Blackbird

by SpookyMormonHellDream

Modern AU, E/C. Dr. Erik Riley had always been alone, with few exceptions - he'd expected to remain that way indefinitely. However, an administrative error forced a young medical student into his life, setting in motion a series of events that would change the both of them forever, if only he would allow himself to overcome his own troubled past.

25. When We Tried Not to Slip

Author's Note: Welcome back, y'all! A quick note about reviewing - because I did some housekeeping on earlier chapters, FFN wasn't recognizing reviews from newer chapters properly, so if you'd like to review this OR the previous chapter, you will have to log out and review as a guest, but ONLY IF you have already reviewed on Parts 1 and 2 of Chapter 17. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I really hope y'all will still let me know what you thought of this update. This will likely not be the case in the future, but I'll make sure to keep y'all up to speed on that front. Major thanks to Riene for pointing the issue out - you have saved me a ton of stress about thinking that my last chapter sucked, so thank you for that! :D Also, a character will show up later in this chapter that is based directly off of Samantha Taggart (played by the lovely and talented Linda Cardellini, OMG, so amazing) from ER - so of course, here's the disclaimer that I do not own her. Finally, the title of this chapter comes from lyrics to the song "The Freshmen" by The Verve Pipe. Thank you all for the love, and I hope you enjoy!

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 18 - When We Tried Not to Slip

Christine

Early on during the first part of our journey back to Chicago after the few days spent visiting Erik's grandfather, I'd fallen into silence, preoccupied by my thoughts and replaying significant moments from the trip in my mind's eye. Before then, I'd never been to Tennessee, but I truly enjoyed myself there - enjoyed getting to meet Gene and having the chance to learn more about Erik and his family. The three of us spent the majority of our time simply talking to one another, with the elder Riley most often taking the lead, seemingly doing so as a way of getting caught up with Erik, and making me feel welcome there all at once; whenever he spoke, it was easy to get lost in his words, in the stories he'd recounted that highlighted his heavy and distinct Southern accent. I listened to him much like I'd been able to when my own grandfather was still alive. In a similar manner, Gene and I got along well, doing so early on and maintaining our positive rapport throughout the remainder of the visit. At no point during the interactions that followed our introduction had I sensed even a fragment of forced-politeness or insincerity from him. Rather, I left feeling wholly accepted into his life, and that acceptance meant the world to me. I looked forward to seeing him again.

But still, past experiences had left me somewhat jaded in terms of believing my ability to find lasting approval among the family members of the men I'd dated. And although a part of me knew I wasn't being rational in doing so, I worried all the same about what could potentially come of this meeting - about the possibility that I'd encouraged false hope by determining its success.

Considering that, I hesitantly spoke my unease aloud, raising my voice just enough to be heard over whatever song was playing, "Do you think your grandfather liked me?"

"Are you serious?" Erik asked as he glanced at me, seeming genuinely shocked that I had asked at all. Turning down the radio as a sign that he was going to give me his full attention even as he kept his eyes on the road, he said resolutely, "Christine, he loved you."

"He told you that?"

"Of course he did. Why would you think otherwise?"

I shrugged - though I doubted that he'd seen the slight gesture - as I murmured, "Bad history with families, I guess."

"Honey," he sighed, reaching over the center console and taking my hand tightly in his, as if doing so would emphasize his point, "If he'd had any problems with you, he would've told you to fuck right off. Probably using those exact words," he added with a smirk - upon seeing that expression from him, I was glad that he felt comfortable enough to forego wearing his surgical mask while he drove, deeming it unnecessary while we were still on the interstate where so few people, if any, would be able to see him clearly. Then, he repeated in a steady tone, "Gene loved you. He's so happy you came out to Memphis with me. And so am I."

"I am glad I got to go. I really loved it there, and I loved meeting Gene. He's such a sweetheart," I mused fondly, feeling more at ease than I had even a moment ago. But then, a somewhat dismal thought occurred to me in the next instant, and I felt my good mood fall again as I admitted, "I wish I had some family for you to get to meet, though. The only one I have is my mom, and she's obviously out of the question. I just - "

" - Christine, I wanted you to meet my grandfather because he's a good person, and he means a lot to me," Erik said, his words firm, though he kept his voice gentle, continuing with the same measure of certainty, "We didn't make this trip so I could meet some standard of etiquette because we're together. This wasn't a favor for you to return. If you're the only one in your family that I ever get to know, I'm grateful for that much. Alright?"

"Alright," I said dispassionately - then immediately realized that using that tone could've easily been interpreted as a sign of bitterness in me. I didn't want him to think that I hadn't taken his words to heart, because I was beginning to be able to - I just couldn't properly articulate that reaction yet. And so, instead of leaving the discussion on a sour note, I hoped to acknowledge his sincerity by allowing a little more brightness to paint my words, "You're very sweet, Erik."

"I'm very honest, Christine," he replied, mimicking my tone.

And I was able to laugh at that in spite of myself; I was sure he'd spoken as he had on purpose, that he assumed his levity would ensure a happier response from me. So, seeing that we were now returning to the easy interactions we'd maintained before the more stressful part of our conversation, I ventured, "I keep forgetting to ask you, but since we left I've been wondering what you and Gene talked about when I wasn't around."

"Why?"

"Because I caught him grinning like a kid sometimes, and I think you knew that."

Erik smiled at my hidden accusation - good-natured though it was - and said, "That's all? You make it sound like we were plotting against you."

I laughed again, "Were you?"

"Absolutely," he said, the humor clear from his side of the banter, but then he quickly evaded answering my question by posing an unrelated one of his own, "Do you want to stay with me when we get back into Chicago? Or would you rather go home?"

Sighing, I knew he didn't intend to directly respond to me. But by his doing so, I also simply decided that his teasing meant nothing of consequence had actually happened while the two men spoke when I wasn't nearby - nothing that I needed to be concerned about, at least. My curiosity was likely piqued just because of the newness of the situation. Noting that, I let the subject rest, replying, "I want to stay with you, if that's alright."

"It's always alright," he said, taking my hand once more and kissing it before saying, "Thank you again for coming with me. Gene and I both loved having you there with us."

Smiling, I squeezed his hand in return before leaning back into my seat contentedly, ready to settle down and enjoy the rest of my time as a passenger - after a few hours, I was going to take over behind the wheel and give Erik a break, and so I decided that relaxing now would be wise. We didn't speak for a while after that exchange, opting instead to turn the music back on as we traveled further away from Memphis. But later, the rest of our trip was filled with more neutral topics of discussion, and that was a relief for each of us - because although my worries were largely unfounded and then resolved through Erik's reassurances, in general we were both incredibly tired from driving so far, and for so long. For the immediate future, easy conversation was all we could manage.

