I sigh as I look up from my place at the nurses station, the chart for the last patient I see waiting to be filled in. I rub my eyes and yawn, glancing over at the clock with bleary eyes. The clock ticks by, the seconds hand counting the seconds with each tick as the hour hand approaches eleven. I can only be grateful that it's Tuesday, a night that lives in infamy within the hospital for being the busiest night of the week for orthopaedic cases to the expense of all others.

I yawn again as I rub my eyes, the long hours of the night creeping by so slowly as they drain my energy one drop at a time, until I'm left a stumbling and sometimes short-tempered mess. It is normally fairly slow at this time of night, especially since it's a weekday. Although sometimes things would settle down for a few hours only to pick-up again because of various people and their misadventures with alcohol.

I slowly begin to go over the patients that I still have to check in on before they could be discharged.

Bay two's allergic reaction is still working itself through, but if she's improves as much as she did the last I time I checked on her I should be able to discharge her soon enough, with very strict instructions to see an allergist for testing as soon as possible. I also still need to get an x-ray for the man in Bay seven, the poor man is already in enough pain as it is, the sooner that we can see to him the better off he'll be.

Hmm… anyone else that needed urgent attention?

Oh right Bay 11, child presenting with abdominal pain in lower right quadrant, fever, nausea and vomiting, rebound tenderness. Needed to call paediatrics and admit her, she has all the classic signs of appendicitis, just needed to double check the white count from her blood draw and then ah… ultrasound to confirm. And order pain medications for her… she's been screaming and crying I can still hear her her shrill high pitched cries echo in my ear as I palpated her abdomen. I need to follow up with her and then call paediatrics and… who's on call for paediatric surgery tonight?

Need to get one of the nurses to take care of that and call the ultrasound tech… hmm…

I yawn again as I glance up from the chart I've been busy filling in for the man in Bay seven. Without meaning to I begin to listen to a pair of nurses talking, well gossiping really… they do that a lot when it's a slow night.

"Did you hear about Jackie?"

"You mean about her and that fellow from radiology?"

I rolled my eyes at the nurses and their gossip.

"They think their brands match." I can only roll my eyes at the idea of that, of course they would think their brands matched, especially if they were in love with each other. But so often the brands look so similar it's impossible for a human to tell them apart, one small difference in your half of the pattern here of there. But it made all the difference when it came to the match and to the whole soulmate issue.

I sigh and shake my head, the odds of the brands ever matching were low at best. Three billion people in the entire world, the odds of finding your soulmate were incredibly low, some, particularly the ones who were obsessed would find them eventually but others never did. Some died lonely deaths and others married knowing that it's possible their partner would one day leave them because they would the person with a matching brand.

Others, like me, woke up without their brand on their sixteenth birthday, which is when it appeared in the normal population. I sigh and shake my head, glancing down at the wristwatch that hid my bare wrist. If I ever went without it I got stared at, I could catch sight of pity in the eyes of people who caught sight of my unmarked wrist.

It's because people couldn't imagine having to go without the idea of eventually being able to find the other half of themselves, their brand belonging to only two people in the entire world. They thought of us as lonely because we didn't have that hope, we have no idea who our soulmate are, we can stumble through our days without meeting them, and even if we did we would probably never know unless a mark appears on our wrist.

I sigh and shake my head only to see one of the nurses standing in front of me a chart in her hand.

"Bay nine." I sigh and reach out to tack the chart while handing over the ones for Bays seven and 11. "11 needs an ultrasound and I need a rush on her white cell count also give her some acetaminophen until we can get her upstairs okay? And seven needs an x-ray on his ankle."

"Right away."

"Thank-you." I mumble as I open the chart and begin to make my ways over towards bay nine.

Laceration to forehead as well as a complaint of vertigo. I quickly read over the case. She had tripped because her roommate left shoes lying around and as she fell she cut her forehead open on the side of the coffee table.

I sigh and shake my head. I've seen this injury before many times, but it's often in kids or teens who were still growing and who were a little bit on the clumsy side. I rarely see this type of injury in adult, but it does happen sometimes. At least she doesn't seem to have anything that would indicate a concussion, although I should probably still preform a basic neurological exam.

But still.

Stitches. I sigh and shake my head and smile to myself, there were many reasons that I went into emergency medicine, and one of them isn't because of my love of stitching up cuts. But still the ability to make a difference, no matter how small, is a good place to start.

