The nightmares started not long after he died. Maybe it was because of the seven minutes of that horrible flatline, maybe it was because of the way he screamed when he was finally shocked back to life. Maybe it was because while he had lain there for those torturous 427 seconds, filled with her shrill screams and that screeching heart monitor, she had been thrown into her own eternal living nightmare, her own waking hell that would never end. She had never felt so terrified in her entire life. She hadn't known; how could she? But then she knew. Oh, how she knew. And, for the first time in her life, so was scared to loose someone.

When his intelligent hazel eyes had finally flown open after her eternity in darkness, she had never felt so happy in her entire life. Her hands flew to his terrified face, soothing his strangled scream, whispering assurances and staring straight into his wide-eyed gaze. She only managed a few seconds of touch, according to Camille, but those seconds had been enough. Never would she forget the limitless love and compassion she saw in his beautiful eyes. He had been opened to her entirely, his beautiful thoughts and exquisite emotions spilling over her, and she drank in every drop of it like a woman dying of thirst. Something had been acknowledged in that moment; the thread of connection between them turning to diamond.

She didn't know, she didn't know. But she was beginning to realize, maybe he didn't either.

Ayo kept him bedridden for 38 infuriating hours after he'd woken; she couldn't make him stay still longer. And she couldn't keep Kirsten away any longer than that, either. After his horrid heart monitor had resumed its quick beeping, Linus and Alex had to physically pull her body off of his so Ayo and Kelsey could tend to his injuries. He had burn marks all over his chest from the defibrillator, the state of his heart was of grave concern to the two doctors, and he was in shock from his stint to the land of the dead. However, once his immediate maladies had been addressed, he was determined to get back to the case. He refused to be a patient, to be treated as though he was weak, but Maggie threatened to kill him herself if he so zealously refused his treatment. So he sat in the infirmary bed, Kirsten waiting in silence for its entirety. Once Maggie had finally relented and let him walk, he walked straight to Kirsten, pulling her tight into his arms.

She held him back just as tightly, feeling the comforting reassurance of his heartbeat pressed against her cheek.

They both felt the diamond connection between them, sometimes manifesting itself through silent glances and brushed elbows and knees. Kirsten was beginning to understand the steady rhythm of emotions, passion and anger and fondness quietly working their way into her life. It was small, but noticeable: the bout of sadness after stitching into a teenage boy who'd been the victim of a random hit-and-run, the flutter of her heart when Cameron beamed proudly in her direction after solving a seemingly impossible case, the involuntary clenching of her fists when Maggie dodged questions about a once-again absent Les Turner.

But the diamond connection came with an iron wall, an iron wall in the shape of a small plastic syringe. New to Kirsten as well was the concept of trust, and that little object seemed like a large hurdle to jump over. It seemed to grow higher and higher every day, any mention of it permeated with heavy silences and hurt and angry looks. It grew and grew until one day in the lab, the odd pair came hurling at it with sledgehammers and blazing guns. A quiet, passing mention of his death sent her spiraling over the edge, and it didn't occur to either of them until what was happening until their shouts filled the crowded lab, didn't occur to either of them what everyone else had known for months, didn't occur to either of them that they were both so hurt because they cared so much for each other, each in their own loving, over-protective way.

Then the nightmares came.

She would wake up screaming, the shrill flatline ringing through her head, her fingers scratching against sheets to find a non-existent pulse. At first, she would curl in a ball and scream until Camille ran in, until she finally called Cameron and he sped over in pajamas and glasses, until she could feel his heart beating under her hand. When cases ran long and he was too tired to drive her all the way home, she'd spend the night in his apartment, and often in his arms. Nothing calmed her faster than his chest rising and falling to the pace of her own. His strong arms would wrap tighter around her in the night, as if he were worried it all would have been a dream. She was his comfort just as much as he was hers, and every morning, she'd wake to his contented smile. It wasn't long until she had a drawer in his dresser, a toothbrush in his bathroom; until, fumbling and clumsy, her lips found his.

After that, they announced they were finally a couple, and everyone just laughed and said they'd known for months. Years. It was an inevitable event, two soulmates ripped apart and, like magnets, pulled back together. They grew better, together. He taught her what it was to feel. She taught him what it was to live. They became entwined in every way, never to separate again, their diamond connection holding them together.

So when their diamond connection manifested itself on Kirsten's hand, it was as if it had always been.