By the time the sun had long-since gone down past the horizon - once the interstate eventually gave way to the denser pre-holiday traffic leading into Chicago, before we finally came upon the snow- and salt-lined roads of the city itself - we were well beyond exhausted. Our only required stop on the way back to Erik's house was to pick Rex up from Nadir and Sahra, as Erik had been wary about taking a pit bull into any state where the breed was either banned or restricted; even with the proper documentation to prove that Rex was a legitimately trained and certified service animal, Erik hadn't wanted to take any chances. Thus, the dog had stayed with our friends until we returned. But after a brief visit, we were both more than ready to go home, go to bed, and put off anything else that needed to be handled until the next morning.

For the most part, neither of us had any major commitments that we needed to fulfil before Christmas the following week. Otherwise, until then we were free to enjoy the rest of my break together; and at that point, I considered it time well spent.

~~oOo~~

Just as we'd done the previous year, Erik and I both volunteered to work during this year's Christmas Eve and Christmas Day overnight shifts, offering to do so primarily to lessen some of the professional burden for our colleagues. It wasn't any trouble for us to be there for each night - I would be staying in Chicago either way, and Erik didn't care much for the holidays in the first place. Even prior to becoming a couple, he'd always referred to himself as grudgingly agnostic, but for him to actually celebrate Christmas or any other religious holidays had never been a priority to him. For my part, I'd long-since stopped looking forward to the winter holidays as a rule; without my father to observe them with me, any type of celebration was too painful to experience, even when I was with Raoul and we were kept occupied by his family's traditions. In recent years, I simply preferred to skip the whole ordeal altogether.

This time around, however, I was admittedly happy to at least have someone there by my side that I cared about so deeply - even if our version of a holiday celebration was limited to briefly exchanging gifts before leaving for work, and days spent recovering from our long shifts curled up in bed together. But if that became our tradition, then neither of us had any complaints. To be honest, I was perfectly content to work again in the future as I had during my first years of med school rotations, to steal a few moments with Erik whenever an opportunity arose for us. On this date a year ago, we had just barely started talking to each other once more after falling out so badly, fighting our way through so many personal and collective issues before we were both ready to come together again - even if that was only as friends. I didn't want to dwell on wondering how long our reconciliation might have been delayed if Erik hadn't extended his olive branch and asked me to meet him on the roof last Christmas. As such, I was grateful now that everything between us had shifted so drastically in our favor. I didn't think I would ever get used to every aspect of our relationship that had changed for us since we'd first met, yet I didn't necessarily consider that to be anything negative, either.

In the end, although we were assigned to spend both of the overnighters in separate departments, the shifts themselves unexpectedly gave us several more chances to sneak away than we'd gotten last year, especially once the rush of incoming patients slowed down, and our superiors cleared us for periodic breaks. From there - and with some assistance and knowing glances from friends that were also on-call during those nights - Erik and I had often wandered away from our respective posts, always going off somewhere to talk and pass the time alone together and to kiss in darkened areas of the hospital. Unorthodox though Christmas had turned out to be for us, I sincerely loved every moment of it, as much as I had enjoyed the following week, where we shared New Year's Eve in much the same fashion as the previous year - though the conclusion of that second New Year's was far more agreeable for the both of us than the first had been. Because when the sun rose again on New Year's Day, we were free to stay in one another's embrace, silently acknowledging the contrast between that morning and the bittersweet one the year before.

Afterward, the beginning of my final semester finally kicked off, and with that came my next rotation in surgery. That in itself was something I'd been looking forward to, simply for the fact that I remembered how challenging my first assignment in that department had been; but the experience was made that much more interesting by having the chance to see Erik working in his own element for the first time. I'd often noted how talented of a physician he was when we had worked together in the emergency room, but the few times so far that I was able to observe him alongside my resident now, I realized exactly how suited he was to his role as a surgeon, while functioning in that capacity in a strictly surgical environment. It was saddening for me to remember that even this position caused him a moderate amount of stress, but I could be glad all the same that at least the stress wasn't nearly as overwhelming as it had been when he was still down in the ER. So many times during his contract there, I saw him fall into incredibly dark and hopeless states of mind, ready to collapse under the pressure of everything he saw throughout the days he worked there. In surgery, that kind of reaction was properly controlled, and he mentioned to me more than once since returning that he was better off for being back.

My assigned rotation had also coincided with our one-year anniversary, an occasion when Erik had surprised me by insisting that we celebrate the event, although he wanted the details to be left solely to him. Handing over control required no effort as far as I was concerned, and while I knew that he wasn't the type of man to approach this sort of situation with any terrible extravagance - a quality in him that I appreciated endlessly - I also knew that he would mark the day by thoroughly acknowledging the significance of the date somehow. I loved him for that. It wasn't very often that we had the chance to actually go out on dates, something that Erik had expressed guilt over, even as his doing so was unnecessary; we were both aware of my role in that problem as well. But the fact remained that a full-time trauma surgeon paired with a med student in her final year meant that little time could be spared outside of medicine, at least during those beginning stages of our relationship.

And anyway, beyond the inevitable realities and constraints of our careers, we had also come to the unspoken understanding that Erik highly preferred to spend as much time separate from others as possible - another point of contention that existed in his own mind, but something that we were handling just the same. I wasn't slighted that he felt considerably more at ease in the confines of his own house, or in my apartment, or anywhere that we could share time and space together without having to do so with crowds around us. The countless hours we spent hiding away in a world of our own up until that point had created some of my fondest memories, and I wouldn't trade those for any excursions or whatever else he thought I was missing.

Still, Erik was determined to mark our one-year by spending it together somewhere on the edge of the city, surrounded by the lights and the noise and the rush of life to be found there on the lake. Upon witnessing his excitement for the first time after he'd walked into my living room - even as that excitement mingled with some of the remaining nervousness in his eyes - I couldn't deny that the idea was as appealing to me as it was to him. Once I was ready, I allowed him to take my hand in his and lead me out of my apartment, smiling all the while.

Unlike the year before, the weather held out in a comfortable range that night, even for quite a while after sunset. The steady breeze coming off Lake Michigan was still unmistakable, but not altogether as bad as it could often become under harsher conditions. Erik and I walked slowly along one of the paths on Lakefront Trail beside the water for a time, starting out at that location well beyond the docks simply to catch up with one another after our tiring work day. Even though we were both settled up in surgery now, our earlier shifts had been particularly hectic, and we'd had almost no chances to see each other for any lengthy period of time - not even long enough for a quick greeting. Days like that weren't uncommon, though, and not for the first time, I was grateful that we could see each other when we wanted to outside of the hospital.

