AN: Here is a one-shot I came up with after beginning Season 2 of Hart of Dixie. A few warnings... the characters will be out of character. I'm sorry if this bothers you. My only excuse is that I have never written for this series before so I have not learned the delicate intricacies that are their personalities. I also know next to nothing about medicine, being a doctor, or chemistry so I do apologize for any wrong information. I did do some research, into both CPR and hydrofluoric acid, so I believe that the information I provided is at least semi-accurate in those cases. I know for a fact that hydroflouric acid, when combined with potassium iodine, will explode. Either that or my high school chemistry teacher didn't know what he was talking about. If you notice anything majorly wrong please leave a comment with it and I'll be sure to fix it.

Also, please do not flame. If you have a problem with the story, leave constructive criticism instead so that I can improve and not just be left wondering where it went wrong.

Finally, this is meant as a father/daughter or friend relationship between Brick and Zoe. However, you can read it as Brick/Zoe romance if you so wish. For a reason I cannot explain I have thought Brick/Zoe would be a cute couple ever since the first episode.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The series is owned by The CW and creator Leila Gerstein. I make no profit on this whatsoever.

When New York surgeon Zoe Hart came to Bluebell, Alabama she hadn't expected to enjoy it. She had thought it would be a chore; a stepping stone on her way to becoming the surgeon she had always planned on becoming. She hadn't planned on meeting George Tucker, or finding out her true parentage. She hadn't planned on falling in love or having her heart broken. She hadn't planned on getting to know her patients, listening to their problems, and eventually growing to care for them.

No, she had always believed that to be a surgeon she had to keep a set distance away from her patients. This was probably why when a patient died in the hospital she found it didn't bother her very much. Yes, she was disappointed if she failed to save a life, but that was it. There was never anything more than that. But things were different now. Now she cared too much to not let it get to her. Zoe wasn't even fully aware of the changes until one day when everything became painfully clear.

She had been minding her own business, passing by the high school on her way back to the office after taking a lunch break at the Rammer Jammer, when Rose ran towards her shrieking.

"Zoe, you've gotta help!" Rose cried, her eyes wide and frightened behind her glasses.

Zoe cocked her head. "What's wrong? Did something happen?" she asked, mentally kicking herself for the stupid question. It was pretty obvious something had happened.

"Oh please help! It was an accident! I'm the only one – blood – can't believe it's happening – horrible," Rose broke off with a sob, her story lost amidst her hysteria.

Frowning, Zoe tried to make sense of what the girl was saying. "An accident?" Her frown deepened. "Did someone get hurt?"

Rose nodded vigorously. "M-Mr. Matthews," she whispered. "O-our s-science teacher. He…" She seemed to choke on the word. "He was h-helping me with an experiment. T-the beaker exploded."

Zoe's eyes widened. "Where is he?" she demanded.

"I-in the c-classroom. I had to g-get help," the teen stammered out.

The doctor nodded. "Alright. Lead the way."

Rose turned on her heels and ran back towards the school, Zoe close on her heels. Once again Zoe couldn't help but curse her poor choice in shoes. Fashionable they may be, practical they were not.

When Zoe reached the classroom she understood why Rose was so hysterical. The body of who she presumed was Mr. Matthews lay still on the far side of the room near the window. She rushed towards him, dropping to her knees beside the body. Her trained eyes looked him over quickly. There was dark red blood oozing from his face and chest, a stark contrast to his deathly pale skin. Shards of glass were imbedded into his flesh, some seemingly going in very deep. She bent down to listen to his breathing, which was rapid and shallow. She glanced up at the student who was wringing her hands a few feet away.

"How long as he been like this?" she asked, keeping her voice measured so as not to alarm the girl.

Rose shook her head jerkily. "I-I don't know. I-I can't—can't remember."

Zoe mentally sighed. That was not the answer she had wanted to hear.

"Is he going to be alright?" Rose asked softly.

"I'll do my best," Zoe asked honestly, not wanting to get the girl's hopes up just in case something did happen.

Turning her attention back to Matthews she took a deep, cleansing breath to ready her nerves. First she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it away from his body, being careful not to jar the glass. The skin around the injuries was discolored, probably from the substance in the beaker.

"Can't worry about that now," she muttered to herself. "I have to stop the bleeding."

Rose began to cry again. "I-I'm so sorry. This is m-my fault."

Zoe didn't look up at her, too busy searching through her medical bag for a pair of gloves and her tweezers. "Don't blame yourself Rose. Accidents happen sometimes," she told the girl reassuringly. "Now please go and call an ambulance."

"O-Okay…"

Zoe pulled the nitrile gloves onto her hands and, with practiced hands, began to slowly pull the first piece of glass out. She was both glad and worried that Matthews was still unconscious. On one hand if he was awake and thrashing this would be more difficult. On the other, he wasn't nearly as responsive as she would have liked. Once the glass was out she quickly sprayed the wound with antiseptic and covered it with a gauze dressing. She wanted to do more, but with her limited supplies this was all she could do until she got him to a hospital.

