she said before disappearing down the hall. Claire watched her go for a moment, letting out a soft chuckle.

Slowly, she turned back to Neil, one eyebrow already skeptically raised. This time, Neil didn’t bother hiding how much he enjoyed the situation. Claire rested her hands on her hips.

 

“I know, we don’t want to play favorites,” Neil’s grin widened, becoming downright cheeky. “But that’s already the opposite of favoritism.” He shrugged casually.

 

“Is it?” Claire wrinkled her nose, fighting the smirk threatening to tug at her lips.

 

“Yeah? I mean, I sleep - ” She broke off mid-sentence, letting the rest linger in the air. Glancing over her shoulder, she took a step toward Neil, lowering her voice almost reproachfully. “I sleep with you, and that’s why I don’t get the surgery? Where’s the logic in that?”

Neil’s smirk deepened, drawing fine lines around his eyes, as if he were seriously weighing the question.

 

“Depends on how you look at it.” Claire exhaled audibly, trying to keep her expression serious, but the faint sparkle in her eyes gave her away.

Neil silently handed her one of his coffee cups, as if that were his answer.

 

“What are you up to?” Her voice was skeptical, but her fingers still wrapped around the warm cup he offered. He merely shrugged, gave the tiniest nod, and started moving.

“I thought that was for Lane,” she said. Neil let out a short, dry laugh, as if that had been the most absurd thing she could possibly suggest.

 

“Yeah, right.” His gaze flicked to her, amused, but there was something else there, something that didn’t quite fit his casual tone.

 

“Weren’t you going to talk to him?”

 

“I will, in a bit.” His pace stayed casual, just fast enough not to seem hurried. But when he glanced sideways, their eyes met, a fraction longer than necessary.

“But first, I wanted to talk to you.” Claire furrowed her brow, matching her pace to his, until he stopped at the elevator and exhaled softly as he pressed the button.

 

“And the coffee, is …?” Neil shrugged casually, eyes fixed ahead.

 

“Just … nice.” His voice didn’t match the subtle lift at the corner of his mouth or the way he was doing everything to avoid her gaze.

 

“You’ve never brought me coffee before.” Her tone was more confused than accusatory, which made him glance at her briefly, brow furrowed, a subtle warmth in his smile.

 

“Haven’t I?” She pressed her lips together as she followed him into the elevator.

 

“Not in the hospital,” she corrected herself, and Neil nodded, holding back his reply until the doors closed. Once they did, his posture relaxed, and the grin on his face grew.

 

“I’m just trying to be subtle.” Claire tilted her head, trying to coax a direct answer from him, but Neil didn’t give anything away.

Instead, he slowly slid his hand into hers, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Claire smirked as his thumb brushed lightly across the back of her hand, though she wasn’t about to let herself be distracted so easily.

 

“Taking the surgery away from me was your attempt at subtlety, then?” Neil laughed before she could finish the question.

Even Claire’s half-hearted grimace couldn’t stifle his laughter.

 

“Taking it away? I didn’t know you had a blanket right to every one of my surgeries.” His voice carried self-satisfaction, and Claire exhaled audibly, letting her back sink against the elevator wall while she gently pressed her hand against his.

 

For a brief moment, there was silence between them.

Claire’s faint smile didn’t fade, the flutter in her stomach at his touch, especially in public, was the same as the first time. Even though her heartbeat wasn’t as rapid anymore, the warmth filled her more intensely, the fear in her bones almost completely replaced by something else.

 

“Hm,” she hummed, more in satisfaction than skepticism, though Neil didn’t seem to catch that immediately - his eyebrow did the same thing it always did when he couldn’t read her reaction.

 

“Morgan’s the first to assume something. So why risk it?” He made a face. “With all the rumors floating around …”

 

“All of which she spreads?” Neil smirked.

 

“With all the rumors she spreads, I can hardly tell her that you’re my favorite.” Claire rolled her eyes, though the stubborn smirk lingered on her lips for a second longer.

 

“Awesome,” she muttered sarcastically, which only amused Neil more. He stepped a fraction closer, forcing her to tilt her head up to meet his gaze.

 

“I’ll make it up to you.” His voice came out much deeper than a moment ago, and Claire bit the inside of her cheek to keep her body from reacting.

But Neil didn’t even need to say anything, she had already noticed for herself; the way her grip on his hand had tightened slightly, how her body instinctively turned toward him, her lips curving into a smile.

He might not have seen the warm shiver run down her spine, but judging by the look in his eyes, he already had a pretty good idea of what he was doing to her.

