The office door was locked.
It was never locked.
Cursing, loud enough for the already irate man in bed five to throw him a few choice words of his own, Michael rattled the door handle impatiently. "What the hell's going on in there?" he demanded, trying to peer through the blinds that had been drawn down over the glass. He never drew the blinds. No one ever drew the blinds. He rattled the door again, and this time almost fell through as the door was unlocked from the inside and pulled open.
Alex was looking at him. Not glaring. Just looking, her eyes accusatory and her disdain barely disguised. Michael regained his footing and stared back at her. "Why was the door locked?"
"I was working. Or rather, I was trying to work." Alex put her hand on her hip. Her other hand was still on the door; she was effectively blocking his way. Despite being pissed off he knew that shoving past her would result in a dressing down from Hanssen and a further point on his already crowded score card. Instead, he folded his arms and tried for a smile.
"No one locks the door. It's just not how we work here." There. He could appeal to her diplomatic side. Hanssen would be pleased.
"It's how I work. And I work here now."
Oh. So it was like that. Michael laughed, not amused. "Alright. I get that. But it's a busy ward, and it's the main office, and other people need to get in here." He wasn't going to give in; she was expecting him to lose his temper and he was not going to give her the satisfaction.
Alex sighed. "Do you need to get in here? Right now?"
"Obviously, or else I wouldn't be trying the door." Michael gritted his teeth.
Alex turned; finally, she moved, but only to allow Michael a glance at the desk that had once been his but was now strewn with paperwork and decidedly feminine nick-nacks. Multi-coloured paperclips spewed forth from a plastic blue holder; a nail file was slotted in amongst the pens. The only thing he could identify with, as she stepped forward once more and blocked his view, was the empty coffee cup balancing precariously on a pile of folders.
"Okay, I get your point, but I need to use the computer-"
"Michael, this is a hospital. There are computers everywhere." She made as though to close the door. "I'm sure you can find one somewhere else; just use that charm of yours."
"Yeah, well, clearly it didn't work on you," he muttered, as the door closed in his face.
"Trouble in paradise?" Eddi smirked, walking past him and around to the main desk.
"I need to use the computer," Michael announced, ignoring her. He looked at the desk. The two computers were currently in use; Eddi having just settled herself behind the closest one. Michael groaned. "This is not happening today."
"Oh, but it is." Eddi smiled sweetly.
"Where's Petrenko when you need her?" Michael glanced around the ward, as though the woman in question was to be found attending a patient or perhaps hiding in the store cupboard. But she wasn't. He knew where she was.
He started for the main door.
"Bailing on us again?" Eddi called after him. "Go and bother Frieda; leave us to it. We don't mind."
Beside her, Sacha looked up from the computer screen. "I've almost finished; five minutes?" he called to Michael's retreating back. But all he saw was the door to the ward swinging shut as Michael disappeared. "I guess not," Sacha commented, frowning.
Eddi shook her head. "Don't worry. It's not the computer he wants."
"No?" Sacha was glancing, unsure, between the office and main doors to the ward.
"No." Eddi grinned to herself, while Sacha shrugged in defeat, and returned his attention back to the computer screen.
…
He took the stairs two at a time up to Keller. He'd started out for the lift thought better of it, not wanting to be stuck in the small confined space and waiting while other people chose their floors before him. As he charged up the stairs, people got out of his way. He liked that. People saw a doctor rushing towards them; they moved. They saw a doctor standing in the lift beside them; well, he was as easy a target as the next person for a good shoving and kicking as people jostled for space.
Arriving on Keller, Michael pulled the door open and did his customary scan of the immediate area. Any sign of Hanssen or Ric and he would turn right around and go back, Alex or no Alex. He did not need hassle from them today. But the ward appeared to be consultant-free; taking a breath, Michael slowed his pace and affected his usual air of swagger and authority as he made his way towards the main desk. As he walked, he noted how quiet the ward was. He frowned. He was almost at the desk and so far he hadn't seen her; if she wasn't there he'd have to come up with a pretty damn good excuse as to why he'd left the AAU yet again, and somehow he didn't think needing the computer would quite cut it under Hanssen's withering gaze. Seeing Malick at the desk, Michael called his name and watched as the other man looked up.
