[Just a friendly warning from the author - Molly is a pathologist, so there's some mention of autopsies and whatnot,

but if you can watch shows like CSI and such you should be fine. Anyway, hope you like this chapter!]

"Martin," Douglas said to the dazed captain for the third time. When he got no reply, Douglas turned on the intercom and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is first officer Douglas Richardson speaking. I'd like to announce that our captain has lost consciousness, and that we'll soon be hurtling out of the sky. Now of course, as first officer, I could fly the plane, but as the captain's last coherent words were 'Don't touch anything, Douglas, I've got it under control,' I find myself rather honor-bound to uphold them. So ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying MJN Air, and may God have mercy on our souls."

"Wha-?" Martin said, coming out of his daydream. "Oh, Douglas, I hadn't lost consciousness, I was merely uh, dozing off for a bit."

"Much better," Douglas said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

When he got home, tired as he was, Martin was happy to see that St. Bart's was on his list again. He changed out of the pilot's uniform and into his jeans and jumper, although his shirt might have been a bit nicer than usual. Martin put on some cologne, and walked down from his attic apartment, for once not minding the music blaring from his young neighbors' stereo.

I don't know where to start, I'm just a little lost

I wanna feel like we never gonna ever stop

I don't know what to do, I'm right in front of you

As he neared St. Barts, Martin felt his anticipation at seeing her turn into nervousness. "Hi, it's me again. Oh, it's you again. No, that's stupid. Hello, I have another delivery for you. Ugh, pull yourself together, Martin!" he chastised himself as he walked into the morgue.

But all thought left Martin as he walked into the morgue and saw that she had her hand inside a person. A dead person. With their organs in jars on the table behind her. Martin almost keeled over. "Dear God in Heaven, is that-" The doctor looked up, and smiled. "Oh, hello. Hold on, I'm almost done here, I just have close her up."

Martin closed his eyes and took deep breaths as he heard the heavy sounds of metal pulling dead flesh back together. He did not open his eyes until he heard her slide the slab back into the refrigerator, and close the door with a thump. He began breathing again when he heard her turn on the faucet to wash her hands. After she was clean, she walked over to him, saying, "Sorry about that."

"Not-not at all," Martin replied.

"So, do you have something new for me?" she asked.

"Oh, um, yes. Here you go," he said, holding out the box he had retrieved from Klein Medical Equipment, along with his clipboard for her to sign.

Just do it. My name's Martin. What's yours? My name's Martin. What's yours?

"What's your Martin?" he blurted out.

"Beg pardon?" she asked.

Idiot, Martin thought to himself. "I mean, uh, I'm Martin."

"Molly Hooper, nice to meet you."

"Crieff. That's my last name. When I first said my name I just said Martin then you said Molly Hooper, so I thought I should tell you my last name, too.." he trailed off.

"Oh, okay," said Molly, smiling again. "Well, Martin Crieff, it was very nice to meet you. And thank you for the package."

"You're very welcome." Berating himself for what a colossal idiot he was, Martin said goodbye Molly and left, completely dejected. As he made his way up to the ground floor and walked across the lobby to the parking lot, he tried to come to terms with the fact that no one in their right mind would ever fancy a bumbling idiot like him, especially not cute doctors with beautiful eyes.

Which was why he was so surprised to hear her calling his name.

"Martin, wait!" she said. Martin turned around to see Molly running up to catch him.

"Um, Martin-" she began to say.

"Yes?" he replied.

"Would you like to go and have a drink with me sometime?" Molly asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Yes! Yes I would! I'd like that very much."

"Good. How's Friday?"

"Friday's perfect."

"Then, um, I'll meet you here at six?"

"I can pick you up at your place."

"No, no. I like just around the corner anyway. So, see you Friday?"

"Yes. I'll be right here at six o'clock on Friday."

"Good."

As Martin watched Molly walk away, he was grateful to his father for the first time in his life, for leaving him that van that led him to a date with the loveliest woman he had ever met.