A/N: I thought I was finished with this, but it wouldn't quite let me go.

This one is from Micah's perspective, so please let me know what you think of the POV change.

"Almost made you love me, almost made you cry, almost made you happy, babe, didn't I, didn't I?
You almost had me thinkin' you were turned around, but everybody knows almost doesn't count.
Almost heard you saying you were finally free, what was always missing for you, you finally found it in me.
But you can't get to heaven, half off the ground. Everybody knows, almost doesn't count."
-Brandy

Trust is the foundation of all relationships, both inside and outside of the hospital. Patients trust us to know what is wrong and to do our best to fix it. As doctors, we bear the weight of that trust and work to honor it. Outside the hospital, we choose the people in our lives carefully and entrust ourselves into their keeping. That leap of faith is always terrifying, because to let someone in past your defenses is to risk it all. And to have that trust shattered never leaves the landscape unscarred.

Micah Barnes had never anticipated when he woke up this morning that the day would go this spectacularly to hell in a handbasket and it was only noon. He'd already had his hands full when things were going well, between his mother, his sister, and covering for Dr. Bandari's absence.

He'd thought meeting Emily would be the bright spot of the morning, but even that was too much to hope for today. He'd known almost immediately from her face, her tone of voice, that whatever was coming next was not going to be good. But he'd never expected the blow that blindsided him.

Worse than having no chance at all was to have it in sight, to have leapt, and fallen that much further. Shock was quickly replaced by anger tinged with a sickening sense of betrayal, all capped with the irrational need to just lash out at something. He was glad his pager had gone off before he said something he couldn't take back.

No time to think of that now, the patient in 302 had just started vomiting blood and was now being prepped for surgery to repair a bleeding ulcer. Lock it all down deep, until later when there was time to process. Thankfully, the intern on the case was one he barely knew. The last thing he needed right now was trying to deal with Dr. Dupre, Dr. Koppelson, or God forbid, Dr. Collins. He'd be hard pressed to keep from taking a swing at Will right now. Never mind that Will was almost a foot taller, he was sure he could still get a couple good blows in. Not that it would really change anything, but at least he might feel better for a few minutes.

Surgery was the one place where he could leave the outside world behind for a little while. Where the needs of the sick or injured, outweighed and distanced his own. When the job was finished, he would feel the aches and pains, the hunger, the thirst, or a thousand other little things as he came back to himself, but for now he gladly welcomed the escape from the real world.

When he got out, he took a few minutes to grab a sandwich while reviewing all of the cases that Dr. Bandari's interns were working on. He noticed that Dr. Owens had been overseeing a motorcycle crash injury from the ER and had just scrubbed in with the orthopedic specialist, Dr. Carroll. He let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding, and was thankful for the momentary reprieve.

Micah found Dr. Dupre, who had some questions on her patient's workup. He reviewed the chart, recommended some more bloodwork and an abdominal ultrasound. She didn't say anything, but given the knowing glance when he came in the room and the way she had studied him while he read the chart, she clearly knew what had happened.

The rest of the day passed in a relatively uneventful blur of paperwork and patients. He only saw Emily once, as he passed a patient's room. She was mid-conversation with the patient, but he heard her voice falter as she saw him through the open doorway. He looked away, determined to push it all down until he could deal with it enough to go back to a strictly professional relationship.

Easier said than done, since it felt like there was a great gaping hole in his chest. He had tried before to shut her out, but she had a way of slipping through the cracks in his defenses, with her vulnerability and adorably artless charm.

The end of the shift was both a relief and a curse, since it meant he could no longer keep his mind too occupied to think about her. He changed back into his street clothes and headed down to check on his mother. He didn't know how he was going to tell her about his change of fortune with Emily, but as he approached the room he could tell by the dimmed lights that she had fallen asleep. He had skimmed through her chart at the nurses' station, looking for any changes since this morning, but she was holding steady for the time being. He pulled her blanket up, tucking her in, and brushed her cheek with a kiss before heading out for the night.

Micah flipped through the keys on his ring to find the one that unlocked his mother's front door. He came by from time to time to check up on the place for her when she was in the hospital. He was hoping to find Liz at home, since she was staying there for the time being, but she could be at any one of a dozen friends' houses or somewhere downtown.

He had grown up here, gone off to college and med school, but been glad to be able to settle somewhere near home for his residency. He wandered into the kitchen, finding a beer in the back of the fridge. He twisted the cap off and took a long pull at the bottle. This room was a snapshot of his youth. Memories of playing under the table while his parents fought in the other room, later watching his mom sit at the table trying to sort through all of the bills on her own, barely making ends meet. Dinners around the well-worn table, filled with love and laughter when they were younger but eventually strained with Liz's outbursts of adolescent rebellion, something she still hadn't yet outgrown. Leaning against the counter, he saw the collection of pencil marks along the door frame that marked his and Liz's growth from small children to teenagers. He left the bottle on the counter and wandered into the front room.

Running his hand over the glossy top of the piano, he grimaced at the thin film of dust. His mother never would have let that go had she been here instead of the hospital. Sitting down at the bench, he lifted the cover to the keys. Tentatively, he touched a single key, listening to it ring clear. Still in tune.

Both he and Liz had taken lessons, but she had never had the patience for practicing. He, on the other hand, had at first played to please his mother, but had come to enjoy it in the end. His mind flashed back to the night of Emily's birthday party and the unrestrained joy on her face while she was playing the cello. It was enough to make him flinch, thinking of how he had started to fall for her that night.

