A/N: I'm really loving all of the feedback. I'm really loving this story. I'm really in love with Henry. :D Anyway, yadiya, blahblahblah, I own zero.

"Where are we going?" Henry's warm breath as he leaned in to whisper against her ear sent chills through her body, creating goosebumps all over her skin.

"It's a secret," she retaliated in a normal tone, refusing to acknowledge his attempt at sensuality. This wasn't a "date" date. It was an "I'm sorry" apology date. She may have been unable to stop herself from being attracted to the man, but she wasn't about to let go all of her precautions and slip through the cracks on purpose.

As if she hadn't done so already.

When they reached her car in the staff parking area, Henry took the courtesy of opening the driver's side door for Teddy. She had to admit, he deserved bonus points for being a gentleman, even if she did catch him taking the opportunity to breathe in the scent of her hair as she ducked into her seat.

In the moment that it took him to get around the vehicle and into his seat on the passenger side, she questioned her sanity. Purposely putting herself into this situation was something she would commit herself for.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, but Teddy couldn't stand it any longer. His silent presence made her mind restless with questions. Some that she could ask, and some that she could never. Correction: would never.

She settled one that she figured must be safe, "What do you do? For a living, I mean. I don't have the slightest of clues."

Henry gently tapped on the window with his knuckles, "Guess," he told her.

Uh oh. This could definitely be interesting. "Well, if I didn't know about your lack of money and insurance, I would probably guess lawyer."

"Lawyer? Seriously?"

She smirked, "Yeah, you know. The lawyer slash comedian everyone gets along with."

"I'm not a character from a sitcom."

"Okay, seriously? I could see you being a teacher. Or a personal support worker. Someone that works with people and helps them." That was her best guess, though she knew she was probably miles off, "Or a stand-up comedian."

Henry chuckled under his breath, "I'm one of four owners of a Shelter and Aid Center for Battered Women."

Teddy gave him a quick side glance to see if he was serious. He was, if she had ever seen him so. This was obviously something he cared about. "Wow. That's . . . great. How does it work for you, though? I mean, women coming from abusive relationships or tough situations aren't willing to trust a man that they barely know." She was genuinely curious, not trying to put him down or question his own position.

"It really depends on the woman and the situation. Some girls need to talk to a man, whereas some cower and hide if they see me in the hall. Two of the other owners are women, and the last is an older man. We employ six people, and the volunteers are really great. It's a great place. I practically live there, to be honest. That's the worst part about being in the hospital. I haven't been able to work."

"You're a good guy, Henry."

The topic was getting too heavy, and he felt the urge to lighten the mood, "Does that mean you're willing to let go of your hostilities and give me a chance?"

Teddy took a deep breath, "I'm trying really hard to hold onto them, but you're making it quite difficult."

They shared a smile, and continued the drive in silence, each of them alone with their thoughts.

Fifteen minutes had passed before Teddy pulled her car off into a vacant lot, somewhere on a back street that he'd never seen. He could smell the water when he got out of the car. She grabbed a cooler from the back seat, then handed him a blanket and led the way. They walked through the lot to the far side, where it was lined with a thick layer of trees.

It turned out that it wasn't so thick of a layer as Teddy followed a short trail through to the opposite side, where Henry saw a clear view of the water he had been smelling. They were on the outskirts of Seattle; he could tell by the ferryboat dock to their left.

"This," Teddy made a gesture to the area, "Is my favourite place in Seattle. It's a secret, so if you tell anyone, I'll have to kill you."

"You wouldn't kill a dying man," he offered.

"Don't test me."

He laid the blanket out on the grass and took the cooler from her, but his goal wasn't chivalry. He crossed his arms and stood directly in front of her with his arms crossed, feet spread apart so that he was her height. "Why is it that you can show me this place, but you won't let me see in there?" he pointed a finger to her chest, gesturing to her heart.

"I can't fall in love with someone that could leave at any time."

"I'm not leaving, Teddy."

"You're dying!" It came out much louder than she had anticipated, echoing with more emotion than intended. A silent minute passed.

Henry took another step closer to her, maintaining his composure, "You've saved my life to the best of your ability, now let me save yours."

"I don't need a saviour."

"You need me."

He was right, and they both knew it. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek as she stepped in to close the distance between them. Placing a slow, gentle kiss on her lips, he ran his hand down her arm to take her hand. Teddy intertwined their fingers, moving her other arm around his neck to embrace him. Her head resting on his shoulder, she could smell him. It must have been the scent from his clothing, because she knew for a fact that the hospital didn't smell that good. "Don't die on me," she told him, "Please, don't die."

"I didn't plan on it."

x

"You brought strawberry-rhubarb pie for dinner? I thought you were a doctor. Shouldn't you know better?"

"I can't cook, but I can bake. I figured it was better than Chinese take-out."

Taking a bite, he nodded, "You're probably right."

They had sat there looking out over the lake for the better part of an hour, talking, before Henry had finally decided to see what the cooler held within. A bottle of wine and home-made pie. Made for a decent dinner, especially compared to the hospital food.

He finished chewing and swallowing before he spoke again, "I'm starting to wonder: if this is your idea of an apology, how am I supposed to measure up when I do something really stupid like . . . forget our tenth anniversary or accidentally work late when you're throwing a birthday party for our third kid's sixth birthday and there are sixty kids?"

The point that he was making was clear.

"How about we deal with that ten years form now?"

A/N: Review? ;)