 

“How exactly?” His gaze flicked to her lips, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Bypass? Aortic resection?” Her voice ended in a soft sigh as he stepped closer, the air in the elevator seemingly igniting.

But before she could do anything reckless, like pressing her weight against him so firmly that the air would be knocked from his lungs, the doors slid open with a soft bing.

In the same breath, Neil released her hand and stepped back, not without casting her a glance over his shoulder.

 

“I’ll show you tonight.” And with those words, he turned and silently invited her to follow him again.

 

Claire exhaled deeply, her throat dry and tight, her cheeks probably as hot as the air she’d just been missing.

He’s such an idiot, she thought as she hurried to catch up, pretending he had none of the effect on her that he clearly did.

 

“So … what exactly do you want to talk about?” she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral. Following the lift of his eyebrow, however, proved useless.

 

“Soon,” he replied curtly, cutting off any follow-up questions before they could even form.

Claire nodded shortly and stayed silent the rest of the way, though her mind was already racing.

She couldn’t explain the nervous flutter spreading through her - if it had been something serious, Neil surely wouldn’t have taken the time to flirt with her before dropping a bomb.

But something felt off. Maybe it was the way he’d looked at her; not entirely relaxed, as if something weighed on his shoulders.

Maybe it was just the fact that it had become rare for him to intercept her at work for a private conversation, especially one he clearly wanted kept between them.

Most of the time, they discussed work and personal matters when they met in the evening or at night. Granted, when time was short, they rarely bothered to talk - and the previous night had been no exception. Not to mention that sometime in the middle of the night, she had been more than a little tipsy, ended up in his bed, and had had to get up fairly early in the morning.

Still, her body didn’t fully trust the situation; like the calm before the storm.

 

Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she followed him into his office, doing her best not to prompt him to finally spit it out.

But when he closed the door behind him and made his way to his desk, her brows inevitably furrowed. The pressure in her chest had become unbearable.

 

“What’s going on?” she managed, as he leaned back against his desk; his posture casual, but his muscles visibly tense.

Her fingers pressed tighter around her coffee cup when he nodded in her direction.

 

“I just wanted to talk something over with you.”

Claire threw up her hand in near frustration, letting out a short groan.

 

“Then talk.” Her tone came out sharper than she intended, so she drew in a breath, then exhaled slowly. “You’re making me nervous,” she added, apologetic now. Almost instantly, his gaze softened, his smile genuine.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Claire debated whether to sit down, but the tension in her body already answered the question for her. Her eyes lingered on Neil’s mouth, as if she could pull the words out faster that way.

His hands smoothed along his dress-shirt, his brow furrowing.

 

“I need to be transparent with you about what happened the day I met with Jessica.”

Claire nodded, the words only slowly sinking in.

 

“Okay,” she whispered, her heartbeat rising so violently it seemed to tremble on her tongue.

 

No clear thought managed to break through the haze in her mind. She wasn’t even sure what she should be thinking.

Of course, the first thing that came to her was that Jessica’s pregnancy had shaken him more than he wanted to admit, but surely he knew that wouldn’t have been a huge surprise to her.

Everything else running through her mind was incoherent at best, and her expression must have betrayed it, because when he rubbed a hand along his jaw, he gave a short nod.

 

“To make it short - ” He lifted his gaze, and Claire thought she caught a flicker of hesitation in it. “I told her about you.”

The silence that followed was thick, though Claire only tilted her head slightly.

 

“About us?”

Neil gave a short nod, his shoulders drawing back as if to brace himself.

 

“Yes. I’d already told her at the hotel that there was someone I’m seeing.” His voice was steady, but the pause that followed betrayed a quiet uncertainty. “When she asked me again, I told her the truth.”

Claire’s breath left her slowly, not so much a sigh as an attempt to steady herself.

 

“Oh.”

Neil frowned, not sure what to make of it, and shifted closer.

 

“I know we said we’d keep it private. And I’m sorry.” His tone carried a weight he probably hadn’t intended, softened only by the faintest shake of his head. “But it felt wrong to hide you. Even from her. Especially from her.”

 

Claire’s lips curved, almost involuntarily, and the small, unexpected movement caught him off guard.

 

“Well.” She let out a breath that nearly became a laugh, her gaze dropping to her shoes. “That’s okay.” When her eyes lifted again, they found his immediately, and she gave a little shrug, her smile widening. “I told Lea.”

Silence. Neil opened his mouth as if to reply, only to close it again. His brow furrowed.

 

“You did?”

