As he sits alone in his apartment, allowing the emotional events of the day wash over him, one word seems to resonate in his mind.
Bonds.
DeShawn, his patient who couldn't hear or speak a word, unfairly beaten at the hands of those meant to protect. First chance he gets to communicate, his hand gestures and anxious expression convey the concern for his girlfriend Brooke, in the next room.
On the surface these two people couldn't be anymore different, yet when seen together the bond they share; so obvious.
Abby in the day to day business of life continues on attending to her patients as she did when their second year of residency began. Only now he catches a glimpse of her every so often stopping briefly, placing a hand on her stomach and smiling as if sharing a private joke with the life growing inside of her.
A subtle gesture, he knows speaks to the bond that has formed between mother and child.
His eyes burn, the lump forming at the base of throat aches as he takes a deep breath.
Ray looks down at the black shirt in his hands. Just a short while ago, he had risked what was left of his friendship with Neela, to let her know that she mattered to him. A part of him knew that she had always mattered to him.
Risked it all for what, though?
When she had told him she was going to Abby's that very night, he had accepted her decision; he wasn't happy, but he had accepted it. Then she stood before him, handing over his long lost shirt, explaining rather wistfully how she had liked sleeping in it, all the while unable to meet his eyes. As she left the apartment, he could no longer bear to ignore what had been left unspoken and took a chance.
Now, sitting in the dark alone, staring down at the remnants of the bond so dear to him, he silently wonders how something so strong and profound could be...broken.