"Hey, Spence, what's up?" Malick stood from behind the computer. "Harassing my staff again?"
Michael snorted. "Your staff? Who died and made you consultant?" He pointed to the computer. "You done with that?"
"Knock yourself out." He paused. "What's wrong with the computers on AAU then?"
"Nothing." Not bothering to sit down, Michael logged in and started tapping his fingers impatiently against the mouse. Malick rolled his eyes but said nothing. As the screen loaded, Michael glanced once more around the ward. "Bit quiet up here today," he commented.
"Normal for Keller. Quiet by AAU standards," Malick corrected him. "This is how you used to work, remember?"
He did remember. And he wasn't sure he liked the memory anymore.
"You miss it?"
Michael realised Malick was still talking. "Huh?"
"You miss it? Keller."
"Do you miss AAU?"
Malick considered this. "Yeah. Sometimes." He folded his arms. "You haven't answered my question."
But he had. His question had been the answer. Michael looked briefly at Malick and then away as his emails loaded on the screen. Malick too looked at the computer, and threw Michael a strange look. "You sure there's nothing wrong with the computers on AAU?"
Michael ignored him.
A door to one of the side rooms opened just then, and both men looked up at the sound of a drugs trolley crashing into the door frame. The noise jarred the relative silence of the ward, and Michael felt a flash of annoyance. "Careful!" he shouted momentarily forgetting his place. He became aware that Malick was frowning at him once more but he kept his attention on the source of the noise as first Frieda and then a young, dark haired guy Michael had never seen before emerged from the side room. Inexplicably, he felt his annoyance increase.
"Who the hell is that?"
Malick frowned and then followed where Michael was pointing.
"Oh, him." He started flicking through the files on the desk. "That's our F1. Milo."
"Milo." Michael suppressed a snort but his derision was clear. Malick looked at him sideways. "Yeah. He's American."
Michael looked mildly offended, while Malick smirked and returned his attention to the files. Michael continued staring across the ward, hardly aware he was doing so until suddenly, Frieda turned and saw him. Cursing, he looked away, only to find Malick giving him a strange look. "What?" he demanded. He'd forgotten exactly why he was there and not holed up in the office on AAU. Alex's office. He grimaced. Yeah, maybe that was why.
"What are you doing up here anyway? Griffin's in theatre and Hanssen's in a meeting; I didn't page you." He paused, seeing that he wasn't getting a reaction. "Spence? Spence, hello?" He waved a file in Michael's face. "What's the matter with you?" He laughed to himself. "Losing out to a woman has really taken its toll- hey, I was kidding. Spence." He watched Michael walk away from the desk without so much as a withering glance. "Michael! Come on, I was kidding." He rolled his eyes, lowered his voice. "But, if you want to prove the point then…"
Michael wasn't listening. Eyes still focussed straight ahead, his stride purposeful; he headed round the desk and towards the far bays, where Frieda was busily explaining a procedure to the enraptured Milo. The young doctor was so entranced by what she was saying that Michael was thrown when a burst of laughter erupted from the pair, causing Frieda to almost double over. Suddenly unsure of himself, for the first time in what seemed like forever, Michael hesitated. He slowed down, now debating whether or not to interrupt them and almost anxious to avoid being seen. Hovering, exposed, in the middle of the ward, he had nowhere to hide and no one to hide behind. It was almost a relief when she turned and saw him, her eyebrows raised in such a way that implied she'd known all along that he was there. He found a smirk and plastered it on his face, hoping she wouldn't see through him but knowing that she would and feeling a sense of…powerlessness, almost, at this realisation. Damn, what was happening to him? He stepped forward.
By now, Milo too had looked up. Upon seeing that Frieda's attention was no longer on him, the dark haired, dark eyed junior looked around to find what had taken Frieda's notice. Michael felt almost smug as he extended a hand. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Michael Spence, surgical consultant on the AAU."
Milo shook his hand, bemused, but it was nothing compared to the customary eye roll from Frieda.
"Milo Wilson, F1."