Politely stalling our conversation, and stopping us next to a small observation platform overlooking the part of the shore we could see, Erik turned me to face him directly as he took off his surgical mask, then pulled me into an embrace. We stood there in silence then, maintaining that silence as easily as we had so often before, and my mind turned once again to what our relationship had grown into over the past year. Wondering distantly if his thoughts were at all with my own, though never pulling away entirely, I leaned far enough from him to be able to look into his eyes - and I saw contentment there, once a rarity that I was absolutely determined to have become a permanent fixture in his consciousness. In this setting, it was easy for him to let the rest of his concerns stay idle while he made sure to enjoy himself, to make me happy in turn. But he had to mindfully do so even right now, while I wanted so badly for that ability to become second-nature for him. He deserved as much and then some. And so, when he smiled at me, I returned the expression, hoping that my own smile would provide the reassurance he needed, and I kissed him.

After several more lingering kisses and whispered endearments passed between us - and when he'd replaced the mask - we continued to walk, eventually stopping off the main path to buy coffees from one of the vendors populating the area; doing so had become a necessity once we ran out of luck and the temperature outside fell to the point of discomfort. We laughed with only a mild sense of annoyance when it did, counting ourselves fortunate to begin with that we'd fared better than past excursions to that part of the city. And with a mark of boldness then, Erik took off the mask once again to be able to drink his coffee right there, rather than having to wait - another rarity from him, and a habit that I doubted would ever leave him entirely. But in spite of the several other groups of people that were also out that night to take advantage of the relatively good weather, very few of them halted their progress in order to give Erik that dreaded second-glance, and I knew without having to be told that he was grateful for the opportunity to simply be, to spend time outside without being made to feel like an other. He didn't say so aloud, but I knew how much that meant to him.

We spent a little while longer out walking on Lakefront before we finally gave in to our shared exhaustion and growing discomfort from the worsening chill in the air - at that point, we didn't need to convince the other that Erik's warm and quiet house in Schaumburg was far more attractive than the idea of staying indefinitely along the shores of Lake Michigan. I had loved our time there together so much that night, but the preceding day was catching up to me faster than I'd initially realized, and once we were in his car driving back out to the suburbs, it had become the consensus between us to just immediately fall into bed and stay there well into the next morning. At least, that had been our original intention upon arrival.

Once we were settled into Erik's house for the night, however - once Rex was secured near his favorite heater vent downstairs and Erik and I were getting ready for bed ourselves - it appeared that neither he nor I was ready to actually go to sleep anymore.

Rather, once I'd returned from an extended and likely too-hot shower, Erik reached out and carefully pulled me down next to him in the bed, before quickly shifting us to lay alongside each other once he'd gained my full attention. But even so, I initially gave a startled laugh at his gesture, as I was almost certain in the moment before he moved from where he was laying that he'd already fallen asleep, relaxed from his own shower earlier and the overall comfort of being home after our long day. In the dim glow of the bedside lamp, I had only glanced at him before turning away to tie my hair up, but apparently I hadn't looked closely enough. In being perfectly honest, though, as soon as he put his arms so possessively around me, I was glad that I was mistaken in my assumption that he slept while I was getting ready for bed - the prospect of so much physical contact between us now was a welcome one, even despite the weariness from the day. He briefly shared my laughter, before once again moving to bring me that much closer into his embrace. And without needing any further prompting from him, I met his mouth as he sought after mine for a kiss - one that deepened immediately upon contact.

No words passed between us after that - we knew each other so well by then, had become so in-tune with one another's mind and body that, since the first time we slept together and from each encounter afterward, we'd grown steadily more able to understand without having to speak what we wanted to find in the other that night. Any words we could capture beyond that point would almost certainly become no more than aphrodisiacs, I was sure, rather than modes of communication between lovers. Within moments, Erik carefully reached over and turned off the lamp before returning to me, holding me close to him again, parting my lips with his tongue and moving it sensuously with mine; even with only the full moon beyond the curtains and the ambient light from outside to guide our hands, we fell into sync with each other quickly. From there, we each worked to slowly strip ourselves of what little clothing we wore to bed, until there was nothing left covering us, until there was just heated skin touching skin; we moved within the darkness to use our hands and our mouths and our softly spoken challenges to entice the other, to elicit a purely carnal response.

As alluring as that was, though, after time I couldn't stand the teasing and the foreplay anymore, and so I pulled Erik to position himself above me, signaling that I was ready to be taken completely. Ensuring that he didn't allow his full weight to come down on me, he braced himself on either side of my body, leaning forward just long enough to give me another searing kiss; and then all at once, I felt his arousal against my inner-thigh, felt his subtle urging for me to part my legs, and he was finally inside of me. I gasped at the length of him, at the fullness I felt, wrapping my legs around him and coaxing him to begin moving his hips so I could meet his rhythm. Whispered words and sweet nothings were exchanged in the dark then; as he moved against me and inside me, pitching his hips forward until we were both breathless, it seemed that once again we were the only two people left in the world. Anything and everything else had fallen away, had meant nothing simply for the fact that we were experiencing this act together - that now we were free to love each other and to hold one another and to make love without the fear of regret or pain that had almost ended us once. I clutched him tighter at the thought.

When it was done, Erik moved to lay beside me again as we both paused to catch our breath, each of our hearts pounding in our chests with the excitement of a shared and intense climax. We simply existed there in that bed, all tangled limbs and fervent kisses. Only after we had both calmed ourselves down once more did Erik speak again, murmuring words into the darkness of the room so softly that I had to turn that much closer to him in order to hear.

But it was impossible to be mistaken when he said, "I love you."

And I smiled, "I love you, too."

~~oOo~~

One evening near the end of April, as the academic year prepared to close out, I had decided to drive out to Erik's house after my last shift before the weekend. All throughout the trip, I was looking forward to having some time when I wasn't required to come into the hospital the next day, excited that this had finally happened to coincide with one of his days off as well. There had been so few thus far in the semester. Every now and again we would find ourselves with somewhat flexible schedules, but as graduation approached, so had my workload steadily increased, and in turn we hadn't gotten many chances to see each other for any extended span of time. That weekend, we were both impatient to do something about it.