She repeated this with the remaining glass shards, growing increasingly concerned when he still did not wake. His breathing had slowed, but remained shallow, and his pulse rate was sluggish. Some of the wounds were deep but hardly life threatening. There had to be something else. She examined the wound area again, taking closer look at the discoloration which appeared to become more severe. Patches where the burns were the worst seemed to be necrotizing as well. She ran through her mental database of medical facts, her eyes widening when she reached the right one.

"Rose?" Zoe called sharply, summoning the girl back into the classroom.

Rose entered, keeping close to the door. "What is it? Is everything okay?" she asked, calmer than before.

"I need to know what was in the beaker. It's very important."

"It was… hydrofluoric acid," Rose said after a pause. "I accidentally added a drop of potassium iodine and it exploded." She looked nervous again. "What's wrong?"

Zoe took a wavering breath. "Nothing. It's fine," she lied. "Go wait in the hallway."

Why didn't I think about that earlier? She thought angrily. This is really bad.

Rose hesitated. "But—"

"Rose please!"

The girl flinched. "O-okay."

She went into the hallway again and Zoe released a breath. She had to do something now or else this man could be in deep trouble. She was more than aware that hydrofluoric acid was deadly when exposed to the skin. And with open wounds? Not good at all. The bleeding seemed to have slowed to a crawl so that was at least some good news.

In the hall Rose was panicking. Although her older friend had tried her best, the girl could tell that she was lying. Tears pricked her eyes again but she pushed them back. Zoe was a good doctor; she wouldn't let anything bad happen. Right? There was no guarantee that the doctor would be able to save the teacher. Rose bit back a sob and took her phone out with shaking hands.

"I've gotta stay calm," she whispered to herself. "Zoe needs help."

What she really wanted was for the ambulance to arrive, but that didn't seem to be happening any time soon. Mobile was a good thirty minutes away, and the girl feared that by then her favorite teacher might be gone. So, she did the only thing she could think to do. She typed in a number and pressed send. The phone rang, and rang, and rang. With each ring Rose grew more and more frantic, wondering what would happen if he didn't answer. Finally, she heard the click as the line connected.

"Hello? Brick Breeland," his voice echoed.

Rose sighed in relief. "Dr. Breeland! It's Rose Hattenbarger."

"Oh hello Rose. What seems to be the matter?"

"It's Zoe—Dr. Hart," Rose explained.

She could almost hear the annoyance in his voice when he spoke. "What has she done now?"

She shook her head, realized he couldn't see it, then exclaimed, "Nothing! I'm the one who did something. She – I – please help. Mr. Matthews is hurt real bad. Zoe's trying to help but…" She trailed off, not wanting to think about what might happen.

She didn't need to say any more. "I'll be right over. Are you at the school."

"Uh-huh. Please… hurry," she begged.

"Hang tight."

The call disconnected and the girl sagged. Rose had never been particularly fond of Dr. Breeland, but she knew that in an emergency he was a good person to have around. Not only for his medical expertise, but also for his ability to calm others. An ability that, she hated to think it, Zoe didn't have.

Back in the room Zoe was oblivious that her partner was on his way over. She was far too busy trying to save Matthews's life. She didn't want him to die; not because she cared about him, but because she knew it would hurt Rose. Rose would surely keep blaming herself for what happened, and Zoe didn't want the girl to have to feel guilt over her teacher's death should he take a turn for the worst.

A couple of times the man stirred, but did not wake. And not two minutes after she sent Rose from the room the thing she had been dreading happened. He entered cardiac arrest. She cursed and immediately checked to see if he was breathing. He wasn't. She cursed again. She began CPR with rescue breathing; two breaths and then thirty chest compressions. Listen for breathing, repeat.

She was on the second set when the door flung open and in stormed Brick, followed quickly by a trembling Rose. Zoe glanced up quickly in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" she asked confused, switching to counting the compressions mentally. 17, 18, 19…

"Miss Hattenbarger gave me a call. What's his status?" Brick asked, not wasting time on pleasantries as he knelt across from her.

"Not—" Zoe broke off, looking towards Rose. 21, 22, 23…

Brick followed her gaze and winced. He hadn't realized the girl had followed him in. She didn't need to see this. "Rose, please wait in the hall."

Her eyes widened. "But I—"

"Now please. Don't make me call your momma."

Rose released a sigh and nodded, making her retreat and shutting the door behind her. Brick turned back to Zoe.

"Well?" he asked.

Zoe took a deep breath and once more did the two required breaths. Both doctors listened, but nothing. She shuddered, knowing the chances of his survival weren't good.

