Day 48:

When you make a commitment to something,
someone, a job, a career, a family member,
a lover, you have to be ready. Ready for whatever
may come at you. Whether it's easy or hard,
how much you love it, or hate it, you made a promise.
So just close your eyes, and enjoy the ride.

"You know, they're called lunch breaks for a reason."

Melinda's almost buried beneath a mountain of paperwork in her office; her wrists are beginning to ache from writing and her fingers are tiring from all the typing. When she'd imagined her life as the Head of Cardiothoracic Surgery, she did not envision the workload that came with the pay raise.

"Phil."

He's standing in her doorway with a bag full of take-away boxes in one hand and a cross between a pout and a frown on his face. She sighs and stands up behind her desk, feeling the muscles in her back tense slightly as she does. Sitting in one position for too long tends to do that to her.

His frown morphs into a smile as he steps into the room, shutting the door behind him and making his way over to her desk.

"Sorry, it's all bit cluttered in here," she says, looking down at the mess littering her desk, trying to figure out how on earth she could shuffle the files around to clear some space.

"Well, we'll just have to make do with the floor until you decide to get some more furniture," he says, laughing, and she's convinced that he's only joking, until he sets the food onto the ground and sits down right beside the bag.

Stepping around her desk, she finds that Phil's casually lounging, resting back on his arms with his legs straight in front of him, and sighing softly, she kicks off her shoes and joins him.

"I can't believe we're sitting on the floor of my office, eating lunch," she says, trying to remember the last time she'd done something like this.

He just shakes his head, reaching into the bag to pull out a couple of boxes, taking off the lids and setting them down between them. He can't take his eyes off her as she eats, but she hasn't seemed to notice his lingering gaze.

"Melinda," he admonishes as she reaches up and pulls a file off her desk. "Stop working and just take a break."

"I have a surgery with Stark this afternoon, and if I don't finish all my paperwork; it'll just keep building up," she sighs, opening up the folder and beginning to read through the documents inside.

She doesn't turn to him, concentrating on the pages and words in front of her, but she can feel him inching closer, and within moments he is directly by her side, his arm pressed up against hers.

He reaches for her abandoned spork and spoons up some cous-cous, carefully lifting it up towards her mouth. She rolls her eyes at his insistence, but opens up her mouth anyway and allows him feed her.

"You have to eat," he says quietly, feeding her another sporkful. "Or I'll worry."

She tenses up at his words, and takes a deep breath as she closes up the file and places it down onto the ground beside her. He stops in his movements too, letting the spork drop back into the box as she turns to face him.

The only thing she can see in his deep blue eyes is concern, concern for her, and it ignites feelings within her that she can't explain. She wraps her arms loosely around his neck as she buries her face against his shoulder, feeling the warmth radiate from his body.

He appears stunned for several seconds, unmoving, until she moves even closer beside him and closes her eyes against his skin, humming softly. He lets his arms wrap around her waist and he can feel her warm breath just beneath his ear.

"You're distracting me from my work," she mumbles, but the tone in her voice is not one of annoyance, but one of fondness.

"Good."


So, she hasn't managed to complete all of the paperwork that she hoped, but she can do it later on in the day, and through the evening if need be.

The surgery she has with Tony 'pain in the behind' Stark now takes precedence, and she can see him joking around with the nurses as she scrubs in.

"Melinda. I thought Natasha would be joining us, but it seems we've been given an upgrade."

Bruce is scrubbing in beside her, offering a friendly smile.

"Nat's doing a heart-lung transplant in OR 2. But I could say exactly the same for you Bruce. Stark told me Bobbi was out sick; I'd assumed Vic would be replacing her."

"She's clipping an aneurysm in OR 6."

"I was surprised that Stark needed someone from Neuro in here," Melinda says, nodding towards the operating room.

"Bobbi couldn't get the entire tumour out before his heart began to give out during the last surgery. Natasha pulled the plug and she had to close him up," Bruce relays, shaking the excess water from his hands and holding them up in front of him, letting the liquid run down his arms.

"We gave him two weeks to recuperate, and I'll try to get the rest of it out today so Tony can start the reconstruction. Judging by the state of his heart, it's likely he'll need at least another two surgeries after this one," Bruce says, gaze downcast as he heads into the OR, Melinda closely behind.

The nurses assist them into their gowns as they each pull on a pair of gloves.

"Bruce. Ready for the party?" Tony exclaims as they make their way over to the operating table.

Their patient is lying there, eyes wide open under the bright lights. He doesn't seem afraid, but children are generally the most resilient.

"Sure am. Ready to be tumor free, kid?"

The boy smiles and nods the best that he can in his position.

"When you wake up, you might even be as good looking as me,' Tony says as he stands over the kid, cracking his knuckles.

His statement is as egotistical as they come, but Melinda can see that it's not for his own benefit, but to help settle their patient's nerves, however little they may be, before they put him under.

Bruce waves the anaesthesiologist, Dr. Sitwell, over, and together they ease a small mask over the boy's face.

"Okay Ace. Can you count backwards from twenty for us?"

His breathing slows down and his eyes flutter shut when he gets to sixteen. Tony pulls at his gloves and lets them snap back against his skin, before looking around the operating room, up into the viewing area, and then back down.

"Alright people. It's a beautiful day to, well, make people beautiful."


The surgery is a success, and Tony manages to complete stage one of his reconstruction before they call it a day and stitch the kid back up. His heart rate had plummeted only once, towards the end of the surgery, but Melinda had just signalled one of the residents to administer a dosage of epinephrine and all was well.

They had finished earlier than scheduled, which she took as a fortunate turn of events, because she still has a weeks worth of paperwork to complete before more and more pile onto her desk.

She feels energized after the surgery; like she's taken a shot of caffeine, without all that coffee nonsense, and speeds through all the files and documents, surprising herself when she manages to finish before eight in the evening.

It's officially after work hours now, and with all her paperwork completed and nothing left to occupy her at the hospital, she could very well pack up, hail a cab and go home. But Phil had mentioned he had a three hour surgery that started at six in the afternoon, and something compels her to go watch.

The viewing area for OR 1 is empty, deserted, and the only source of light comes from the operating room below.

Phil's finishing up with a bowel resection on a three year old, and is speaking to the interns crowded behind him, likely explaining the procedure he is following. His hands are quick and steady, and he pauses after each step to give the interns an opportunity to have a closer look at his methods.

After completing his task, he places the medical instruments in the metal tray an OR nurse is holding out for him, stepping back to allow a fourth year resident to step in and close the patient up. Stripping off his gloves, he heads outside to scrub out, and Melinda rises from her seat and leaves the viewing area.

She's down outside OR 1 in less than two minutes, and she knows that Phil is still in there, so she leans against the wall and waits for him to exit. The door opens and he steps out, a deep frown in his face and exhaustion wearing down on him, but as soon as he turns and sees Melinda, his eyes light up and a smile breaks out.

"Hey."

"Hey. Finished your paperwork?" he asks, moving beside her.

Her hand slips into his, almost automatically, as if it were some sort of reflex, and she can definitely remember a time, less than two months ago where this amount of close contact with another person had made her uncomfortable.

She nods softly, leaning her head against his shoulder.

They've both been awake for at least twenty hours, and he looks as if he could fall asleep on his feet at any moment.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride home," he says, nudging her arm, and she's too tired to object, so she lets him pull her along with him down the hallway, hands clasped together between them.