We planned for me to spend the night in Schaumburg with him - though my stay would likely go on longer than that. And although we didn't otherwise have any specific ideas in mind for how we'd occupy those hours, beyond a few obvious activities, it turned out altogether to simply be a nice evening - a comfortable and affectionate night together that I spent in his arms, or in his bed, so much time taken up by sharing our space and our thoughts. As I'd done often before, sometimes I'd break away for a while to study, always doing so with Erik nearby, usually keeping busy with some other task of his own, yet staying available if he heard me murmuring questions about course material I was still unfamiliar with. The details of what we chose to do didn't matter - regardless of where we found ourselves, of what we did when we spent time in each other's company, we still fit side-by-side so well, and in more ways than one.

"I wish I could've known you when you were still a student," I'd said thoughtfully at one point when the conversation we were having that night eased up, absentmindedly stirring the coffee I'd poured only moments earlier as I tried to picture Erik when he was younger, piecing together the details I already knew, alongside the image of him as I had seen it so many times by now in that old and faded picture on his mantle.

"I had a massive chip on my shoulder when I was a med student, though, remember? You probably wouldn't have liked me," he said, but quickly and unsurprisingly moved away from that topic in the next instant, and I suspected that this was going to be another point that would be brought up again later. But he'd kept his voice light, clearly hadn't been bothered by the turn our discussion had taken; and at my silent prompting for him to continue talking one way or another, he asked instead, "What'd you want to do before choosing med school?"

Pausing at his question, I reached forward to where Rex had fallen asleep on the floor in front of me, gently patting him on his side as I determined what to say in response.

Erik already knew that I went to a nearby community college after high school, doing so mainly at my father's request for me to be responsible, to work toward something I could use to take care of myself when he was gone - a career which was as-yet outside of a medical degree. But my enrollment in a school of any kind was the only surety in my life then; moreover, it never meant that I'd found other definitive goals, certainly not when I had barely reached adulthood. By the time a little more than a year passed, my life was chaotic in no way that was motivational; I was constantly working, wearing myself out to the point of physical pain to survive on minimum wage, and I was just learning how to properly grieve for my father. But over time, I became so fed up with always feeling miserable that I finally convinced myself to move forward, doing so gradually and with a vague yet steadily growing interest of helping people in mind, hoping that I was making the right decision all the while.

Another shining example of my naivety - but everything had been for the best, when I actually looked back and compared myself to who I was then and the person I'd become now. I had a lot to show for it, and in a way, I was looking forward to sharing that information with Erik.

I laughed softly at the memories that came up before I admitted, "I never had a solid plan before med school was a thing. Just ideas, like maybe becoming a CNA or a nurse, something like that. But after my dad died, and after I got back on my feet, I decided I wanted to do more. And I had to catch up, so I left the college I was in at the time and went to one that offered a better range of classes. I told you a while back that I'd started dating Raoul around then, right?" I asked, and when Erik grudgingly confirmed, I continued, "So when I was taking odd jobs and going to school and thinking about transferring to a university, Raoul was finishing up a different degree to work for his dad. Eventually we both decided on medicine," I explained, adding the end quickly, knowing that neither of us wanted to delve further than I already had into the specifics of my relationship with Raoul. Instead, feeling that I had shared enough, I concluded, "So what I wanted to do before med school was still medical. But I don't think being a nurse or anything else was ever a longterm goal for me."

Erik nodded, seeming to appreciate the brevity of that part of my explanation. When I set my coffee on the end table beside the couch, he moved to lie down, resting his head on my legs as he spoke, "I'm sure you would've been an amazing nurse, though. You're great with anything that requires compassion. I think I knew that I loved you when I realized how much you care about people. You really do care about your patients," he mused, looking up at me and smiling, then spoke again and echoed the sentiment that I shared with him at the outset of this part of our conversation, "It would've been nice to have known you back then, too."

And I couldn't help the answering smile that I gave at his words, resting my hand over one of his already lying on his chest and distantly wishing then that we could've somehow met each other long before we had - and I wondered in the same moment what would have become of us if that were the case. Yet I also knew that there was no reason to dwell on that notion for too long. As it stood, I was perfectly content with what we had now, with our shared life as we knew it - we both were. As I'd told Erik more than once before that day, there truly wasn't a single detail I wanted to change about what we had in the present, even if what happened in each of our respective pasts to get to this point had been painful.

~~oOo~~

The day I graduated from medical school fell just days after my twenty-ninth birthday at the end of May, and had proven itself to be a bittersweet occasion, more so than I'd imagined it might have been from the outset. I was grateful to have gotten as far as I had in my education - finally reaching that significant milestone after working toward it for so long - and I felt sincere happiness in the certainty that my father would have been proud of me for the success. Still, at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to even temporarily ignore the fact that I likely would never have made the choice to become a doctor in the first place if he hadn't gotten sick. Losing him was the central catalyst in that decision, and although following through with it meant that I had obtained the skills necessary to care for families similar to my own, that didn't erase the fact that my father was gone; I could help others now, but there was no longer a chance to help him. His absence in the face of my accomplishment was painfully obvious throughout the graduation ceremony - I found it difficult to let go of that weight in my heart. As I heard my name called over PA system, drowning out the crowd and summoning me onto the stage to receive my diploma, I was well aware of who wasn't there in the audience to see me walk.

But I was proud to be there at all, and bearing that pride in mind, I forced myself to take some comfort in that. Being able to glimpse Erik, Nadir, and Sahra in the audience also helped me with the effort to a degree - I clearly heard them cheering for me when I crossed the stage, and their doing so helped me to regain a considerably more genuine smile. It stayed with me even as I returned to my seat among my classmates.

Once the formal ceremony was finished and I was able to wend my way through the dense crowd of graduates and their guests, I ran to Erik the moment I spotted him. He caught me when I approached him in my exuberance, holding me tightly in his arms and giving me a firm and lingering kiss as a form of greeting. He was dressed as casually as he would allow himself to be seen among present- and former-coworkers, clothed in simple dark jeans and a button-up with the sleeves cuffed high on his forearms. That was the first time I'd been able to see him that day, and as such I hadn't been expecting this appearance. But I was that much more surprised when I noted that he had let his tattoos and his scars stay visible to the world, and more so that he'd gone without a surgical mask for the occasion. It was still very rare that he wouldn't wear one when he was in public for so long, but I was admittedly grateful that he'd made that decision - I reveled in seeing the smile that he gave me when we parted, one that I could appreciate under the sunlight that shone over the university's courtyard.