Brick pushed her hands out of the way just as she went to start the compressions again. "Let me," he directed. "You're shaking."

The former surgeon looked down at her hands, and sure enough, he was right. "He has hydrofluoric acid poisoning," she informed her senior partner.

Brick let out an expletive. "How?"

"An accident," Zoe explained. "An experiment gone wrong." She looked towards the door. "Rose can't know, okay?"

"I don't appreciate," Brick said between compressions, "you telling me what I can and cannot do."

"Please?" she begged. "I don't want her to know. It was… she was the one who caused the explosion."

"So that's what happened…"

"Yeah…"

The elder doctor checked for breathing again but still found nothing. No breath, no pulse, no nothing. He leaned back tiredly. "I think she'll know now anyway."

Zoe felt hot tears prick her eyes but blinked them back. "I wish…" she trailed off.

He nodded. "Me too."

The paramedics arrived moments later to find the two doctors sitting on the floor in silence next to the body of Preston Matthews.

It was hours later that Zoe found herself in her office at the clinic. The police had asked her and Brick to answer question after question about what had happened. Rose was devastated to learn of her teacher's passing and had immediately entered into a state of shock. Not wanting the girl to suffer through any more pain, Zoe had asked the police to hold off questioning her for a day or two; until she was calmer and had more time to process. She figured the only reason they had agreed was because she was a doctor.

Zoe closed her eyes, her head on her desk. That wasn't true and she knew it. The real reason was because Brick had insisted. She hadn't been too surprised to see the kind of pull the man had even with the police. It was a bit disheartening.

The worst part was watching Brick comfort Rose. He had held her until she stopped shaking and then had stayed with her until her mother came to get her. Zoe hadn't been able to do a thing. The doctor tapped her fingers against the desk unconsciously as she sighed. "I wasn't necessary at all," she murmured. "Not at all…"

For the first time in quite some time Zoe wondered if things would be better if she just left Bluebell and never came back. Certainly things would be better had she never come in the first place. George and Lemon would still be together. Lavon wouldn't have lost popularity with the town due to her mistakes. Wade wouldn't have been hurt when she rejected him. Brick would finally have the practice all to himself just like he had always wanted. Preston Matthews would still be alive. There was no guarantee for that of course, but if Brick had been the one to get there first maybe he would have been able to save the teacher before it was too late.

A quiet knocking drew the former New Yorker away from her self-pity session. Opening her eyes she sat up quickly, straightening her blouse. Brick stood in the doorway to her office, looking at her silently with an odd expression on his lined face. It was a mixture of pity and… something. She idly thought that he was attractive, in that older sort of way. She mentally shook her head, pushing that thought away.

"What is it?" she asked him somewhat rudely. "What do you want?"

Brick was silent for another beat before jamming his hands in his pockets; a gesture that seemed entirely out of place coming from him. "May I come in?"

Zoe blinked then nodded. It was unusual for him to ask to enter her office. She would often scold him, saying he had no right to just barge in. He would only scoff, clearly thinking that he had every right since the office should have been his in the first place. Now she watched as he approached her desk, dropping into the chair across from hers. In the dim light the desk lamp provided she could see that he looked haggard, older than he had that morning. Her eyes softened.

"So… long day…"

He nodded ever so slightly. "Very," he agreed. He went silent, just sitting there across from her, looking at his lap.

Although the younger doctor sympathized with him, and knew she looked just as tired as he did, she wasn't in the mood to waste time trying to decipher his silence.

"I know you must be angry that I wasn't of more use today, but if you came in here to give me a lecture just get to it already," she accused, her voice lacking any real feeling.

At her words Brick's head shot up sharply. He stared at her with what appeared to be anger. "Is that what you think?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Zoe swallowed, suddenly regretting her choice of words. She had poked the bear, but there was no turning back now. "You get on my case about the smallest of mistakes. Why wouldn't you do the same about this?" She shook her head. "If it had been you, or Harley, he wouldn't have—"

"There's no way to know that for sure," Brick interrupted. "There's no guarantee he would have lived if… circumstances had been different."

It was clear to her that he had softened his words, though she had no idea why he would bother. She laughed softly, the sound containing no humor or warmth. "Yeah. Well. It's still my fault. If I had paid more attention, realized what chemical he was hit with first, I could have…"

"Maybe so," Brick consented. "But what's done is done. Beating yourself up about it won't do anyone any good."

Zoe knew he was right but couldn't find it in her to agree with him. He was always on her case about something, so now that he was being – dare she say it – downright friendly, she just didn't know what to do. Finally she sighed.

"I'm sorry, you're right." She ran a hand through her hair. "Do you… do you think Rose will be alright?"

Brick gave his head a small shake. "I don't know. But she will need a friend to lean on." He gave her a pointed stare. "One she can count on to help her through the trauma."

