Summary: Megan ponders whether it's worth it to have relationships of any kind when Peter surprises her. Set after the latest episode, "Broken Home." One shot.

Disclaimer: Dude, seriously…if I owned Body of Proof, then I would be writing scripts for Season 2 instead of fanfiction.


Worth the Risk

It was silly, really, all this talk about having friends. Been there, done that, Megan thought as she drove home after dropping Lacey off at her father's. Friends only let you down. She had tried having friends—she let her guard down a bit, built trust with her co-workers, reached out to her mother. And what happens? Her boss hooks up with her ex! How's that for friendship?

Megan sighed and tapped her accelerator. Friends just made everything more complicated. Her job never did that—no matter what the mystery was, there was always a solution. And facts. Facts never let you down.

She slowed as the next light turned red. She almost flipped the blinker on her car to turn right, but decided against it. She didn't want to go home. If she did, she'd just sit on her couch with a glass of wine and stew. Instead, she headed straight when the light changed. Perhaps there was something she could do at work to keep her mind occupied.

'You always run to the bodies.' Peter's words rang in her head. Well, yeah. Bodies didn't make trouble for her. They didn't file for sole custody of her daughter, or tell her that she embarrassed them, or sleep with her ex-husband, or a whole multitude of other things. And they didn't think she was completely insane for being upset about it.

Frustrated, Megan banged her hand on the steering wheel. That had been the icing on the cake. Peter, who always understood her when she didn't even understand her self and who was always in her corner, didn't get why she was angry. It was almost as bad a betrayal as Kate and Todd were.

That, Megan thought bitterly, Is where friends got you.


Megan found the perfect distraction upon entering the morgue. A man—now her patient—had been brought in after a traffic accident. There were no signs of foul play, but the Transportation Department required an autopsy for insurance purposes. It could wait until morning, of course, but why bother?

Megan changed into her scrubs and was heading towards the autopsy room when she remembered that she left her hair clip in her office. She doubled back to retrieve it and entered her office when she heard a voice.

"What are you doing?"

Inwardly, Megan cringed. Outwardly, she put on her most nonchalant look and turned to face Peter. "Fatality on the freeway," she replied simply.

Peter glanced away, a smile of incredulity on his lips. "Really? The body will still be here tomorrow."

Megan raised her eyebrow. "So what's your excuse, then?" Turnabout was fair play.

He held up his cell phone. "Left it in my desk. Got all the way home before I realized I forgot it."

"Hmm," was all she said. Hair clip in hand, Megan brushed passed Peter and walked into the lab. Hopefully he would take a hint and leave.

He didn't.

"Is this about Kate and your ex-husband?" He asked softly, though Megan didn't pick up on the tenderness. She snapped her gloves on in irritation as he leaned against the counter.

"What's it to you if it is? You don't see a problem with it," she answered waspishly.

Peter sighed. Slowly, he took a few steps toward her. Megan answered by turning her back. She began setting up her instruments with a bit more force than was necessary.

"You know, I don't understand why it bothers you so much," she heard him say. "But because I know it bothers you, it bothers me."

She let out a derisive snort. "Sure…that 'friends thing' again. Right?"

"Not quite," he said. Megan heard him move closer until he was right behind her.

"Turn around and look at me, Megan," he said quietly.

She used all the restraint she had not to stomp her foot like a petulant child. She did turn around, fully intent on giving him a piece of her mind.

But Megan barely had time to register Peter's hands on her face when he captured her lips. Her brain reeled. When it caught up to her, she could feel his thumbs stroking her cheeks, his stubble lightly scratching against her skin, and his soft lips coaxing hers into reciprocation.

The kiss was slow, tender, and sweet; Megan felt lightheaded when it was over. After a few moments, she met his eyes and smiled shyly. "I'm still mad at you," she whispered.

Peter chuckled as he tucked a stray strand of red hair behind Megan's ear. "You're always mad at me."

Megan punched him playfully in his chest. Then she closed the distance again, this time into a hug.

"Now," Peter said as he rubbed circles into her back. "Do you really want to do this autopsy, or can I take you out for coffee?"

Megan pulled out of his arms and tore off her gloves. Giving him a coy smile, she tossed them into the trash.

He smiled back. "Coffee it is."

As they left the autopsy room, Megan took Peter's hand. She glanced at him and bit her lip shyly. Maybe people were worth the risk after all.