Claire sipped her coffee, mostly to hide the grin tugging at her lips. She let him wait a beat before humming in confirmation.

 

“Yesterday. At karaoke.”

Neil’s expression softened as he crossed his arms, the faint trace of a smile making him look younger, somehow lighter.

“Didn’t feel right hiding you.”

 

For a few moments, nothing passed between them but the weight of her words. She didn’t even need to look at him to know they were thinking the same thing.

But when their eyes did meet, it said more than either of them could have put into words. That look he so often gave her lately - the one that said he was simply waiting.

He’d been looking at her like that for weeks. Expectant, yes, but threaded with a patience and understanding that almost knocked the breath from her lungs.

From the start, she had known she was the one holding them back, the one who’d needed time. And he, he’d been so sure about her that it had frightened her more than the opposite would have.

But now she understood. It hadn’t been wrong that she needed that time. She had needed it to be certain, to grow into the person she wanted to be.

And somewhere in the past weeks, she had done just that. She finally understood why he had never been afraid when it came to her. Because now, neither was she.

 

“So.” She drew the word out, taking a step closer, letting her heart do that childish thing again; leaping out of her chest, thrumming against her skin, charging the air between them.

Neil’s mouth curved, but his brow remained pinched too tightly for him to look at ease.

 

“The actual problem is Aaron.”

Claire froze mid-step, her breath catching. She was close enough now to see the tension in his jaw.

 

“Aaron?” She set her cup down on the desk beside him, searching his gaze.

Neil gave a short nod.

 

“He knows too. Honestly, I’m not sure how long he’s known.”

Claire tried to recall the last time she had seen Glassman. He’d been so caught up in the whole Shaun and Lea situation that she never would have thought he noticed anything about her private life.

He hadn’t hinted at it, not once, nor had he given any sign.

 

“Do you think he’s told anyone?”

Neil let out a short, almost dismissive snort and shook his head.

 

“I doubt it. We’re the last thing on his mind.” When he caught the question in her eyes, his features softened, a quiet sigh slipping past his lips.

He looked past her, the way he always did when it was just the two of them, and stretched his hand toward her. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for her to feel his warmth.

“I just think we should be careful.” Claire nodded, though slowly.

The familiar lump in her throat was still there, but the pounding in her chest no longer felt suffocating.

 

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” she admitted at last, the words slipping out once his gaze caught hers.

Surprise flickered across his face, but so did that unmistakable spark in his eyes.

 

“Have you now?”

Claire drew in a steady breath, forcing her nerves to quiet, her lips twitching upward before she reached out and slid her fingers between his.

 

“Maybe it’s time we handle this differently.” She hesitated when she caught the confusion in his eyes. “I mean … three people know already, who technically shouldn’t. My therapist knows too. And God knows how many nurses.” Her last remark drew a breath from Neil that was on the edge of a laugh, but nothing distracted him from holding her gaze.

“What would you say if we made it official?”

Silence lingered between them, but Claire already knew his answer; she could feel it in the way he tried, and failed, to hide the curve of his mouth, and in the way his grip tightened around hers.

 

“I don’t know,” he began, his voice dripping with smugness. “Sounds unusually responsible.”

Claire rolled her eyes with a smirk, slipping her hand from his as she stepped back, just in case anyone happened to be nearby.

When she looked up again, his gaze was as warm as ever, but this time it carried something even deeper.

 

“Is that a yes?” she asked, feigning impatience.

Neil played along just as easily, furrowing his brows and shrugging like it barely concerned him.

 

“You know my opinion,” he said, his tone clearer now, the edge gone. His smile widened when he saw hers mirror it. “If you are really sure …”

Claire didn’t need to think about it.

She just nodded, her smile quick but certain. The nerves buzzing through her body only made her grin wider at the thought of finally letting go of the burden of hiding.

 

“I’m sure.”

And she was. That certainty had been quietly building inside her in moments so small she’d hardly noticed them - until now.

She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath for months until now. Not just this breath, but every breath since the night they first crossed that invisible line. Every smile in the hallway, every touch that lingered a moment too long, every almost-confession; she’d been holding them in, afraid that letting them breathe would somehow make them break.

And now she’d said it.

It felt like stepping off a cliff and finding solid ground where she’d expected air.

Her lungs dragged in oxygen so sharp it almost hurt, and for a beat, the fear still clung there;  what if he hesitated, what if the warmth in his eyes cooled, what if this perfect, fragile thing shattered under the weight of daylight?

But the warmth in Neil’s gaze seeped through her, spreading quietly through her whole body. It pushed the fear back, far enough that it no longer felt like fear at all; just a calm certainty, like a steady hand guiding her.