He shook his head. Getting up briefly, he lifted the lid on the bench and shuffled through the music inside, selected one, replaced the lid, and sat back down. He started to play the nocturne slowly, hesitantly, at first before he found his rhythm again. It was a haunting melody, sad and plaintive, one that suited his mood at the moment. He was tired of thinking, tired of the weight of his mother's illness, just tired. He gave into the rise and fall of the melody and let it speak for him.

"Don't quit your day job, Mouse," said a voice from behind him as the last notes hung in the air.

Startled, he took his hands off of the keys. He had been so caught up in the music that he hadn't even heard Liz come in.

"Didn't know you still played, big brother," she said as she sat down on the bench next to him, smelling faintly of something floral that didn't quite mask the cigarette smoke.

"I don't and don't call me Mouse"

"What's wrong? I got Mom to agree to the study. Don't I get some credit for my master plan?"

"The methods leave something to be desired, but I'm glad she decided to go ahead with it. It's had some promising results so far. It's the best shot she's got."

A long moment passed. He could hear the tick of the kitchen clock, a car passing on the street outside.

"Micah, I'm scared we'll lose her," she said in a small voice.

"Me too," he said quietly, putting his arm around her back. She rested her head on his shoulder.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes.

"How was she doing today, I didn't get much time to stop in and check," he asked.

"Pretty good, all things considered. Once we got through her general disapproval of my life choices, she kept talking about being a grandmother. Oh, and she wanted me to find someone named Emily, but the nurse said she was busy somewhere, so whatever. Who's Emily?"

He stiffened at the mention of her name. She sat up and looked at him more carefully. "Is she the blonde from yesterday?"

"Yes"

"C'mon, Mouse, out with it, I'm not blind. Is she your girlfriend or something?"

He didn't even know how to answer that. "Or something."

"Fine, don't tell me. I'm sure the nurses will tell us tomorrow."

He groaned inwardly, knowing it was probably only a matter of time before the rumor mill caught up with him.

"It's complicated, Liz. I thought there was something there... but I guess I was wrong." He couldn't quite hide the pain in his eyes.

His sister was not known for her subtlety, and she typically delighted in pushing every one of his buttons until he was ready to strangle her, but for some reason she let this one lie. "You staying here tonight, Mouse?"

"No, I'm still on call and my apartment's closer to the hospital. You going to be ok here by yourself?"

"God, just because I caught the stove on fire once when I was 15, you and Mom still think I'm going to burn the place down. Yes, I'll be fine. See you in the morning, Mouse."

"Night, Liz" He kissed her on the top of the head as he got up.

He picked up his messenger bag by the front door, made sure she locked up as he left and headed back to his place.

He showered, threw on a clean shirt and a beat up pair of sweatpants that had managed to last through college and med school. His pager was still thankfully silent, but when he checked his phone, he saw that Emily had left him a voicemail. He was half-tempted to delete it. He didn't need to hear why she had chosen Will over him and how sorry she was about the whole mess.

Curiosity got the better of him and he hit play.

"Micah, I... I know you probably don't want to hear my voice now, but I couldn't leave things the way we left them." Her voice wavered and then hiccupped a little. "This is why I should never leap. I made a colossally stupid mistake. I let my leftover emotions for Will lead me down the wrong path."

His unruly heart fluttered with hope, but he pushed it down.

"For what little it's worth, it was a one-time thing. Will isn't the one that I want. I'm so very sorry, Micah. God, I wish I could undo it. But I can't..." A pause and a faint sniffle. "I... I just wanted you... wanted you to know the whole story. I know I don't deserve it, but I hope you can forgive me somehow."

The message ended. Micah hung up the phone, put it down on the nightstand. He turned the light out and lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling. Emily made a mistake? She wasn't with Will?

It was too much to process. She had betrayed him and right now he couldn't see past his anger. Granted, they certainly weren't dating, but they had started something. And to know that while he was getting his sister settled in the house last night that Will had been enough to make her throw caution to the wind, had touched her, had... it was enough to drive him crazy with jealousy. How could she just throw it all away?

And yet, this was Emily. Emily, who wore her heart on her sleeve, who he had thought would have been the last one to ever deliberately hurt anybody.

He just couldn't think about this any more tonight. He tossed and turned before falling into fitful sleep.

The sky was charcoal grey, wind whipped, rain driving down and soaking him. He was in a ship in the middle of an endless sea, tossed like a child's toy in a bathtub. He was frantic, bailing the rising water in the bottom of the boat. The sea cracked the boat in half, swallowed him whole. He struggled against it, fighting with every ounce of strength. He was almost lost, drowning, until he felt the scrape of sand below him. Drug his exhausted body up the beach, collapsed in the surf. The sky lightened, turned clear blue, the winds died away. He opened his weary eyes enough to see a woman's face, her blonde hair a halo in the sunshine. She bent and kissed him, long and slow and sweet. She felt like coming home. He reached for her...

He jolted awake, groaned. Just a dream. He got up, got a glass of water, went back to bed and finally managed to get back to sleep, not sure of what tomorrow would bring.

Love is the trickiest test of trust that there is. To fall in love is a dance of give and take, choosing to lower your walls enough to let someone in. And once you've let them in, oh, the damage that they can do, even unintentionally. Repairing that damage and rebuilding that trust is a daunting task. But, like broken bones, sometimes the healing process is enough to knit the damaged areas back together again.