After offering me a kind and brief congratulations, Nadir and Sahra left us alone again - doing so in part to go off and speak with some of the other graduates, and in part to allow us a private moment before we all set out to spend the rest of the afternoon together. From there, I impatiently took off my cap and gown, and Erik ushered me away from the larger main crowd. Hand-in-hand, we set to walking around that section of the campus for a time, going slowly now by comparison to leaving the graduation itself, having no real reason to rush. Eventually, we'd made our way to a more deserted area of the grounds, where the din of voices and celebration wasn't nearly as excessive or distracting. We found a cluster of trees there that I'd mentioned in passing being fond of before, and that now provided us with enough shade to be comfortable while we hung around; and we just stood there for a little while, catching up since we'd last seen each other, enjoying the distinct sense of euphoria that could only follow this kind of occasion.

Then, when the conversation found its natural lull, Erik took a box from his pocket to present to me. I recognized it as a jewelry case immediately, but I was still surprised when I opened it to find a necklace adorned with a small emerald pendant, my birthstone.

"Belated gift for your birthday. And for graduating," he explained - even though it wasn't necessary for him to do so then - as I smiled over the open box in my hands, before he added with a laugh, "And for your internship."

Still smiling, I shifted the box carefully to keep the necklace safely inside, and hugged him tightly, "Thank you, Erik."

He kissed me softly before he responded, "You're welcome."

"Will you help me put it on?"

He nodded, and when I turned and brushed my hair aside, he said as he worked the clasp of the necklace, "You have no idea how proud I am of you. I can't say it enough."

"You helped me get to this point, you know," I replied as I turned to face him again, then teased, "I've said that before, and I think you should be proud of your own teaching."

He laughed again, "No, I only tutored you. You're the one that took the information and applied it the right way," then continued, "I could've spent every minute of your rotations talking you through your procedures, but that wouldn't have been worth a damn thing if you didn't take the time to learn it all yourself."

"Well, either way, I'm glad I had you here," I conceded lightly, then paused to reach up and touch my fingertips to the emerald, admiring the necklace it hung from, my other arm now draped over Erik's shoulder. But in the next instant, my thoughts turned once again to my father, and I felt the sudden shift in my mood that resulted, felt the renewed sadness that threatened to overwhelm me as it had before.

Erik noticed the change at once, tilting my chin to look up at him, "What is it?"

"I've just been thinking about my dad a lot today," I replied uneasily, clearing my throat in an attempt to keep my voice even, then continued when Erik indicated that he understood what I was trying to say, "It's like this every time he misses something."

He nodded, "I had Nadir and Gene with me when I graduated, but that was all. I wanted my godmother there, too, and even my mom," he said, pulling me close to him again, brushing my hair aside gently, "I know this hurts, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

Sighing, and knowing that there was nothing more I could say then, I just shifted to rest my head against his shoulder, arms held tightly around his waist. I felt the remaining ache of my grief strongly; yet even so, I was also somehow able to see past that grief and appreciate this moment between us for what it was, recognizing this secure embrace and the whole of our conversation as another assurance of our compatibility. So, welcoming the idea, I whispered, "I'm glad I came to Chicago."

"So am I."

"I think you're biased."

"Probably," he pulled away and shrugged casually, his eyes shining once more with the levity we were sharing as he continued, "That doesn't make it any less true, though."

"I'll give you that."

"I'm glad you came to Chicago, too," he began, mirroring my words before he asked with only a small trace of hesitance in his voice, "But would you ever want to go back to San Diego?"

"I'm not sure. A few years ago, I could see myself building a life there. But I think that's because it's familiar, and I felt established back then, or as much as I could. Now I want to make that happen somewhere else. I see my life continuing on Chicago, honestly."

"Good. I want to be a part of that," he said resolutely, "I hope you'll let me be a part of it."

Immediately accepting the request in my mind, I smiled in return - at the earnestness that he was so openly displaying for me, toward his admission of wanting to stay in my life as someone of great significance. And actually, it felt right for us to start having more discussions like this, to start giving each other these kinds of lasting offers and requests, and then coming to more concrete decisions when we could - because while Erik and I hadn't yet gotten into lengthy conversations about getting married at some point down the line, the subject had been broached before, and we'd each made it clear that neither of us would be opposed to the idea. We wanted our future to unfold together, were deliberately acting in ways that were pointing us in that direction, and that fact became more pronounced as time went by.

So I responded primly, honestly, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

He gave a smile of his own then, and in the moments that followed our exchange, we simply fell into another companionable silence, my arms now draped over his shoulders, his securely braced around me. When we spoke again, we did so in murmurs, and of lighter topics. Everything that needed to be said between us had just been declared - at least for the time being - and for now, we didn't need to fill the air with absolute words of commitment.

~~oOo~~

My oncological internship under Dr. Nila Tavade was set to start at the beginning of July that summer. But while I was looking forward to being able to practice medicine with increasing independence, I wasn't so naive as to think it would be uncomplicated. In comparison to working through med school, starting my internship with a stronger foundation would likely not bring me much trouble, but that didn't mean the preparation itself wasn't overwhelming.

Because adding to that, I also needed to manage the tasks of moving out of the student housing building and attending the mandatory first-time meeting with my future colleagues. All of which, incidentally, realistically had to happen before the internship term even began, leaving me with just under six weeks to get everything done. Altogether, that proved difficult enough, but it was moving out that brought me the most apprehension; for all the progress that we made, Erik and I simply weren't ready to live together yet, and I knew I would have to find a roommate to be able to afford living off-campus. But by that point, and once I was more or less ready to move - whenever I'd actually be able to - I had to attend my department's week-long intern orientation, an event which was dubbed the Intern Pre-Union. But even though the title of the event seemed somewhat juvenile, I was otherwise looking forward to the event itself.

The first day, however, was still incredibly awkward - it wasn't until the third or so day that we'd collectively managed to break the ice enough to begin to feel like a community, like a cohesive group that would be working closely together from that point on. Communicating did gradually get better from there, thankfully - the only hurdle left for the cohort was a few interns continuing to be reserved, learning what the climate of the department generally was, but still waiting to show any sort of personality quirks until they were sure that they were allowed to do so. Admittedly, I behaved in that manner as well, approaching my coworkers tentatively, and more than once I had to remind myself of where I was, to pull away from that shyness; but in turn, I began to worry that this uneasiness would always be the state of things in oncology. I'd mentioned that particular concern to Erik most of the nights I spent with him, and every time I did, he assured me that dynamics would improve, that we were still mostly strangers to one another. It was only when I took his advice to heart that I began to feel more at home in my chosen specialty, speaking to my peers as colleagues rather than just as strangers, and in the end that served me well.

Specifically, on the last day of the Pre-Union - when I was finally starting to remember more of the names and demeanors and so many other key details about the members of my cohort - I noticed one of the women that was closer to my age approaching the bulletin board that I was looking at, just outside of the interns' locker room.