 

Relief hit her like a slow-moving tide, creeping into her chest, her shoulders, her fingertips.

She hadn’t known how much the secrecy had been eating at her until it was gone, until she could imagine walking into a room with him, not as colleagues pretending, but as something real, something that they already were in private.

Her heart was still racing, but it was no longer from the fear of losing this. It was from knowing she didn’t have to hide it anymore.

No more pulling her hand away when footsteps sounded behind them. No more watching her words, weighing every glance. No more pretending that the best part of her day wasn’t him.

For so long, she’d told herself secrecy was protection; that keeping them hidden would make them safe.

But maybe she’d been suffocating them both instead.

 

And standing there now, with his eyes warm on hers, she finally understood.

This wasn’t a risk she was taking. This was the truth, and the truth had been patient, waiting for her to stop running from it.

 

“This is exciting,” he said after a moment of silence, barely trying to hide the joy in his voice or on his face.

And she had wished, more than anything, that they had taken this step sooner.

Even just so she could hold him in that moment, maybe even kiss him. If she had faced her fears earlier, she wouldn’t have had to fight the urge to show him how safe she felt with him, how much she wanted them to work.

But she had to wait.

 

“It is,” she replied instead, her hands gesturing vaguely, as if unsure what to do with all the energy this decision was pumping through her veins.

For a heartbeat, Neil seemed to take the moment just to look at her. No weighing, no questioning, just … being. Pure. A look he usually reserved for the quiet of darkness.

Then he seemed to find himself again, or at least force himself back, breathing out slowly and straightening his back.

 

“So, what’s the plan?” His question ended in a light laugh, as if he, too, were a little overwhelmed by the situation.

Claire reached for her coffee again, taking a long sip, mostly to watch him fidget.

 

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “You’re always the one with the plan.”

Neil, still visibly amused by the situation, shook his head and walked around his desk. Maybe just to make sure they kept the right distance, enough not to cross all boundaries at once.

 

“I mean, do you want to go to HR?” His voice still held affection, but the uncertainty was now a little more noticeable. “Like, right now?”

Claire hesitated. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She was sure she wanted to make it official now, yet the thought of HR still made her face tighten.

 

“I suppose so?” Neil wrinkled his nose before crossing his arms and looking at her expectantly. His gaze wasn’t reproachful, still amused, but Claire shrugged.

“Maybe we can tell our friends first. Morgan, Lim, Park …” Neil raised an eyebrow, giving her a moment to finish the thought. When it became clear she wasn’t going to continue, he let out a thoughtful hum.

 

“So that … they can go to HR for us?” Claire pressed her lips together, trying to suppress a smile, or maybe a frustrated groan; she wasn’t entirely sure.

That was the problem with discussing important things in passing. Part of her knew they should approach this logically, but another part wanted to let her heart lead. Neil seemed to read that thought on her face, the lines around his eyes softening, his smile gentler.

“Claire, we don’t need to rush it if - ” he started, but she interrupted with a shake of her head.

 

“No, I want to.” She hesitated briefly, rubbing her hands together as she considered how to express what she felt.

Yet, once again, it seemed unnecessary; Neil tilted his head slightly, reading her without words.

 

“There are only seven weeks left until you finish your residency. After that, we go to HR. It’ll make things a lot easier for us.”

Claire nodded, though instead of relief, a small pang of disappointment brushed through her. Before she could question it, Neil circled his desk, the brown of his eyes warm.

“That was the plan from the start."

Claire nodded again, but Neil had already reached her. His smile softened, and his hand brushed her cheek for a brief moment.

Reflexively, Claire closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his thumb gliding over her skin.

 

“You’re right,” she whispered, barely audible, if he hadn’t been standing so close.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, as though he were trying to stifle a smile.

 

“I usually am,” he said. Claire let out a soft exhale, part laugh, part groan, yet instinctively leaned into his touch.

Time seemed to pause between them, his gaze locked on hers. For a moment, nothing else mattered except the quiet certainty they both felt.

“Let’s tell our friends,” he broke the silence, the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. Claire raised an eyebrow, surprised, maybe even a little overwhelmed by the warmth in his voice.

 

“Really?” He shrugged, nodding almost imperceptibly.

 

“Yes, you’re right.” Claire’s lips curved into a smile, but before she could say anything, that cheeky grin reappeared on his face.

“What’s the worst they could ask of us? To go to HR?” She snorted a short laugh. “We were planning to do that anyway.” His thumb brushed gently over the corner of her mouth, just before it could curl upward.