I glance down at the chart again and make a note to double check on the reason for the vertigo, if it's caused by the same injury that lead to the laceration then that would probably need to be checked up on. But I would need to conduct a basic exam before I could do anything else.

I look down again and try to see if there are any notes from a med student or one of the lower year residents but there doesn't appear to be anything.

So I'm examining her first after the nurse huh?

The other ones must be busy with some of the more "enjoyable" tasks of being in one of the lower years. I look up and realize that I must have arrived at the Bay, the curtain drawn around the bed in a attempt to give the patient some degree of privacy.

I reach pull back the blue privacy curtain that must have been pulled around the bed when the nurse left after bringing the patient into the main area. I smile lightly as I walk into the sectioned off area of the floor, my eyes still glued to the chart in front of me.

"Hello." I say as I look up from the chart momentarily to confirm that I'm in the correct bay before my eyes went back to scanning the chart. I quickly mentally taking note of her vitals, for the most part she seemed normal and stable. I can see a brunette woman sitting with her back turned to me on the bed, her hand holding something, most likely her phone.

"Hello." I repeat again, louder this time, it seems to catch her attention as her back arches slightly as she tense visibly. I simply walk around to the other side of the bed.

The woman in front of me is stunningly beautiful. I freeze for a moment as I simply take her in. She is truly gorgeous.

"Doc?" I hear her say aloud. Clearing my throat quickly I look up at her and smile. I can see why she must have come here for the laceration, it's a rather ugly one at the side of her forehead, with some blood still oozing out of it.

"Hello." I say again dumfounded. Despite the laceration on her forehead she looks beautiful, her eyes, her nose, her body… I quickly avert my eyes when I realize that they have begun to drift down to her stare at her chest.

This is so unprofessional. I look up at her again and I could see a smirk already forming on her lips, a mischievous look in her eyes.

Oh boy.

"Hello"

Why is the only thing that can come out of my mouth hello!

I hear her laugh, a light sound that caused her brown eyes to shine in a way that I found far more endearing then I should have. "Hi. But I believe that we've already covered that haven't we?"

Her voice sounds melodic to my ears, it's beautiful just like the rest of her.

Oh stop it please.

I sigh as I place her chart on the bedside.

I'm overcome with the sudden urge to touch her when I see her hand drift vaguely across the bed, seemingly reaching for her phone.

I reach out, so tempted to let my hand run over the back of her's, to feel the skin that I'm sure is silky smooth and warm. I can't help but wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers over hers. I can see her fidget before she turns over her hand, exposing her wrist and a mark that I should have expected to see, but surprisingly I found myself hoping that it would not be there.

I sigh and force myself to focus, silently berating myself for the things that I'm feeling and the urges that I have to repress, the desire to reach out and touch her, and the desire that I felt for her. These feelings that I'm getting for this woman, this patient are highly inappropriate an unprofessional.

Yet despite this I find myself wanting her and desiring her in ways that are so highly inappropriate. I quickly take a breath and force myself to look up at her, focusing on her eyes, trying not to notice the way that they sparkle when they look at me.

I glanced up at her face and feel myself beginning to smile when she smiles at me, a beautiful smile that causes her face to light up and her eyes begin to sparkle. I can't help but think about how breathtaking she looks when she smiles up at me and I have this sudden and inexplicable desire to ensure that this beautiful smile never leaves her face.

"You're beautiful." I here myself murmur aloud before I could stop myself. I quickly close my mouth and clear my throat.

Stupid.

Stupid.

You're beautiful? Really? Stupid.

She's a patient!

I clear my throat again and avert my gaze for a few seconds before I turn back to the woman sitting on the bed. Instead of mortification or anger all I can see is amusement shinning through in beautiful brown eyes.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled before I stand up and walk over to the wall near the patient and grab a pair of gloves from the box sitting on the wall.

"It's fine. Really ahh…" I could hear the pause in the woman's voice as if she's trying to recall something.

"Dr. Lewis. Dr. Lauren Lewis. PGY-3 in emergency medicine." I say as I turn around. I smile sheepishly as I look at the extraordinarily beautiful creature in front of me. "I must have forgotten to introduce myself…" I quickly glance down at the chart before I see that it's blank.

I sigh as I close the chart and stare up at her again forcing myself to smile. "It would seem that the intake person forgot to take down your name."