"Yes, Mr. Malick was just filling me in." Michael indicated the ward around them. "How do you like it here at Holby?"
"Y-yeah, it's great so far. This is my second day." He sensed he was being tested, but the look in his eyes indicated that he did not understand why. Michael nodded. "I hope Dr. Petrenko here is making you feel welcome." He resisted the urge to smirk, and avoided Frieda's withering glance.
At this, however, Milo perked up. "Oh, yeah, Frieda has been very helpful." He flashed a winning smile, and Michael was damned if he didn't hear a giggle emanating from Frieda who was standing somewhere to his left.
Frieda. So they were on first name terms? And he could make her laugh after only two days? Michael didn't know why, but these two pieces of information bothered him. A lot. He clenched his jaw. "Yes, well, you're working with the best," he almost spat, but then he remembered himself, and flashed what he thought was a rather brilliant smile of his own. This time, however, there was no giggling, but a rather uncomfortable silence.
"Well, uh, I guess I'll leave you to it." He hated to bow out so early but with the pair of them staring at him; Milo confused and Frieda amused, he'd lost his nerve and suddenly Alex's office with Alex's overpowering perfume and overbearing manner seemed infinitely preferable. "Milo. Petrenko." Of course, he couldn't miss fitting in one final try. She was Petrenko to him. Let the new boy try that and see how she liked it. Michael turned on his heel before either of them could say anything more.
He passed Malick at the desk. "Leaving so soon?" he called. Michael glared, recovering his cool with every step he took. Malick just laughed, and there was something in that laugh and in his tone of voice that told Michael he had been witness to everything. But he couldn't worry about that now. He had to get off the ward before Hanssen, or worse, Ric, saw him…or-
"Mr. Spence."
-or before Frieda caught up with him. Michael cursed under his breath. "Petrenko," he said, turning at the last minute, a smile firmly in place.
"What are you doing?" Her arms were folded, her head tilted to one side in a way that both drove him mad and made him want to take up the challenge she was so readily throwing him. Or maybe he'd thrown first. He didn't know. He never did, anymore, not when it came to Frieda.
"I am trying to get in the elevator to go back to AAU."
"Why were you up here? Did you think I can't be left alone without your supervision for more than five minutes? I have been gone three weeks, Michael. I think I am doing okay without you."
She was accusing him. Or was she? Or was she goading him on, pushing him? Her eyebrows were raised, anticipating his response. He laughed, uneasy. He could call her bluff.
"Oh, yeah, don't flatter yourself Petrenko. I needed some notes."
"Then where are they?"
"Where are what?"
"The notes. I don't see any notes."
Still he couldn't read her. He found himself mirroring her pose; folding his arms, he went for a mock glare and decided to pull rank simply because he couldn't think of another way to handle her. "I'm a consultant, Petrenko. I don't have to explain myself to you."
"Don't do that," she said. She dropped her hands to her sides. "You were checking up on me, weren't you? Or pretending to, but really you were hiding from Alex."
Damn. Michael laughed again, hating his inability to respond to her. "I don't need to hide from Alex." On the defensive. Great. As if she hadn't anticipated that, he thought wryly, seeing the barest hint of a smile on her face.
"Sure you don't. She got your office, your job, and I like her so what's not to hide from?"
He just stared.
"Michael, really, it was great to see you." She folded her arms once more, the smile now fully formed on her lips. "But you don't have to be so jealous."
"Jealous? I'm not jealous! Of what? An F1?" He snorted. "Come on, Petrenko."
She pursed her lips. "I wasn't talking about Milo."
"Huh?" He could feel himself falling. This was out of his control. He'd called her bluff and she'd called his. He took a breath, nervous.
Frieda smiled, almost laughing. "Alex. I was talking about Alex." She nodded. "You'd better go. I'm busy here, Mr Spence." She started to walk away, her eyes not leaving his until she'd fully turned and was half way back up the corridor.
He watched her go. Jealous of Alex. So that's what she thought? He felt himself relax somewhat. He could deal with that. And he could put his little slip of the tongue down to stress, being put on the spot. Really, who the hell else could he have thought of with her staring at him like that? Nodding to himself, Michael punched the button for the elevator.