 

“Say that again.” Neil paused.

 

“That we were planning to do it anyway?” Claire shook her head.

 

“No, that I’m right.” Neil furrowed his brow, clearly amused. “It just sounds so good coming from you.”

 

She had expected him to throw a cheeky comeback her way, but he didn’t. Instead, he did exactly what she had been waiting for the whole time, and closed the last bit of space between them.

Her breath caught, her body moving before her mind could form a reason not to. She met him halfway, the space between them vanishing until his lips found hers, soft, warm, and devastatingly soft.

Her pulse hammered in her chest, heat spilling low in her stomach until she thought she might forget how to breathe.

Her hand brushed the front of his shirt without thinking, fingertips grazing the warm fabric and the steady beat of his heart beneath it. Every small movement, the way he exhaled through his nose, the almost imperceptible tilt of his head, pressed the moment deeper into her and gave her a taste of what she had been denying herself for so long.

 

Before they could do anything that would cost them all sense, they pulled away from each other.

Slowly, as if the distance itself was physically painful. Just moments after their lips parted, he leaned toward her again, pressing his mouth to hers, but only long enough to make her chase the sensation, never letting her fully grasp it.

When she slowly opened her eyes, he was already watching her; the sparkle in his gaze just as self-assured as the slight smile playing on his lips.

His breath brushed her skin, and the little air she had held in escaped in a shaky sigh.

 

“I love you,” he whispered so softly it could have been lost in the space between them if his eyes hadn’t emphasized every single word.

 

Claire’s heart pounded warmly against her chest; the corner of her mouth twitched before she could fully regain control of her expression. Only then did she realize how much she had missed hearing those words from him; how much she had needed the weight, the sound, the gentle seriousness to breathe fully again.

It was as if her body recognized instantly what her mind was still trying to comprehend.

Warmth spread through her, radiating from the center of her chest to her fingertips, as if every cell in her being could respond to his voice.

Without thinking, she lifted her hand to his cheek, feeling the heat of his skin, the subtle trembling beneath it, as if his heart were beating just as fast as hers.

Claire inhaled, feeling the warmth inside her, the tremble in her fingers, the rapid thumping of her heart; and she parted her lips almost instinctively, the words already on her tongue.

 

“Dr. Melendez - ” Both of them jolted apart, startled, stumbling back.

Claire’s heart raced as nausea swirled in her stomach at the sound of her voice, and she hesitated before turning.

 

Morgan stood in the doorway - how had she even gotten in without them hearing? - staring at them.

Her expression revealed nothing, yet the shift in the room’s atmosphere rendered any further words unnecessary.

Neil’s clearing of his throat sounded almost deafening in the silence that hung between them.

 

“Have you familiarized yourself with the patient, Reznick?” Claire might have raised an eyebrow at the casual tone of his voice if she hadn’t noticed the breathy edge underneath.

She could feel his tension in her own body; her fingers curled tightly, her teeth clenched, heart skipping a beat.

 

“Yep, all set.” Her grin was too wide for the act of feigned ignorance.

Claire wanted to say something, anything to ease the pressure coiling in her chest, but she couldn’t. She just stared at her, wordless, caught in the pull of her presence.

 

“Good. Then be useful in the ER. I’ll pick you up for the surgery this afternoon.” She nodded, moving to leave, but her eyes flicked toward Claire for a split second; and in that instant, her heart sank into her stomach. She swallowed hard.

“You too, Browne. If Lane doesn’t need you today, head to the ER.”

 

Claire barely managed to glance his way, not even when Morgan turned to wait for her at the door. Her throat felt tight, every muscle tense, and she was certain that both of them could read it all in her face.

But when her gaze landed on Neil, a tiny calm settled over her. His arms were crossed, his stance casual, the corner of his mouth tugged upward in that infuriatingly knowing way.

He shrugged, throwing her a this is exactly what you wanted anyway - look. Claire rolled her eyes, a quiet sigh slipping past her lips.

“We’ll talk later,” he added almost casually, but she didn’t look back. Instead, she closed her eyes for a heartbeat, letting her legs carry her toward Morgan.

 

Here we go, she thought, bracing herself as she surrendered to the inevitability of what was coming.

 

---

 

Notes:

So Morgan. Still not sure what's going through her. But, she probably won't let us off the hook that easy 😂
Most importantly - the cuties are ready to make it official? That can only go one way. Things are definitely heating up atm!
Lanes study already showing the downside? Well well well.

Thanks for reading and happy weekend 🥰