Zoe nodded in agreement, before seeing how he was looking at her. Her eyes widened. "Y-you mean me?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Of course I do," Brick responded with a hint of annoyance. "Who else would I be talking about right now?"

Frederick Dean? Magnolia? Surely anyone but her. Zoe frowned. "But I don't know if I can."

"And why not?"

"I just—" Zoe closed her mouth, not wanting to admit the truth to him. He seemed to sense this because he changed the subject.

"Are you cold?" he asked her.

"U-uh, no, not really," she said, surprised by the question. "Why?"

"You're trembling."

Zoe looked down at her hands. Ever since Matthews's death her hands had shook, despite her best efforts to stop it. She had even forgotten about it until he brought it up. "No… not cold," she said quietly.

Brick reached out across the desk to grasp the hand that lay there. She started, and was barely able to keep herself from yanking her hand back in shock. She gazed at him, while he in turn kept his eyes focused on her hand. When he did at last meet her gaze she looked away, ashamed.

"Sad, isn't it? For a surgeon to get so riled by death?"

He shook his head a bit sadly. "Just proves you're human. It would be sadder if you weren't bothered at all."

Zoe considered his words. "I guess that's true," she acquiesced. Her turned her hand over so that their palms touched, not really sure why she did. "My father's like that," she whispered.

She could hear Brick swallow. "Why do you think that?"

"All my life he's told me that a good surgeon doesn't care," she explained. "That the medicine is all that counts, and that personal feelings should stay out of the practice of it."

Brick scoffed. "What a load of hog wash."

Zoe smiled faintly. Her fingers unconsciously laced with his as she elaborated. "I guess that philosophy extended to his personal life as well. At least when it came – comes – to me. Did you know that until this year I hadn't seen him since I was still in high school?"

She heard his sharp intake of breath. "What? What kind of father doesn't see their child?" he muttered, more to himself than to her.

She shrugged. "Wish I knew. Even now he doesn't seem to really care." She laughed softly. "I know why now of course."

"Harley," Brick said quietly, not asking.

Zoe nodded. "Yep." She blew out a breath. "He just couldn't stand spending time around his fake daughter I guess."

"Zoe…"

"Oh, it's okay though. I guess I can't fault him for it," she went on quietly. "Not everyone can handle news that you're not your child's real parent."

"Zoe," Brick said again, louder this time. Still she ignored him.

"Then again, not every child can handle their father abandoning them without explanation."

"Zoe," Brick gripped her hand harder, forcing her to stop and look at him. "I can't fathom why your father did what he did. There's no justification for that. But I do know you can't blame yourself for it either. You do know that, right?"

"I do," she said rather unconvincingly.

"Do you?" he prodded.

She shook her head helplessly. "I… I'm starting to," she confessed pathetically. "For the longest time I thought that if I had done something different… if I had been a better daughter, smarter, kinder, whatever, than maybe he would acknowledge me again."

"You're fine the way you are," the man told her quietly.

Zoe shrugged. "You know, I have horrible bedside manner." She laughed again, though it still sounded off. "I'm no good at comforting other people. I'm worried about whether or not I'll be able to help Rose." She looked at him. "You're a much better doctor than I am," she admitted. "I've known that ever since I got here. I just didn't want to admit it."

Hearing this Brick was silent, not that she could blame him. She had just divulged more about herself than she had ever done to anyone before; even her old boyfriend. She smiled self-deprecatingly.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to get so touchy-feely on you. I'm sure you have better things to do than listen to a mess like me complain about my issues."

Brick's face hardened and she prepared herself for the unknown. He might leave, or he might scold her, who knew? She had never been good at reading him very well. Surprisingly he did neither.

"I'm different, not better," he told her quietly but forcefully. "You're a very talented doctor yourself. In a few more years you might even be better than me."

Zoe didn't know if he was telling the truth or if he was just trying to make her feel better, but it didn't matter. His encouragement and his praise were the proverbial straws that broke the camel's back. The floodgates opened and tears streamed down her face.

"Thank you," she uttered, crying.

The next thing she knew she was being pulled up from her chair, around the desk, and into his waiting arms. Her eyes widened in shock at first but she quickly relaxed into his hold. He was warm and comforting. She was grateful for the solidity and feeling of safety that he provided. Under different circumstances she may have laughed at the irony. Zoe brought her arms up around his back to return his hug as she buried her face into the soft cotton of his shirt. She needed this and realized with a start that he must as well.

A part of her hoped that things would be different between them after this but she knew better than to actually believe that would be true. Tomorrow things would be back to normal. He would be Dr. Brick Breeland, and she would be Dr. Zoe Hart, pain in his ass. Still the hope remained that – even if it wasn't tomorrow – one day they could be friends and not just reluctant colleagues. But for now…

The two stayed where they were, standing in the embrace of the other for quite some time, until finally they were ready to part.

End