A/N: i honestly don't quite know where i'm going with this. what i know is, i always wanted to explore the doctor side of jack but found the medical stuff too troublesome. but here goes nothing.

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1. Thank God it's Monday

Balancing a tall cup of mocha latte on each hand, with folder files clipped under her left arm and a bag slung on her right shoulder, Rose finally manages to push the glass door open and slide into the office.

Her face, which only moments ago glowed from the weekend's rest, scrunches up into a worried frown as she spies the man sprawled on the couch by the receiving area. She shakes her head and purses her lips in disapproval and, she had to admit, mild amusement. For a moment, she seems to consider waking him up with a lecture which begins with an enumeration of healthy sleeping habits and ends with some pointers on getting a life. Her better and kinder judgment makes her decide against it; God knows he deserves a couple of hours to himself.

She proceeds to place her things on the table and go about her morning routine, which comprised of depositing patients' files on his table, updating his schedule, checking his e-mail and the like. When she finishes, he's still asleep. The only apparent development being that he is now snoring. Absently, she worries that the coffee she bought for him might get cold.

Just then, as if by some metaphysical cue, the phone rings and echoes through the almost empty office.

The man jumps slightly at the sound, shoulders visibly shaken at the sudden intrusion.

Scurrying to her desk, she manages to catch the call on the first ring. "Good morning, St. John's Neurospinal Department, how can I help you?"

While trying to keep up with the conversation on the line, she apologizes with a soundless "sorry" to him.

He's already sitting now, leaning forward with his elbows propping him up on his knees. His left hand glides over his face while his other hand waves dismissively at her as if saying it's okay. He heaves a sigh. He entertains but promptly discards the option of lying down again.

It's the start of another week; a dozen or so patients to be operated on, a total of 30 clinic hours to be completed and a ton of paperwork to be inked. And rather than relish the quiet, early hours of a Monday morning, he actually thinks that he should get a head start.

In his last ditch effort to bring himself into full consciousness, he places the heel of his palms against his closed eyes and starts to shake his head from side to side, trying to claw off any remnants of sleep.

He's distracted by a pinch at his back. He removes his hands from his face and eyes a pen rolling towards his feet. Eyes squinting, he glances at Rose who is pointing to his office. In between "ah yes" and "of course", she exaggeratedly mouths the magic words: "Coffee".

Before he takes off in pursuit of Coffee, he responds with a thank you and a smile.

It's warm and honest, the kind she rarely gets from him these days, and it makes her smile back.

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It's been about ten to fifteen minutes since he had dashed into his office to get to his coffee. Now, with the cup half empty and the caffeine working on his brain, he's starting to get anxious. He browses through the profiles and histories distractedly. He isn't usually nosy, in fact, he never is. But he is a scientist and he feels the overriding need to validate his hypothesis.

Craning his neck, he takes a curious peek at the lady at the other room.

She's still on the phone. Talking more animatedly now. Someone she knows? No, she's a professional; she doesn't take personal calls.

He lip-reads her saying, "I'll be sure to tell him." Okay, so it's for me. A client, maybe? Can't be; client calls don't usually take that long.

Ergo, someone she knows but not personally and not well enough to drop the formalities here and there. Who could that be?

Of course!

It's someone I know.

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"You knew that was her, didn't you?" She says, standing by the door, hands on her waist.

Uh-oh, that is never a good sign.

"Yeah." He says curtly as he pretends to read through a patient's history. Oddly, the file is routed to the Ophthalmology department, specified under Dr. Bailey's. He reads on, anyway.

Jack Austen. Age 6. Had a vertigo episode while playing soccer. Complains of blurry vision and constant headaches.

It was rare that files got misrouted to his office so he just brushed it off, not wanting to get some hapless nurse in trouble. He made a mental note of dropping by Bailey's office to return the file. He figured that the kid just needed prescription glasses; too much TV at too early an age is his initial diagnosis.

"And…" Apparently, he's supposed to say something.

"And what?" However, as always, he is clueless as to what it is. So, he just carries on reading. Easily gets off balance…

Meanwhile, she keeps talking, "…And what's your excuse for this year?"

"Actually, I'm fresh out of those. Hoping to re-stock for the next year, though. So if you have any ideas…" He keeps his head ducked, eyes following the letters, words and sentences on the file, intent on not pursuing the unpleasant direction this conversation has taken.

"…I know I'm in no position to tell you this but you have to talk to her sooner or later…"

It's much like zoning out, with Rose's voice droning in a seemingly far distance. Multi-tasking never was his strong point so between listening to Rose and listening to himself think, he was bound to do one better than the other. He finds himself focusing on a few disjointed words on the file. Vertigo. Blurry vision. Headaches. Off balance.

And somehow, his coffee-addled brain draws a connection among the far-flung dots.

"You have to do something about this, Jack," she says, popping his thought bubble.

"I know, I know. I'm working on it, Rose." She was right; he had to do something.

He had to figure out how to lift this case from Bailey with only a hunch as his leverage.