His hand instinctively reaches out to touch her but he hesitates at the last second drawing it back and shoving it firmly in his pocket. He doesn't want there to be boundaries between them but right now, in this situation there are and he drops his voice hoping it's enough to get through to her. "You know you did everything right."
A bitter laugh pushes from her lips and she doesn't bother trying to disguise it. She knows that. Deep down she knows that none of this is her fault. She did her part exceptionally and without fault but none of that makes a damn bit of difference now.
"Come on-" he urges, taking in a nervous breath, "you shouldn't be here, let me take you home."
The silence stretches between them and it hits him right in the chest leaving behind a strong dull ache. All he wants to do is help her, take the pain away so she can see what she managed to accomplish but he can't and a strong feeling of inadequacy settles beneath his skin. Screw it. And screw boundaries.
"Amelia-"
"Don't." She inwardly flinches as he retracts his hand but he doesn't move it far, instead curling it over the table next to her fingers. She doesn't want to hurt him but he can't touch her because if he does she'll cry and she can't cry until she's strong enough to accept everything that's happened and move on from it.
"I'm sorry," she swallows the lump constricting her throat, not sure how much honesty is too much. It would be easy to turn everything around, pretend it's him she doesn't want comfort from and deal with the fall out later but that would be a lie. The only way she can see them coming out of this without sending their friendship two steps back is by telling the truth. Even though there's a high chance that will scare him off too.
"I can't-" she tries again, closing her eyes tightly.
Because if she can't see him, if he doesn't move or touch her then she can pretend he's not there and it's like admitting her secrets to an empty room.
"I can't leave because if I do... right now... if I leave this room right now, I'm going to find whatever drugs I can and I'm going to get high and then I'm going to get drunk and I don't want to be that person. I really don't which is why I need to stay here-" she clamps her mouth shut before she can humiliate herself further. She's not proud of her history with drugs but it's an addiction and the most she can ask for is enough strength to keep herself grounded even when it feels like those vices are the only answer. "You don't need to stay. I'm not going to... I'm fine. In here I'm fine but I just need a few more minutes, okay?"
"Okay." There's no hesitation in his response, no judgement or anything that would suggest he's even the slightest bit put off by what she's said.
Because he's not.
She's strong, he knows that. He's seen it first-hand alongside her stubbornness but it takes a different kind of strength to admit weakness and if anything it only makes him respect her more. With a quick flick of his wrist, he angles the stool out from under the operating table. He'd offer it to her but there's already one sat beside her that she's clearly not interested in and rather than make a big deal out of it he sits himself down, clasping his hands together in his lap.
"Okay-" he repeats the sentiment again, adding his intention for good measure, "we wait... as long it takes."
He rests his back against the metal edge of the table, casting his gaze over the room. He trusts her. He knows she could do this without him, the problem is he can't do it without her. He can't in all good consciousness do his job when he knows she's hurting.
He doesn't know what that means yet but he knows it's enough to make him stay.