We smiled in friendly recognition of each other, and from there she gestured to the board and flyers tacked to it, saying, "Since you're looking at this thing, I have to ask. Do most people even take the ads seriously? I mean, if you were looking for rentals or roommates or something, would you pull off a phone number tab instead of ignoring it?"

I laughed at her bluntness, but I appreciated it just the same as I responded, "Speaking for myself, I actually do take them seriously," then added, somewhat abashedly, "I'm sorry, I've seen you all week, but I'm completely blanking on your name right now."

And she laughed in return, extending her hand, "No problem. I'm Meg Garrison. And you're Christine...something."

"Durant. But anyway, you were asking about the bulletin board?"

She sighed, seemingly in frustration, and I suspected then that she wasn't having much success in gaining attention for whatever it was that she was trying to advertise. And in the next instant, she proved my assumption correct as she said, "My old roommate bailed on me at the last minute, and I've been having a hell of a time filling the room again," she held up her ad, "It's a good place, and it's nearby, but apparently most people have somewhere to live already. But I wanted to try posting this here instead of getting some asshole off Craigslist."

"Smart," I murmured, taking the proffered ad, "This is pretty reasonable."

She nodded, "It's an older building, but it's in a good neighborhood. The landlord's living out of state and doesn't really want to worry about the property," she explained, "So when the old roommate broke the lease, the landlord just told me to sublet. You wouldn't be looking to split an apartment, would you?"

Making a quick decision, I said with genuine enthusiasm, "Actually, yeah, I am."

"Great! Are you leaving for the day?" she asked, and at my nodded response, she said, "If you're interested, we can talk about it some more, and I'll show you the pictures."

I agreed to the suggestion, and from there, we escaped to one of the less populated coffee shops down the street from the hospital, soon getting to talking about possibly forming a living arrangement. After a while - after discussing the pictures of the space that Meg showed me on her phone, and the various other practicalities that needed to be addressed - it was easy for us to determine that we could make a roommate situation between us work well. We turned out to have enough in common to begin establishing a friendship, and I was grateful that moving out of my current apartment and into the new one had come about so easily, and with someone that I sincerely liked to be around. I enjoyed Meg's company, and we both decided shortly after our coffee shop meeting that it really would be beneficial for us to each have another intern from oncology nearby during the year's assignment. If we could help each other in any way, then all the better. By the end of our conversation, we exchanged phone numbers and planned to meet a few more times throughout the coming weeks.

Once we had spoken more often in-person and had gotten to be reasonably comfortable around one another, we were ready to handle the actual logistics of the sublet, and soon enough we got the final approval from the landlord, wrote up a roommate agreement draft, and - relieved that the process had been completely painless when it was all said and done - I was finally able to move in and get settled at the end of that month.

~~oOo~~

By mid-August, the new interns were already several weeks into our program - but even in that relatively short span of time, and though I loved my role in the department in concept, the reality was that oncology was absolutely exhausting, demanding, and stressful, and very rarely were any of us granted much leeway when we might have been before. We were still guided by our superiors to a considerable extent, but we were also held to a far higher standard all at once, decidedly more so than we had been as students. Having the title of doctor in front of our names now had quickly shifted us all into an entirely new identity, one that even our years of schooling hadn't quite prepared us for - not completely, nor in an abstract sense. Officially, we had known what to do for our patients, and were continuously learning how to better apply those skills, but to experience everything we were going through firsthand became another matter altogether; it was difficult to describe that feeling, even to those sharing in it, yet somehow we all understood.

After one particularly difficult shift, Meg and I were walking back home when she asked, "Do you ever feel - and hear me out before you answer me - but do you ever feel like Tavade wants to punish us?"

I laughed at her phrasing more than the actual words, knowing her well enough by that point to realize that she was only being half-serious then, though I still knew the source of her question better than I cared to admit. I was thankful to have found a friend in Meg, to have met someone that was going through the same challenges as I was. Like me, she had decided to go into medicine later in life than many of our peers, yet in general she felt significantly more sure of herself as a result. But while she was incredibly driven and goal-oriented - determined to make a life for herself and to take care of her aging mother back in Maryland as well - she also had in common with me the rather unfortunate and inconvenient trait of allowing misplaced anxiety to fuel doubt at the worst possible times. Often, we found ourselves having to talk the other off of the ledge, if only for the sake of encouraging reassurance in our actions; this day was just one example of many similar occasions to remind me of that fact.

Sighing, I answered her question, "I'm not really sure. I'm honestly afraid of her, though."

And that much was true - I respected the hell out of Dr. Tavade as my resident, but with that respect simultaneously came a healthy does of fear. She was a daunting woman in her own right, though we had come to find out that she'd behaved that way very much out of necessity, a powerful confidence born from fighting through years of discrimination - between her religion, her race, her gender, so much about her set her apart from her colleagues from the outset. It didn't matter what decade we lived in, some things about human nature wouldn't change so easily; Dr. Tavade was proof enough of that. So she shaped herself to be forceful, to stand out in her career where she otherwise might not have had to. And though she readily admitted to feeling enriched by the experience, it came at a price, and she'd warned us of falling victim to what she referred to as systematic bullshit. At heart, she was approachable, an ideal mentor - but she didn't let any of us get away with a single misstep, either.

Therefore, more than one demanding shift under her charge had left the interns shaken, and this time, Meg and I had received the brunt of the tough love.

But before either of us could continue our efforts to vent our frustrations and soothe the other's wounded pride, as we approached the main door of our apartment building, I recognized a friend I had met when I lived in student housing the year before. Ronnie was in the graduating year below me, but we had lived on the same floor, and often found ourselves sharing our extra food, or our old lecture notes, or whatever else was needed when budgets were nonexistent and student-life became too much to handle alone. I was surprised to see him now, but even more so when I noticed the kennel he held at his side, with Willow tucked inside of it.

Seeing the cat just when I did, Meg squealed excitedly and ran the rest of the way to the stoop, crouching down to the cat's level and saying, "Look at this! Someone's brought me a new fur baby," then, looking up at Ronnie, said amicably, "Hi, I'm Meg."

"Hi, Meg," he responded, then to me, "Christine, Willow has a problem."

My heart sank when he said that - all I could assume from that statement initially was that she had some kind of health issue. But Ronnie quickly explained the truth, relieving at least some of my confusion. Apparently, Willow's owner had turned out to be an elderly man that lived in the same neighborhood where the student housing building was located. He'd been aware that we all cared about his little tortoiseshell cat, and thus didn't think much about letting her outdoors to visit with the students. But then the man had passed away suddenly, and what family he had wasn't willing to take Willow in themselves. One thing led to another, and several of the students that were privy to the situation immediately stepped in to permanently rehome the cat, but so far had come up empty.