"Bo. My name's Bo. It's very nice to meet you Dr. Lewis" I swear I could feel her eyes traveling up and down my body as she speaks, I have to fight against the impulse to turn around and just kiss her on the lips right here and now.

What is happening to me?!

I'm never attracted to my patients, not like this. Not in this unprofessional and inappropriate way.

So why is this different? Why is she different?

Is it because she is the most breathtakingly beautiful woman that I've ever seen?

Stop it Lauren! I tell myself as I put the chart back down at the foot of the bed.

I take a breath and force myself to exhale silently.

All right Lauren this is just like any other patient, she is here because she needed medical attention and you are here to provide it.

Not to jump her bones.

Okay, just don't jump the patient and try to think about how beautiful she is and…

I look up at Bo and smile again as I see her smile at me in-turn. "Something wrong doctor?" I quickly reach out and grabbed her chart flipping it open at random. I glanced back down at her chart forcing myself to ignore the flirtatious tone in her voice.

You need to treat her Lauren. You just need to treat her and send her on her way or admit her to the hospital and send her upstairs so that she is someone else's problem.

That shouldn't be so hard right?

Right?

I glanced down at the chart. The only thing it seemed that Bo has been complaining about is some localized pain to the upper left section of her scalp and some vertigo. I take a breath and forced myself to look back up at her. The only thing that I could see wrong with her is the small cut on her forehead.

"So the only things you're complaining of are some dizziness and some pain localized to the area of the laceration?"

"English please?"

"The only thing that hurts is the cut on your forehead? No headaches?"

"No doc. I'm fine, just took a little spill because my roommate left some of her shoes out." I sigh and shake my head as I mentally file that one away under the more ridiculous reasons for a visit to the ER. Sometimes we get the most serious cases in here but other times we get the most ridiculous.

Roommates who accidently leave their things out is not the worst story I've ever heard and this also wouldn't be the first time that I've heard it. I shake my head and smile at Bo again. "Roommate huh? I'm guessing she loves shoes then? Or is she just messy?"

"Both." Bo replies with laughter and I feel myself smile in turn against my will. I can't help but notice how beautiful Bo looks when she laughs, the way that her eyes sparkle and the dimples that appear when she smiles. She looks beautiful but after a moment I see her stop wincing as her wrist turning towards me at just enough of an angle to see her mark.

I can't help but notice the mark that adorns her wrist, the bold black of her mark standing out clearly against the pale skin of her wrist. I could see the intricate shape, the swirls of black dipping in and out looking almost as if they were streams of water captures on Bo's wrist. There were also circles at the edges of some of the streams, some joined together in a pattern that reminded me of a helix, others simply curling as if they were the crest of waves, a few diagonal or straight lines marred the otherwise beautiful pattern in a way to give it a unique mark, separate from the others. It looks beautiful, and I'm sure that many painters would be jealous of the complex and intricate beauty of the mark she bore on her wrist.

But sadly there is one thing that marred the beauty of the pattern in front of me. The bold black lines on the upper and lower part of the mark that formed her half of the brand, the black line above and below from which the streams and waves started off, the only symbol common to all of the marks, forming an open rectangle over the underside of her wrist.

I can't help but feel a small twinge of jealous for the person who bore the other half of this mark, the man or woman who she may someday come across and be pulled to in the way I'm being pulled to her now. I sigh as I fidget with my wrist watch, turning it over and over my wrist in a nervous tick.

Looking down for a brief moment I fiddle with my watch, lifting it up just enough to reveal the pale milky skin of my own wrist, the smooth expanse of white and the blue bulge of my veins unmarred by the blackness of the mark. The thing that marked me different from all the others, and the thing that made me hide my wrist with a watch.

"You're mark is beautiful." I say as I look up at her, she smiles at me and turns her wrist over to reveal the half completed mark in it's fully glory. Without realizing it I've reached my hand out, an overwhelming desire flowing through me to trace the patterns on the marks.

I could a magnetic pull, driving me to stroke the skin at Bo's wrist, to trace the intricate patters that looks as if they have been put there by the stroke of an artist's brush instead of her body. Before I could stop myself I have pulled off one of my gloves, the loud snap of the material barely registering in my ear as I stretched my fingers, shaking them as they adjust to suddenly being exposed to air once again.

