Gabrielle stared at the computer screen. She couldn't quite remember exactly what it was she was meant to be typing up, or who she was typing it for. She'd already stayed an hour past everyone's leaving time, trying to organise the forest of paperwork that she'd found on Frank's desk. At the moment, she knew at least she was supposed to be writing up a table of some sort. Maybe a timecard?
Rubbing her eyes, Gabrielle saved what little she'd managed to do – In contrast to the behemoth pile of work, anyway – and shut down the computer, certain that she'd see the white and blue computer screen every time she shut her eyes after staring at it for so long.
After tidying the room up a little bit, she shut and locked the office door and went to check the main desk before leaving. To her surprise, she found Amy, who looked as if she had been doing work as well.
"Oh hey, Gabrielle," Amy said tiredly, looking up form a huge pile of prescription medicine boxes, all labeled and most in plastic cartons labeled with letters of the alphabet.
"Amy," she said, "what are you still doing here?"
"Oh," Amy said, "Uncle Frank walked in on Bart and I, and even though he's denying it, he got Bart to organise all this," she said, pointing to all the boxes, "and I decided to take over for him after we'd been here for about half an hour." She smiled tiredly, her usually sharp eyes looking drowsy.
"Shows how much organizing this place needs, eh?" Gabrielle laughed, tucking back a loose strand of hair. "I've been here for an hour too, organising god knows what from Frank's desk." They laughed together, a sweet noise after such a horribly busy day filled with upset patients, a yelling Frank, and emotionally draining decisions.
"You looked so tired today, Gabby," Amy remarked, "what's up?"
Gabrielle shook her head. "It's nothing, really. I've just had Claire over for a while, and I keep staying up so late, listening for any noise in case someone's trying to break…" she trailed off, slightly too late, remembering that Amy didn't know about Claire's psycho ex.
"Break in?" Amy asked immediately. "Who would be trying to break in? And what's that got to do with Claire?" Her eyes locked onto Gabrielle's, who finally managed to break away from Amy's penetrating stare.
She shook her head firmly. "Nothing, Amy, don't worry about it. It's just…" she searched her mind quickly for a fabrication, any at all, that would save her from the truth. "It's just that lately, around the area that I live, there's been someone pinching things, breaking into house, you know the drill. I was just thinking about that a lot, and hoping I wasn't putting Claire in danger."
Amy's eyes narrowed slightly, as if she knew that Gabrielle had been about to say something else, but shook her head and sighed tiredly. "Well, I'm going to rock on back home," she said, a bit of her attitude returning. "Meetcha tomorrow, eh?"
"Yeah," Gabrielle said. "I might get going too." Together, they packed up the last of the boxes and put them back where they went. Amy waved to Gabrielle and moved off to her car, but sat in it, idling, as Gabrielle got into her car and pulled away.
"It'll be okay, I'm sure it will." Amy whispered, recalling the conversation she'd heard yesterday.
"I can't bear Steve touching me," Claire whispered, the words sounding as if they were ripping her throat.
"That is a perfectly natural response," said Gabby, but that was all Amy had heard before Bart had called her to see another patient.
She was raped, Amy thought, laying her head on her steering wheel. She must have been. That's why she couldn't bear Steve touching her.
"I'm sure it'll all be okay," Amy repeated, reassuring herself.
Then she drove away, back to her warm home.