So, enter Ronnie toting the cat in question, having heard through the grapevine that I'd recently moved somewhere that supposedly allowed pets. Fortunately for all involved, that piece of information was true; and anyway, I refused to allow Willow to become homeless, or worse.

Sighing, I turned back to Meg, trying to keep my voice hopeful without actually begging, "How serious were you about making her your fur baby? I know it's really short notice, but - "

" - But nothing. She's ours now, it's no problem."

Ronnie and I shared a relieved glance as he passed the kennel over to me, and shortly after he had said his thank yous and left, Meg and I went out to get the cat the supplies that she needed, and had her settled in quickly. We come to would laugh about the whole thing later, but that day, we were simply happy to have some kind of distraction from the stresses of our work.

Otherwise, life continued on as normal beyond that point, even though normal didn't necessarily mean easy. But regardless, once the summer had ended and we as interns had steadily grown more confident as young doctors, we seemed to experience fewer days that made us seriously question the decision to go into medicine in the first place. Thank God for small blessings. Then, in early September, one of the seniored nurses in the ER unexpectedly had to resign, and while we were sad to see him go, many of us were also nervous about who might come to replace him. The dynamics between nurses and doctors varied by department, but in general, oncology and emergency aimed to work well together, simply for the fact that we interacted so often. But thankfully, our nervousness proved to be short-lived. After a few weeks of recruitment on the hospital administration's part, a woman named Samantha Novak filled the position, and she quickly proved herself to be more than adept at her job and as a coworker.

In particular, Meg and I enjoyed talking to her when our time allowed it, and the three of us quickly developed a friendship from there. Samantha was close to our age, the single mother of a young son named Xander, and I very strongly suspected that, as a result of balancing work and motherhood, she felt more exhaustion than she'd ever let on; yet at the same time, it also seemed clear to the majority of us trudging through our internships that Samantha's instinct to nurture extended well beyond her own household. More than once, if I or any of the other interns was sent down to the ER while she was on shift, she would always pull us aside once our duties were seen to and ask how we were feeling, or if we needed anything, or simply just to check in. Often, we would talk for a time, and by the end as a sign of dismissal, she would laugh and pat my arm as she walked away, and in turn I'd go in the opposite direction to leave as well, usually needing to return to oncology and prepare for my rounds. Afterward, I'd always reflect on those experiences at the hospital, and inevitably feel satisfied with the career path that I'd chosen - I couldn't imagine doing anything else, nor working with anyone else.

At home, whenever we shared a graveyard shift, or if he'd just gotten off a demanding overnighter of his own, Erik and I developed the routine of going straight back to my apartment to sleep, in lieu of driving all the way out to Schaumburg. By the time Erik had become a regular fixture, Meg hadn't minded the extra person sharing our living space, just as I hadn't minded the occasional presence of her newest boyfriend; and anyway, Erik and Meg were indifferent toward each other more often than not, though never unfriendly, tending instead to pass one another in the living room with a quick greeting before they parted again. Coexisting under the same roof, therefore, was generally simple for us to achieve all around.

When it was possible on the occasions that Erik did stay with me, he and I would make my bedroom as dark as we could, then immediately fall into bed and sleep long into the rest of the morning, attempting upon waking to spend the first hours of our day together, to make love, or go out somewhere for coffee, whatever we wanted to do. Soon enough, our passing the time in that manner felt as natural as anything else that happened during the span of our relationship. Steadily growing stronger as a couple, the trajectory that we'd set out upon became that much clearer, and I truly felt that I had no reason to doubt its permanence. I never did. We lived well carrying on as we had - had long ago fallen irrevocably in love, and we were incredibly grateful for that. There didn't seem to be anything left to face that we hadn't already overcome. I adored Erik and everything that we'd built; from the first day we met, our pairing seemed to have been inevitable, even in spite of how long it had taken us to grow brave enough to take that final leap. More than once I'd found myself pausing just to realize the magnitude of that truth. Honestly, the quality of life we shared almost felt too good to last forever.

Though, when considering that, I really shouldn't have been surprised at all when it came to an abrupt and devastating halt.

~~oOo~~

Meg insistently ushered me through the narrow aisles of the CVS furthest from our apartment; but moreover, she did so with far more bravery than I could find for myself. I was grateful for her company, but any gratitude I felt then was quickly overshadowed by my fear. She didn't exactly have to force me to be there, but I really hadn't made this trip easy on us, either. Instead, during the time leading up to that day, I'd made one stupid excuse after another to put the excursion off indefinitely, until she finally decided that enough was enough, and took the decision out of my hands entirely. And through our almost absurdly roundabout trek around the store - taking that longer route to mostly serve as a means for me to buy time and to calm myself down - I seriously envied her for the ability to maintain such level-headedness. I clearly hadn't mastered the art. But then, she wasn't the one of us that had to find a drugstore, instead of enjoying a sorely-needed day off from work - instead, I had recently found myself in the sudden position to need a home pregnancy test.

Feeling hypnotized throughout the entire transaction, I did go through with making the purchase eventually. Actually taking the test, though, was another matter, and one that I still hadn't fully prepared for, despite how much time I had already dedicated to dwelling on these circumstances. But at any rate, I couldn't take the test immediately. In spite of what I suspected - and with the several points of evidence all leading to the same conclusion, I sincerely doubted that I was wrong - I had to talk to Erik about this first, had to tell him what was potentially happening. For better or worse, he had the right to know, and he deserved to see the proof for himself.

Early the next morning, I had gotten a short message from him confirming that he was still coming over. I'd made sure to invite him the night before, when he stopped by to see me on his way to the hospital - and to my immense relief, he hadn't seemed to notice then that anything was off about me, that I was keeping something from him. Where he was perceptive, I was that much more determined to time the actual reveal of this news just right, afraid that failing to do so would only cause further problems between us. We had enough to handle as it stood.

Distracted by those thoughts, I jumped slightly from my chair when Erik knocked at the front door, even though I'd obviously been expecting him. But I recovered quickly, and the first thing I noted upon letting him inside the apartment was how tired he looked standing there before me; he had gotten off work less than an hour before that pint, and was undoubtedly exhausted from being on-call for so long throughout previous night. By my understanding, the shift had been exceedingly chaotic for everyone involved; and for a moment, I almost thought better of having this conversation with him now, distantly wondering if he would even be able to properly comprehend everything that I needed to say. But I also knew that if I stalled for any reason, then I would lose my nerve to speak altogether - whether or not I felt confident, and whether or not he needed me to repeat myself, I couldn't put the this encounter off forever.