A few moments later my fingers grazed the delicate skin of her wrist. Even with only the smallest and briefest of touches I could fell her skin's warmth; it's smooth, and the softness against my own skin. I could feel a jolt, small sparks against the tips of my fingers where they've brushed against her skin.

I could feel her eyes on me, the urge to touch her becoming greater and so much harder to fight. I look up to see Bo staring at me her eyes focusing on me with a half-lidded gaze, barely concealed desire sparking in her eyes.

I gulped at the heavy look in her eyes and at the feelings that they evoked in me, the feeling of warmth between my thighs, but more peculiarly it also sent my heart into an excited fit, but not at the feelings of arousal she is evoking within me with only a single look. I can feel my heart pounding underneath my breast; it's beat a constant heavy drum in my ears.

Why is she looking at me so?

Why did I feel this desire for her? This draw to her?

Why did I feel this inexplicable magnetism, this urge to touch her, this desire for her.

Why? Of all the people I have ever meet of all the people that I have ever felt desire for, the heat of physical attraction and of lust, why does it feel different with her.

"Lauren." She speaks my name in a voice whispering full of something. My name sounds heady on her lips, as something settles into the pit of my stomach. There is a rightness about the way she speaks my name. I look up at Bo, there's something on my lips, the words heavy on my tongue, my mind not knowing them, but something deep within me does, however no matter how I try to move my mouth they wouldn't come out.

I look down as my fingers come into contact with her wrist, allowed them to rest more firmly against the skin there for a few moments before I removed all but a single finger. One which slowly began to trace out the swirls and the waves of the pattern on her wrist.

"Lauren?" I heard her voice murmur again, and when I look up at her, I can see that her face is all to suddenly to close to mine. This woman that I barely know is so close to me, her face so close to mine, if we were to close the distance our lips would touch in the barest of kisses.

"What am I doing? What are we doing?" I say, much louder then I intended. I take a step back as I tremble in place at the realization of what I nearly dd with my patient? I take a step back and quickly trying to withdraw my finger only to feel a warm hand envelop my own colder one in a tight grip.

"What are you doing?" I asked Bo. I have to squash the urge to panic, to run away, to try and turn this into a scene in order to allow my escape.

I could not though. I needed to treat her and I need to stitch-up her cut before I could pass her off to someone else to monitor her for a little while in case she begins to show signs of a concussion and to keep an eye on her dizziness.

But that warm hand holding my own is distracting, the way it held my finger in place. It's almost as if I could feel the beat of her pulse underneath my finger, it's fast almost as fast as mine.

"Bo you have to let me go, I need to examine you before I can stitch up your cut."

"Lauren take off your watch." The voice is firm and demanding. I could see something in her eyes, a burning desire and something buried deeper. I don't know her well enough to tell what the tone means, but I could have almost swear it's hope.

Hope for what?

Gently I turn my wrist in her grip until I find the week spot before I tug away from her hand, smiling apologetically I'm about to reach over and grab a new glove when I felt a burning sensation in my wrist. Stopping for a moment I frown as I move my wrist back and forth trying to stretch things out.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine just a kink in my wrist."

"I hope you don't get one of those while you're stitching me back together."

"Afraid I'll accidentally sew your forehead to your eyeball?"

"I don't think that's possible. But you're the doctor, doctor so if you need to sew my eyeball to my forehead then feel free so long as I can blame you for all the looks I'll be getting on the street afterwards."

"Feel free to…" I can't finish my sentence as the burning sensation in my wrist turns into a burning sensation, followed shortly by bursts of sharp cutting pain. I gasp in pain as my knees buckle causing me to fall to the ground. I move my good hand down to my wrist and grip it tightly in an automatic reaction to the pain, as if the meager pressure that my grip could provide would offer any relief from the pain.

I have to chock back a scream as another wave of pain travels through my arm and registers in my brain. I can feel the cutting and the burning, it's as if something is being carved into my wrist, the skin split open as something is poured into it before a searing heat fuses it back together.

"Lauren?" I hear my name being called, the voice sounded so distant. I want to respond to it, to reassure the voice that I'm alright that I'll be fine in a few minutes, as soon as the pain in my wrist wears off. But all I can do is let out another chocked gasp as my grip on my wrist tightens, the cool metal of my watch becoming rapidly heated from my body.

I feel warm.

Everything around me feels far to warm.

I try to force myself to stand up, it should be embarrassing, to have a patient see me like this, to have let her see me collapse in front of her. I could hear someone shouting something but what it's I can't make out, all I can focus on is the pain of the cutting and the burning.

Maybe if I could get myself to the bathroom and run some water over the skin there I would be able to cool it down and help whatever's wrong with it. But when I try to stand the only thing I can see is the world spinning, the blue of the curtains and the grey of the floor blurring together into a colourful and shifting mass. I can hear a hacking cough begin as the muscles in my stomach contracted for the first time and I force myself to turn my head away in case I became sick.

But all I can do is close my eyes and hope as I feel another round of coughs rattle my body. The urge to be sick is overwhelming as the pain continues to batter my body. I can feel someone calling for me, a far to loud voice screaming in my ear.

It's all so loud, all of it is so deafeningly loud.

I can feel the pain in my wrist getting worse, the heat that is searing through it, as if something has been set on fire under my skin and the flames were looking for a way out. The pulling and cutting sensation continues to worsen, as if a thousand tiny knives are carving something into my skin while retractors hold the broken and raw skin open exposing it to air and never allowing it to scar over, leaving me open, weak, vulnerable. Bleeding out. I bringt my hands closer to my body, curling in on myself in as I try to escape from this awful pain.

I could feel all to well the hand that has come to rest on my shoulder, my body becoming hypersensitive to touch as my nerves were overcome with pain signals.

"Don't touch me." I try to say, but it only comes out as half chocked garble, incomprehensible even to my own ears. But still even if the message has been communicated I can still feel that same hand on my back, the warm touch that it provides, felt through both my lab coat and scrub top, both a soothing comfort and another point of burning pain. I want to try and shrug it off, but at the same time I can't bring myself to get rid of the little comfort I have in this situation.

I try to force myself to take deep breaths, to make sure that I didn't hold it, but despite everything I could feel the pain only getting worse. Those thousand little knives were carving deeper and deeper into my flesh, the burning following as soon as their tiny blades are withdrawn. Centred on my wrist but it still burned up my arm and caused a dull aching pain to move throughout my body.

I try to force my eyes open, to see what's going on around me as my ears registered harried footsteps pounding across the floor. The squeaking of the linoleum under what sounds like thousands of feet, it's all to close to my ear, I need to see what's going on. I have to see!

But the bright lights of the room only burned my eyes as I opened them, the overhead lights the equivalent of a thousand suns rather then the weak artificial light that prevents us from working in darkness. It doesn't matter to me, all I know is the light is trying to burn my eyes, to render me blind as this invisible force burns my wrist.

I nearly screamed when another wave of pain hit me, stronger then the two before it.

Fire.

My entire body is alight in burning pain, searing fire that travels through my every neurone, as it tries to fry me whole.

I tighten my grip on my wrist and pull it as close to my body as I could, a weak attempt by my body to protect my injured limb, and one that only causes the fire to turn into a sun, the corona my skin, and the core my heart. I clenched my eyes shut as I felt my hand begin to spasm again sending out a super nova of pain as my body tries to rip itself apart from my wrist. A ghostly scream registers in my ears, one that sounds haunted and pained but so far away, an astronomical distance between me and the person who lets out those painful screams, but it has to be me.

It's too much, it's all far to much.

This has to be the definition of agony.

And yet the blessed darkness of unconsciousness would not come. I am aware, although barely still clinging to consciousness as the heat of pain sears through me, bubbling under my skin, the flames starving for fuel desperate to escape from me as I'm desperate to escape from the world.

Finally the buzzing and the sounds that were coming from around me began to fade away, my hearing finally falling away as the ghostly sounds and echoes that surround me finally fall into the oblivion of beyond.

I'm completely unaware of my surroundings now, the only thing I feel is the inferno of agony that my body is enveloped in, the cloak of fire masking all other sensations, all other senses.

I try to bite back another scream when another wave of agony overcame me as I'm sure more people touched me but the only thing that I can register is pain, the searing agony that starts in my wrist and spreads through my body. I clenched my eyes and grit my teeth in an attempt to prevent another sound from escaping me, maybe if they thought their work is done, that I have passed into the great beyond they will leave, and leave me alone.