"Are you alright?" he asked, ignorant of my stress and kissing me as I led him to sit with me at the dining room table.

"I'm fine. But I wanted to talk to you."

Resting his head in one hand against the table, he said in a weary voice, "Sure. What's going on?"

Prepared to be straightforward about this with him from the start, I took a deep breath, calling forth as much bravery within myself as I could find in those moments - no small feat, all things considered. But before I could actually begin to speak, a strong wave of nausea overtook me - my newest symptom over the last few days, and one that I was already well beyond fed up with. Jumping up and away from the table so quickly that I almost knocked my chair over, I all but sprinted to the bathroom, and I had just barely made it in time to heave the meager contents of my stomach into the toilet. To my humiliation, Erik followed me - likely without even stopping to think twice about it, clearly concerned by my getting sick out of nowhere, at least as far as he knew. His hands were cool against my flushed skin as he gently swept my hair away from my face, kneeling beside me as he did so - but the momentary relief that I felt from his touch had done absolutely nothing to help the overall situation. I could have cried then and there.

"Sorry," I said miserably after several more moments of sickness, shaking my head and feeling thoroughly pathetic then before I continued, "You should go, I don't want you to see this."

"If you'd prefer that, then I will. But I don't mind staying, either. It's up to you."

Resigned to allow the gesture, I smiled weakly before feeling the nausea rising again, and I immediately turned away and allowed it to run its course. Erik sat beside me all the while, keeping my hair out of the way and rubbing gentle circles on my back, occasionally speaking comforting words to me as he did so; I felt terrible that he had to expend that much effort for my sake when he was so tired, but there was nothing I could do about that now. When the worst of the morning sickness seemed to have passed, I leaned back carefully and asked him to hand me the mouthwash off of the counter.

But I didn't realize my mistake until it was too late. In the next instant, as soon as he turned around to do as I asked, he saw the unopened pregnancy test. Shock filled his eyes then as he quickly pulled the box off the countertop - shock, and then a question that I didn't give him the chance to voice.

"That's why I asked you to come over," I explained softly.

"Have you taken one already? Are you - "

" - I don't know yet," I interrupted, the words coming in an unsteady haste, "I was going to take this one today. But I wanted to talk to you about it first."

He nodded, seemingly attempting to calm himself down as much as I was. Without speaking any further, instead we both stood facing one another again - until, almost abruptly, I took the box from his hands. He'd barely had a grip on it. With a significant look as a means of conveying that I needed him to leave, I quickly ushered him from the bathroom; understanding why I needed him out, he complied easily enough, and once more I was left alone. Everything had unraveled so fast, I needed a moment to collect my thoughts before doing anything else.

Careful to ensure that I'd followed the instructions on the box and had done everything correctly, I finally took the test and brought it back into the dining room with me, setting a timer on my phone as I walked. I found Erik sitting there waiting for me, elbows now resting on the table and his hands clasped tightly under his chin as he stared sightlessly ahead, appearing to be very much lost in thought. Unsurprised by his expression, I sat down next to him again wordlessly, pushing the pregnancy test away from both of us as I settled. For the moment, I couldn't bring myself to look at it while it brought us the results. Still, in spite of trying to ignore that piece of plastic, I absently wondered if the little pink lines that might change my life forever would appear all at once, or if they developed slowly. Rather than solid lines, I envisioned them to be more like an old Polaroid photo, the steady development of an entire image instead of two small shapes coming from nowhere. How strange that something that simple could also be so frightening all the same, so intriguing.

But...I didn't want to think about any of it longer than was absolutely necessary. I just wasn't ready - not yet. And so, with a nearly deafening silence overtaking the small room that we occupied, sitting close together, yet somehow so distant from the other, Erik and I waited.

My phone buzzed - I was startled by the sound before I realized that the timer was up.

Even so, initially I made no real effort to move, opting instead to catch Erik's eyes with mine in a silent plea. And in the next moment, much to my mingled dread and relief, he nodded and reached across the table to pick up the test on my behalf. He looked at it perhaps longer than was necessary, almost stared at it, likely taking that time both to compose himself and to study the test carefully - he did all of this in a matter of seconds, before he finally just closed his eyes tightly. That singular, abruptly made gesture told me all I that needed to know.

The pregnancy test was positive.

And he wasn't happy about this new development. Though, to be perfectly honest, I wasn't surprised by his lack of enthusiasm any more than I had been by any other points of his behavior that morning - God only knew he hadn't expected that our time together would unfold this way. For my part, I didn't know yet exactly how I felt about this - excitement, anticipation, fear, everything flitted through my mind then, only to tangle and ultimately turn indecipherable. For the moment that followed, I only felt numb, lost in a powerful sense of disbelief as I began to regain control over my emotions, to attempt to wrap my mind around a million more questions and possibilities that resulted in the attempt.

Instead, before I could completely consider what I was saying, I said tearfully, "I - I'm...I didn't do this on purpose."

When he finally met my eyes, I saw genuine confusion among the remorse there, "I didn't think you had," he said, then took my hand and looked away as he added, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I shook my head, able to stop crying before I lost too much more control over my emotions. We had to be rational, that was certain, and so I asked, "What should we do?"

"What do you want to do?" he asked hesitantly, "Have you thought about it?"

"I don't...I don't think I can have an abortion. That's all I know for sure. I don't want one."

He said nothing directly to that at all, nor could I determine his exact reaction before he seemed to force control over his features, saying in a tight voice, "You're still in your internship, Christine. Can you imagine how hard it will be to go through that while you're pregnant?"

"I won't be the first woman to get pregnant during her internship. Besides, if anyone will advocate for me, it'll be Dr. Tavade," then I sighed, "We don't have to make any decisions now," I said softly, hoping that my doing so would serve as some kind of reassurance for him.

Yet he only looked at me, his bright eyes still so impossibly regretful. And seeing that, I felt a powerful sense of dread as he stood up and murmured uneasily, "I should go home."

"Erik - "

" - I'll call you tonight. I love you," he said, leaning in quickly, kissing me hard on the mouth - as if offering an apology in that moment, an apology for leaving, for his silence. The significance of the gesture and his choice of words wasn't lost on me then at all - Erik never acted without purpose, and my heart sank with the unspoken gravity of what he'd just done.

But as determinedly as I'd attempted to keep my composure in that instant, in the end my effort was all for nothing. I didn't realize that I was crying until he was already out the door.