But instead the fire only increases, the demons controlling the knives stoking the forge they use to sharpen their blades, pound them back into place in order to afflict as much agony as they can before they allow their victims to pass. They are invaders in my body, a process that is working against me.

Another wave of agony, stronger then before. The tiny knives back at work, carving deeper layers into my flesh as they try to mark me, to permanently carve their brutal scars into my flesh, the fires of pain only one of their tools to leave me at their mercy, to control me as the invisible hands work their knives, carving into me, carving into me, carving into my flesh and marking me. They will work until they are done, until I fall into the oblivion of their choice dead from blood-loss, infection, or the fire they pass through my body. The heat their forge and my body their tool.

The only coherent thought they allow is why?

Why me of all people? Why are they doing this to me?

Why...

What is that light in front of me? I wonder as I blink, a small, glowing ball of inexplicable light which brightens the darkness surrounded me.

It hovered at distance for before it whizzes forward, moving up and down around me, a nervous energy seems to emanate from it, one that speaks in rushed movements, and in an inability to hold still.

Without even thinking about it I began to laugh as the excited ball of light continues to zoom around me, darting back and forth over my torso and around my head, the nervous energy transforming into a childish happiness that reflects when it begins to randomly pulsate light, as if it were the only star in the dark night of this place.

"Hi!" I laugh as I reach out to try and catch it, the happiness it radiates contagious.

For some reason all I can is joy and childish enthusiasm as the tiny ball of light continued to zoom around me, pulsing it's light in random patterns of exuberance. I have a sudden urge to chase it just like as a small child would chase a butterfly and in an action that makes me question it's ability to read my mind it zooms around my head once before it takes off into the distant darkness.

Laughing I take off after it.

It's strange that I feel so much happiness at the simple game of chase that the light initiates, triggering a well-spring of locked childhood memories swell forth, a ship rising out of the darkest depths of my memories.

I stop running my joy fading as I remember that this is the first time I've taken off running after anything so uninhibited.

I could see the little twinkling light in the distance stop before it came zooming back to me when it noticed that I've stopped running. The little light zooms around my head, pulsing in a more erratic pattern, a question of if I'm alright to continue to play or if I need to stop tugging at its invisible tongue.

"That's the first time I've ever one something like that." I say to the light as I reach out to try and touch it again. This time it moves so that it hovers at eye level with me for a few moments before it zooms forward and bops me on the head right between my eyes.

Without thinking my hand flew up to my forehead, causing me to whack myself on my forehead where the tiny ball had tapped it lightly, almost lovingly. I look up to see it shaking back and forth, the illumination it gives off flickering erratically in bright pulses of near blinding light.

"Are you trying to say tag your it?" It floats up and down once in response before it takes off again.

Shaking my head I laugh as I began to chase after it as well, but I can't catch it, the ball fading to fast into the oncoming light.

I let out a groan as I blinked my eyes open for a moment before I closed them again trying to escape from the bright lights that were over my head.

Where am I?

What's happened to me?

That's when I notice something has changed, that something's missing.

There's no more fire.

It is faded, gone, almost as if it were a bad dream. The burning sensation of the forges and the cutting of the knives and their wielders are both gone. I smile in relief at the realization as the first wave of exhaustion hits me like a car crashing into my body. I notice that someone has changed the position I'm in, gone is the pressure on my side as I lay on the floor, instead there is something relatively hard underneath me, supporting me in a semi-seated position. I groaned when I hear the familiar beep-beep of the heart monitor, echoing back the rhythm I feel underneath my breast. The sound is coming from nearby I note as I feel something cool dripping into my arm.

Forcing my eyes open again I let out a silent groan when I realize where exactly I am.

"Sleeping beauty is finally awake I see." A familiar gruff voice tease from the nearby and when I roll my head weakly in the direction of the familiar sound of her raspy chuckle I'm met with the sight of a familiar head of blonde hair as piercing green eyes staring back into my own, her eyes soft with worry even as a scowl tugs at her lips.

"Nice to see you too Tamsin." I murmur, my voice horse and my throat aching as I try to talk. Moving my arms slightly I brace them as I try to push myself into a sitting position only to feel strong, familiar hands come to rest on my shoulders and begin to force me back down onto the gurney, with a gentle but persistent pressure. I groan as my arms give away, my aching body crashing painfully back onto the hard, wheeled bed below me.

"So care to tell me why the hospital called me in the middle of the night telling me that you had passed out on the job?" I can only let out a groan as my head falls back against the uncomfortable hospital pillow, the case scratchy against the back of my neck. "Well Lauren?"

I turn my head to the side, my eyes drifting closed as I pant, tired from even the most minor of exertions. "Seriously Lauren what the hell happened?"

I let out a small sigh as I fight back the urge to sleep. I bring my hand up to rub at my forehead only to notice a bandage tapped to my wrist, the normally white cotton soaked red with my blood. So that part hadn't been my pain-crazed mind hallucinating, my skin actually had been splitting apart.

"Laur." Tamsin's voice whispers, lower this time in warning. I roll my head back towards her, my neck aching in effort to hold my head up.

I smile at her weakly. "I'm fine Tamsin."

"Bullshit Lauren. I don't get called if you're fine."

"Would you believe I touched a patient's wrist and passed out because of her beauty?"

"Lauren…"

Wait.

I'd touched Bo's wrist. I had touched her, had been drawn to her like a magnet to it's opposite pole. The bleeding in my wrist and the pain that felt like something was being carved into it.

I gasp when I realized what must've happened. Quickly I bring my good hand over to the bloody bandage covering my wrist and begin to fiddle with the tape trying to undo it. I can feel a hand come to rest against my wrist, gently guiding it away from the bandage.

"You're not supposed to touch that Lauren and you know that. Do you want the bleeding to start again." She speaks to me as if she's talking to a child, trying to explain to them why they shouldn't take off the bandage that they hate so much. Normally I would listen to her and normally I wouldn't fidget with the bandage until I has to be changed, but there's something that I need to see and the only way to do this is to rip the bandage off.

I look up at Tamsin defiantly as I yank my wrist out of her grip, wincing when I feel the needle the IV catheter move within my vein. "There's something I need to see and the only way to do that is to look underneath the bandage."

I could see the look of disbelief in her eyes before she rolls them and begin to pull the scattered blankets up over me. "What did they give you?" She mumbles, her voice barely above a breathe, before speaking out loud "I'm going to go tell the nurse that you're awake. Do not touch that bandage."

I shake my head and decide to ignore Tamsin for now. She doesn't know what happened, she has no idea what I was feeling in that moment. There's something that I have to check on because if my hunch is right then this changes everything.

I quickly move my hand back to the bandage and begin to fiddle with the tape at one of the corners of the rectangular bandage. Quickly I get my nail underneath it and begin to peel the tape back, bringing the gauze with it but before I can peel it away fully I hear an annoyed sound and feel a hand grabbing my wrist.

"What do you think you're doing? Do you want to start the bleeding again?" I ignored Tamsin as she began to berate me for being an idiot. Pulling away the corner of the bandage is all I need to confirm what I have suspected.

Where the skin of my wrist had been white a few hours or minutes or seconds or however long had passed it's now emboldened with a thick black line.

My mark has begun to appear.

I reach my hand out and place it on Tamsin's cheek, forcing her to stop her tirade against my stupidity and her various insults of my knowledge of medicine, as few insults to my intelligence thrown in for good measure. I force her head to turn towards me.

"I know what I'm doing Tamsin, there was something I had to check on, a hunch for what caused the things that happened to me. And I was right." I brought the wrist up into her line of sight, the limp portion of the bandage hanging down and revealing the black of the mark that has appeared on my wrist.

I could see her eyes widen in surprise as she looks down at the mark on my wrist. "What does it mean?" She asks me, her eyes turning towards me wide with shock.

She knows exactly what this means; it's rare but not unheard of.

The idea of it... is surreal, it's just so out of this world, but the proof is undeniable now. It's burned itself into my wrist.

"It means that the woman who I touched, the patient Bo? She's my soulmate. Or at least she was enough to trigger the reaction to make the mark appear."

"So know what."

"We track her down I guess."

"Oh hell no there is no way in hell I am about to get dragged into that mess."

"Well then I guess I have to go and explore and find her on my own. Into the big dangerous city, all on my own."

"Fine."

So know I just have to track her down and see if the mark I have looks anything like hers.

Only problem.

I only have her first name.

A/N: Thank-you so much for taking the time to read this, reviews are always welcome and appreciated as well as constructive criticism and ways by which to improve. Thank-you as well for the favourites and the follows. I can't promise frequent updates but this will get updated and it will not get forgotten about.